Alex Norton

T

• about the author
• Module One
• Module Two
• Module Three
• Poetry
• picture book

A

About the Author

I am a poet. I love to write stories, whether they're both short and long. I am a firm believer that anything can become a story, writing poetry or stories or any other form of creative writing.
"It's not the book that tells the story but the hidden meaning woven in the thread."phone number: 0471100911
Email: [email protected]

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time... I used to be 10 O'clock at night. I saw things. I illegally immigrated inside Intokistan. They attempted to turn my arms to midnight. They begged for the gift of eating. But i didn't give in. In desperation, they broke my body. I was but a face, ticking away. I was stomped on. I felt like a helpless ant in a giant's world. My paladium face so small and strong kept my face ticking away, loud enough to drive a man insane.

This Once Upon A Time tells a story about resilience and that no matter the circumstances you yourself have the power to overcome the exigent circumstances

Night-Mare(Three-page Taster)

Jeremy was once a regular teenage boy. He loved to game and fantasizing about enemy combatants. He hid in his room all day and making himself appear good to get girls. He’s 5”2, has red hair and has a baby face, his bluey grayish eyes dance against his ghost white skin.
* * *
One night whilst gaming Jeremy hears banging on the front door, he gets up to investigate the sound thinking it must be one if the many pets making crashing noises in the middle of the night. As he is getting closer to the door, he hears a crash that sounds like wood hitting tiles, and he knew, the door had been broken down.
He bolted to hide under his bed, there was gunfire and screaming. Yet he stayed still, fear clenching against his chest. A few hours had past; Jeremy had slept. Slowly, he creeps out from under his bed but there is one of the invaders in his bedroom. Jeremy is captured, his already pale face goes 50 shades paler. The assassins tied him up on an old sturdy wooden chair. The intruders reveal that they’re a rogue party of the KKK and that they’re cannibals that love feasting on human flesh. But they also like to kidnap their victims and torture them because they used to be assassins.
They give Jeremy an option. They can impregnate an American star named Stephanie who was kidnapped 2 weeks prior, or he can get cooked into a human stroganoff. Stephanie was once a singer/ songwriter who had blonde hair and weirdly long nails.
Jeremy chose to go against his morales and impregnate Stephanie because he didn’t want to die and was plotting an escape. They picked a room in the house and the assassins, now happy because their plan is in motion secured the room making sure neither person could escape no matter how hard they tried. Whilst Jeremy and Stephanie attempt to do as they have been forced to do the assassins think it to be a good idea to start cooking the now dead family members into a stroganoff.
Jeremy and Stephanie tried and tried but couldn’t succeed. One of the assassins walked In and learnt of the news. That assassin went to go share it with the other assassins. The assassins deliberated, they thought it best to keep those two alive for the benefits of themselves and their plan. Eventually they opted to force them to eat some of the human stroganoff they had been making. Jeremy and Stephanie hesitate but they thought it best to submit for the time being for their plan to hatch into motion. They begin eating the human stroganoff, gagging trying to withhold the urge to vomit after every mouthful. The assassins follow up by saying that if Jeremy and Stephanie both eat their portions that they were given Jeremy would be allowed to leave for school. A lot of struggling later, he manages to finish the meal, but Stephanie is having a difficult time finishing the last third of her meal. Jeremy makes the bold decision to take one for the team and finish the last third of Stephanie’s bowl. 30 minutes and a lot of gagging later he has finished the bowl. However, there are still two hours before the school opens. To the surprise of Stephanie and Jeremy they are allowed to do whatever they like for two hours, but they can’t have any type of technology and anything else that can be used as a form of communication without them being wiped clean and those apps blocked by the assassins IT guy. Jeremy and Stephanie decide to spend that time gaming on the little games left that they could play, finding ways to have fun. Those two hours felt like they would never pass for Jeremy and Stephanie, they both wanted to have Jeremy leave for school.
* * *
The time for Jeremy to leave comes around, Jeremy and Stephanie couldn’t be happier, but little did they know there was a twist. The assassins strap a bomb to Jeremy’s chest with a dead man’s switch activated. He is tasked to travel to school otherwise they will remotely detonate it. Jeremy then gets told it has GPS so he can’t try and be sneaky either, he isn’t allowed to call emergency services otherwise he will go boom.

