He drank, shot up, and burnt out. All to forget. He always wanted to forget. The desire had overcome him when alive, attributing to his death, but had consumed him as a reaper.
There were few times in his after life that he was sober for longer than a week. It was just too much. The souls he’d taken may have moved on to their
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I also tune in to forums that have the citizens from the city. I'm trying to get rid of the notion that New Orleanders (?) have a southern accent.
Perhaps its best to have the viewpoint of New Orleans of a person who is there for the first time.
Plus I' working on my last two chapters on "Nomah's Land," I'm so close to finish yet not and it drives me crazy.
Don't be discourage by the any unkind reviews. From what I have read, many enjoy your work. and they should; It's a great story.
I don't think too many people have read my fic, because I have about an estimated 6 reviews (that's 3 from ff.net and dml fan), it bothers a bit but I try not to let it get to me. The reason why I wrote it it's because I wanted to.
I always found that if I just write even the most nonsensical things, just write whatever comes out my head or even record it, it gets the ideas and later, the story formed.
Good Luck!
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