Graphic+drafting

=**Demonica and nickelbackrocks Draft page.**=

" Do it! Do it!" chanted petit Casey. Her blonde and brown hair bounced up and down.

Erik grunted. The yellow balloon stared Erik right in the eyes, daring him.

"Chicken! Cluck,-Erik is chicken-cluck!" Justin said, hands on hips and doing the most hilarous chicken dance, his head moving back and forth whilst his feet juttered around.

Erik sighed. His hair seemed to be debating against him and covering his eyes, not letting Erik see.

A deep voice hummed, ' oh of course', making Justin and Casey giggle.

A squeling clench freed the finally grabbed balloon. Thwip. Splash!

"Erik!!!" bellowed Eriks Dad, ' I just got this suit laundered, Dad thought. Justin and Casey began to run.

The smell of smoking wood cascaded around the stone room. A bubbling pot of tea rumbled on top of the orange and yellow beast below. The sound of birds tewwting and chirping secret songs up in the giant nest protecting Charles Crogan's house. The rough stone wall radiated heat from the fiery burning beast. You could see a never-ending amount of doors from the one living room door. The sweet taste of honey tea lingered on every single taste-bud on Charles Crogan tongue. An Oak stool stood lonely, the only thing carrying wieght on it's back. The hard flower pattern chair was like an 100 year old boulder.

The Story

“Do it! Do it!" chanted a petit Casey. Her blonde and brown hair bounced up and down. Eric grunted. The neon-yellow balloon stared Eric right in the eyes, daring him. "Chicken! Cluck,-Eric is a chicken-cluck!" Justin said, hands on hips and doing the most hilarious chicken dance, his head moving back and forth whilst his feet jittered around. Erik sighed. His hair seemed to be debating against him and covering his eyes, not letting Erik see. A deep voice hummed ‘oh of course' making Justin and Casey giggle. A squealing clench freed the finally grabbed balloon. Thwip. Splash! "Eric!!!" bellowed Eric’s Dad, 'I just got this suit laundered, Dad thought. Justin and Casey began to run

“Big-Bug! Help, there’s another bender down at the old Jack!” cried a little girl tears welling up in her small, round blue eyes. “Sandra, what will you’re mother say if I told her you were out this late! Anyway I’ll talk about that later, get into you’re bed and snuggle up while I deal with him.” Replied Ben Crogan, a burly old man, a western hat perched upon his thinning white, wirey hair. A white moustache a curved caterpillar, against his tanned, but rough as a rock skin. Pure westerner’s skin. “ Fine, You may be chief and Ace-high but I don’t care” called Sandra, stomping to a small run-down wooden house. “Good!” shouted Ben walking towards the Old Jack. Two men stood, chests puffed out, one holding a broken glass bottle in one hand and a stick of fire in another. “I know you! You-you put somthin’ in there!” cried the man holding the broken bottle. “Shut-up! I just met you and you’re accusing me? Are you mad- you must wan’na die!” screamed the other man, a black haired youth, probably around 25. “Shut you’re Bazoo’s! “Shouted Ben, his yellow spittle flying in all directions. All eye’s landed on the local Sheriff- and Chief of Cresa. Ben put his hand to his waist and pulled out some rope. “Oi! You, the one with the black hair come here” the black-haired youth followed Ben’s orders, looking down at the floor like a punished child. “ Everyone get out of here and go to you’re homes, I will deal with this bender!” a chorus of sighs and mumbles could be heard as everyone in the old run-down pub listened to the old man’s orders- apart from the bender who was now being sick- head outside a window groaning. Ben walked across the dull brown floor-boards listening intently as they also groaned- but not from drinking, from Ben’s weight. “Goy-ey a-hhhhhhh!” charged the Bender, lifting his almost-limp arm shaking the broken glass bottle. Sheriff Ben pointed his right-index finger at the black haired youth (who luckily wasn’t drunk on rum and whiskey), and bent his right-index finger showing he wanted the black haired youth to come towards the old man. “Thank you big bug- I know I shouldn’t have done that but you knows I can’t help it. Please, please don’t send me to the calaboose!” the youth got down on his knee’s and bowed his head showing Sheriff Ben he was truly sorry. “ Dang-nabbit- you better get me a dozen bear signs, three Arbuckle’s and you better shut you BAZOO!” muttered Sheriff Ben his voice raising with every word he said until he shouted ‘bazoo’.