Pitch:
Come join Jeremy on his journey to greatness as he faces off against the KKK and a band of assassins. Will he survive, Keep reading to find out.

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An Australian Soldier’s Life - Monologue

“I signed up for war thinking it would be a wonderful experience. I would be serving my nation whilst travelling the world. I was shipped off without knowing where we were going. After spending eight months at sea with little time on land, we were finally told that in two days, we would storm the beaches of a little-known place called Gallipoli. The goal was to cut off the supply line to the nearby city. We rushed the beaches at 8am, in the 3rd wave. The sight was not what any of us had expected. I remember seeing Robert Sweeney with his head split in half, screaming in pain. The screams and the cries for help, unforgettable. Yet I moved on. My platoon officer told us to ignore those who were down. We picked up lost soldiers from the 2 waves before us along our way as we climbed the steep, slippery hills of Gallipoli. They had stories to tell. I remember one from the first wave telling me how they saw nothing but were being mowed down by machine guns before even reaching land. As I sit here writing this, I fear this will be my last writing. We are under orders to conserve ammo, ready for a push through a part of land called The Nek. I am to go in the fourth wave, the first wave has already gone. Most of them didn’t even make it ten feet from the trenches. My teeth chatter, my legs shake, and I am covered in cold sweat. I want to go home and have a homemade meal again. Anything will be better than these hard biscuits. If they can even be called biscuits still. But I fear that I won’t make it through the day. The officer has called my wave up to the front trench, ready to rush the enemy. The bullets are whizzing past my head, sometimes people forget to duck and get shot in the head. I always thought that might be me one day, but I do not think I will have to worry about that anymore.”

Context statementI chose to do this because war has always interested me. I had also never seen a monologue before the day I started my first draft. So, after looking at some examples, I decided to make it about a soldier who thought he would serve his nation whilst on vacation and later die in one of the biggest battles in WW1. I knew I could accurately state activities using my knowledge of the battle. I used that for the monologue because it made it easier for me to write a monologue.

A Turkish Soldiers Story - Monologue

“The Germans came, they grabbed me, took me away from my home. That was that. I had been conscripted. I am now a soldier in the Turkish army. They gave me basic training, gun fire, and a few other things. After 4 days, I was trucked out to Gallipoli. We had heard stories. My friend Asim was conscripted only a few days before me, We received news 7 days later that he had died in a frontal assault by the enemy at a place called Lone Pine. Too many have died at the hands of the Johnnies. We Mehmet’s weren’t as fierce as our Johnnie counterparts, but we stood firm. We held our ground. I was a sniper. I watched as Johnnies walked close by. I would hold my breath, hoping that they wouldn’t sense my presence and kill me. Johnnies are good at killing snipers, so much so that no Mehmet wants anything to do with a sniper rifle. I took the role out of fear of the Officers. The officers are German. They are under direct orders of Wilhelm Kaiser II to kill anyone who retreats or refuses to charge towards the Johnnies. A lot of us don’t like the idea of warfare. I met this soldier named Cecil, who is a teacher; he’s short in stature but makes up for it with bravery. Once I witnessed him climbing over the trench to trade a tin of figs with a Johnnie named Bill. In exchange, Bill gave a box of rock-hard biscuits.
They were good, but they would break our teeth. A few days later, Cecil was shot dead. I saw it through my very scope. He refused to charge forward after being shot in the leg. An Officer came up to him and shot him between his eyes. At least as a sniper, it's just me up on one of the many hills along the Gallipoli coastline. Frequently moving not to be spotted. The johnnies have been taking people off the beaches in groups over the past few weeks. I feel we could retake our beach, but the officers aren’t so sure. They don’t want to risk the soldiers just in case it’s a bluff by the Johnnies. Morning has come, and not a peep has been heard for the past eleven hours. Soldiers are starting to wander the battlefields. Not a Johnnie in sight. So, I come out of my sniper position and head down to report the situation. I am currently under orders to clean the battlefield and await new orders. My body tenses with the thought that we might become part of the main German force and fight on one of the major fronts.”

