August 15, 2008
I am fifteen years old now social services were called when the house caught fire last week. They were making moonshine in the basement and the still exploded. Loren died in the blast. I was taken to an orphanage everyone seems nice enough. A few of the boys are trying to take this from me but I won't let them. This is the last thing from dad that I have the rest burned in the fire.
The lady running the place is named Margaret. She is a little on the cranky side but I like her. She gave me a caramel. It tasted a little funny but I am getting a little sleepy now. Write again soon.
YOU ARE READING
The Last Plane Struck the White House
Non-FictionI chose 9/11 because it is a time that I believe shaped America exponentially. We have a piece of the towers in Kennewick near the carousel of dreams and i feel that if more happened to us on that day things would be very different. We would not jus...