My Big Adventure On The Gordon River

I was so excited! I went for a day-long boat ride on the Gordon River in Tasmania. I had never seen a river so amazing. It was big, twisty and finally, it looked like people were having a fun time. Let alone a ship with such grandeur. It was huge. Each side of the ship had massive viewing decks. The ship’s crew was friendly, they showed us all the cool features along the way whilst telling us numerous facts about the history of where we were.
We passed luscious mountains covered in moss-riddled trees. The trees were so tall they could’ve touched the sky, they said they were Huon Pine. I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but I didn’t care. I was in awe at the height of those things. The river was calm, my Mum said, “The river is murky, so we may not see any fish”. So I stayed there for many minutes until I spotted a fish. I shouted in glee, “Mum, I found a fish!” I had my arm out pointing towards where it was. I felt full of pride as if what I had just done deserved an Olympic medal.
Then we visited an island with old, dilapidated brick buildings. The guide explained to us about the people who lived there long ago. They were called convicts. They had to do hard Labor. I felt a little sad for them, but it was also interesting to see the old buildings. By the end of the trip, I felt like I was on top of the moon. I was so excited to go back to school and tell my friends and teachers about this adventure of mine. My Pop is the best, he gives us cool things and allows us to make these trips worth remembering.6 years later. I was laying in bed when I heard the news. My Pop. My favourite family member, he was in the hospital. He had had a fall after suffering from an aneurysm exploding in his brain. I was informed that we would be going up to the hospital the next day to go see him. Little did I know that it was the last time I would see him. When I arrived, I saw his physical state. He was staying strong for us as we were children, but I could see that he was struggling. At 9:34AM I gave him the last hug I would ever give him. I went to school and behaved as if nothing had happened. At that stage I didn’t know that it would be the last time I would feel his warm embrace. I joined in with the grade practicing our end of year assembly performance. We had been trying all term to perfect it so we could go out with bang.
At 7:10PM that night My Mum informed me that my popped had passed away suddenly with 3 of my uncles in the room. He died by drowning in his own blood. I didn’t cry, but inside I was in turmoil, he meant the world to me. Every time he visited us, or we visited him was a time I would cherish and still cherish to this present day. I went to school the next day with conflicted emotions. Grade 6 leavers assembly and dinner were next week, and I had just lost my favourite person. I informed my teachers of my situation, and they were nice enough to let me be and do my own thing for the rest of the year. I still participated in class activities to keep me entertained and my spirits up. When I got home Mum broke the news that the funeral was to start at 10AM on Wednesday 17th of December. The day of my leavers.
5 days later, I go to bed early and have my alarm set for 5:30AM. The next day arrives, I get up feeling groggy but ready to start the long journey down to Strahan where the funeral would be held. I got dressed into the clothes I would use for my grade 6 leavers dinner. And waited on my Nan to arrive so we could make the Journey down to Strahan. We left at 7AM. We arrived in Strahan at 8:30AM so we went to the pre-funeral gathering where my pop lived. I was feeling sad but I didn’t show it, I chose to stay strong for as long as I can. Because I knew when I broke down my mum and older sister would break down too and I couldn’t bare seeing them crying either. I held my own up until the funeral. When we entered, I could see his casket. That’s when it got hard to hold back the tears and emotions that I had been bottling up for the last week. I managed to hold it back until the procession started. It was the first time they mentioned his name. I started crying, I could see my mum was too so I kept my sadness as quiet as possible. Eventually she noticed and handed me a pack of tissues that she had packed. I went through those in a matter of seconds. Servicemen and women as well as council members were all there to farewell him. A way to honour the many great things he had done for the community on the west coast. Attracting tourism and making going down the west coast a time worth remembering.
As the procession finished up we started the short journey to the cemetery where he would be forever laid to rest next his already deceased family members. The white rose I laid on his casket is the last thing I remember of the funeral. I was bawling my eyes out, it wasn’t quiet, it wasn’t respectable, but everyone understood, it’s a funeral, nobody there left without shedding tears. The person that cried the most was my aunt. We went to the gathering after the funeral where we ate pastries provided by Banjo’s as their tribute to the fallen man.
We left the gathering at 3PM so I could make my leavers dinner. We arrived with 6 minutes before the leavers dinner started. One of my teachers speeches sounded so much like the poem my Mum read out at the funeral. I nearly cried but I didn’t want to bring sadness into a happy event. It wasn’t easy but I made it happen. The surge of clashing emotions, fighting all night. At 9PM when I went home, I was so emotionally exhausted I cried myself to sleep. The next day I decided to start writing and put my emotions on paper. A way to express my emotions. It didn’t matter what format the words were in, whether it be a poem, a short story or a longer story.

Racing Rebels Heartbeat - Podcast

Mark: Welcome to Racing’s Rebel Heartbeat, where we dive into the world of motorsport and put a poetic twist on it. I’m your host and were excited to share our views on motorsport, our guest this week is 3x F4GB champion Jeff Owens.Jeff:
Thanks for having me, I’m a huge fan of motorsport. I love how technology, skill and adrenaline combine making a wonderful sport.
Jeff
Aside:
For those who don’t know much about motorsport. Without technology the drivers won’t have their skill and without the skill of the drivers we won’t have the technological developments.Mark: I absolutely agree. Motorsport is a world where humans and machines come together as one. Let’s start with the rush of adrenaline that comes with racing. Could you put that into words?Jeff: Instead of words, I have a little poem to encapsulate that sense of adrenaline.“Engines roar, heart beats fast,
adrenalines rush? Thrill that forever lasts.
The green flag drops and off we go,
The thrill of speed, where sparks glow free.”applauseMark: Wow! I guess that gives them the buzz they need. But without the drivers we would have none of this, the thrill of racing, the language used mid race, whether its swearing, banter or words of wisdom. What do you think makes for a good driver?Jeff: For me it’s all about the cornering. A good driver needs to have a sound understanding of the parameters and physics of the car to be able to maximize track space but minimize lap times. Here’s a little poem that might help you picture this.“Each turn, a twist of fate,
Where skill meets weight’s imperfections,
The apex, a target to be reached,
A delicate balance to be refined.”applauseMark: I’m speechless, the art of cornering is indeed the most important part of racing. And when it all comes down to tyres you need a partner that can balance both speed and stability whilst giving the driver the grip to go faster. And that’s where Dunlop comes in.
Dunlop, the tyre of choice for many who demand precision and control, with their advanced technology and commitment to research and development, Dunlop tyres are designed to deliver exceptional performance on and off the track.Jeff: Absolutely, Dunlop focuses on catering to what the drivers want. What the drivers get out of the tyre through communication just goes to show that Dunlop is the best of the best.Mark: After your tyres are gone and you’re waiting for the flag to be waved you feel like it takes an eternity, when the flag waves how does it feel?Jeff: Ah the checkered flag, either the best or worst flag out there. For me it’s a feeling of pure triumph. Here is yet another little poem to describe the feeling of seeing the flag.“The checkered flag waves high,
A symbol of triumph, a moment to sigh,
The rush of emotions, a kaleidoscope of joy or sorrow,
A moments triumph, where dreams are won | or lost.”applauseMark: It’s clear to see that motorsport isn’t just about the speed and skill, it’s about the emotions, the perspective and the human spirit. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us today and don’t forget to check out Dunlop’s newest range of high-performance tyres, they are fast, | and they last.Sadly, this is where this show has to come to an end. Thank you for coming on down and sharing your perspective on motorsport with us.Jeff: Thank you for having me it’s been a pleasure to share my opinions on some of the many aspects of motorsport.Mark: And to our listeners, thanks for tuning into Racing’s Rebel Heartbeat. Join us next time as we go in depth about what it’s like to be engineering a car in the world of motorsport. Until then, keep the engines revving and the heart’s pumping.

Tune into Racing’s Rebel Heartbeat. Join us as we go in depth about what it takes driving a race car in the world of motorsport. Lets get these hearts pumping and your imagination churning.

Braided Essay on Bathurst 1000

It’s the last lap of the 2014 Bathurst 1000, Jamie Whincup and Chaz Mostert battle it out for the win. Jamie Whincup is running on fumes. The car is coughing, holding on by a thread. Being driven around with the utmost care. The bumper is struck continuously, Chaz Mostert eager to get through for his first win at the mountain. It’s expert defending done by Jamie Whincup but it’s not enough, Elizabeth runs out of fuel and Jamie is left frustrated. He drops from first to sixth in the span of 800m. The saddest end to the biggest event in motorsport for the year.
Bathurst opened for racing 65 years ago, and it’s been known for many things. Chaz Mostert’s bone-breaking crash in 2015, Jamie Whincup running out of fuel in 2014, the lap of the gods driven by Greg Murphy in 2003 or Scott McLaughlin in 2017. Peter Brock’s dominance has been forever cherished and remembered since his time driving, even having the trophy named after him.
The trophy, passed through the hands of those who won, each year coming back to find a new home for 365 days. Hoping that it can stay in one place for multiple years at a time. The walk down the red carpet with those who housed me, cleaned me and cherished me for the last year. They hope to win me back. But it rarely every happens. I’m 18 years old and love the care that everyone gives me even if it's only brief.
Through the years, the cars have evolved. We have had a battle through the years, Ford Vs Holden, from Group A featuring Ford Escorts and Mini Coopers. From VK Commodores to the VL Commodore and Ford Falcon. Since the V8 era began in 92’ we have had not just Falcon vs Commodore. Brock vs Moffat, Skaife vs Murphy, McLaughlin vs Van Gisbergan. There have been many different battles through the years. Both driver and machine.
Bathurst has hosted hundreds of race weekends, resulting in even more crashes through the ranks of sport. Chaz Mostert crashed in qualifying at Bathurst on the run down the mountain on the run to Forest Elbow. He clipped a wall in the Esses and ping ponged down the mountain, nearly taking out Officials doing the job in the process. Fabian Coulthard lost control of his car entering the Chase, travelling 300 km/h because the back end kicked out. His car flipped multiple times but got out unscathed courtesy of the safety features embedded in every car.
Everything was a blur. It’s all muscle memory. McPhillamy is flat. All drivers run that out to the dirt before they cut back across to the left to take Skyline Flat. As he goes through the skyline, he’s flicking left a bit and stomping on the brakes for the dipper. Fast left, right, with a steep decline, but it feels like you're going at a snail's pace. It all slows down. It feels like you're doing the finest artwork you will ever do in your life. The dancing on the brakes, hitting the clutch, feathering the throttle. ‘Chaz Mostert flies down the mountain. He’s the fastest in the first sector, the micro sectors are looking good, as he heads down the mountain, sublime driving by Chaz Mostert. He exits the dipper, stomps on the throttle. It's a short run to the esses before the elbow. BANG!!Through the years, many have traversed the mountain. But none more successful than Peter Brock. An astonishing nine wins. It was a home away from home for him. His cars are in the National Museum of Motorsport. Peter Brock is idolized by many. His dominance has never been matched. As records fall his stands strong. He holds the largest winning margin in history at 6 whole laps, having set the fastest lap on the last lap too. He is remembered as a legend. His stories are told all through Australia, and even if someone isn’t a racing fan, they’ve probably heard of the name Peter Brock.
As the cars sit on the grid, Peter Brock revs his engine, the engine comes to life. As the other 22 cars also come to life, time begins to slow, as the marshal holds the green flag, suspense grows, foot ready to floor it. The flag waves. Steadily on the throttle Peter Brock goes. Steadily shifting up the gears. All 23 cars go barrelling into Hell corner. Peter Brock makes diving effort on Alan Moffat. Wheels touch, rubber shredding. The clank of metal as the mirrors touch and break. Through goes Peter Brock into the lead of the race.
V8 Supercars, formerly known as ATCC (Australian Touring Car Championship) has raced at Mt Panorama (Bathurst) since it opened in 1960. It has defined Australian motorsport since. It has created legends, stories that are told to children and will be told to their children. It may have changed through the years, but the love for it hasn’t.

This braided essay intertwines history with a story of greatness. It shares iconic dramatic moments whilst sharing factual information.

An Author's Online Presence - Report

Instagram
An online presence can vary person to person and genre to genre, but what has to be factored in is what the targeted age is. Is it an Author, singer/ songwriter or a business etc?
Some people take a more direct approach, having a prepared script that would be read off to gain a fan base or a customer base. Perhaps it's done on a much more personal level. Some Authors will sit down and talk about their pieces of writing, whether it’s old or new. They’ll go into depth about the characters, the plot or even talk about the process of writing. Perhaps even unveiling hidden mysteries within their writing. These are a few strategies that work for people who are prepared and already have a following on social media and in person that would allow support to be garnered, so what about an up-and-coming author? Up-and-coming authors may not have a following, they might just have a good piece of writing. Up and coming writers typically have a new approach on a piece of writing. It could be a twist to a genre of writing or even a new approach on writing entirely. Accomplished writers are posting weekly or even daily talking about collabs or their newest writing pieces being released hyping it up. But it could easily end up being no different to a prior piece of writing. An up-and-coming writer will post their piece of writing, maybe put a caption on it with some tags hoping to reach people throughout the world and start getting noticed for their writing. Maybe even targeting companies to get noticed for potential collaborations. These collaborations could entail a short story or poem as a way of advertising for a business no matter how large or small and in return you get to get your name on a post by an established business with a customer base.
Having social media these days isn’t just about having an online presence it’s about keeping up with the news, talking to people you don’t know. But in doing that you will make yourself known. An online presence isn’t just people seeing your account and following it. Its old fashioned, word of mouth. It could start with one person and end up with 80 people fast because word of mouth multiplies. Those people then can see what you do and if they like it, they will follow the account. That’s the only thing established writers, and up-and-coming writers have in common.Alfie Castley’s Instagram portfolio showcases his latest written and released song. It features his daily posts where he shares snippets of his new songs for followers to listen to. These posts include things like Alfie in his studio singing and his girlfriend’s reaction to him singing the song. The different backgrounds for the same song all somehow work and its in a way that it garners attention up til the actual launch date of the song in which he will ramp up his advertising and posts with the song to gain listeners. However, all of this advertising can be toned down and have more thought put into the posts as for each song it’s the same stuff over and over again. It is nice to be able to go and change it occasionally, so everybody isn’t listening and seeing the same stuff repeatedly. Some food for thought could be to consider a new location, such as singing on a hot air balloon or something exotic, which would be entertaining to the viewers. It would be a great way for advertising to be done and considering he lives in London where those experiences are very common making it easily doable. Another thing that is doable is considering he has a Spotify account he could link the account so people know where to find his Spotify rather than in his bio just saying “The Pivotal epm out now” (Castley) The consistency of the posts is really good because it means he gets a constant stream of visitors to his posts.

Media Text

Kokoda

On Isurava's heights, Kokoda's track extends so high,
A group of Diggers bravely fought to keep their life.
Private Jack Mundine led them all, their mood rather jolly,
They met the foe's attack, casting out dread.Across clouded summits and muddy, bloody soil.
They fought along for each inch, honour unbound.
other nations crumbled, and complete ruin felt near,
The Diggers stood up rather firm, with their spirit completely unbroken and clear.At Isurava's solemn monument, each specific name carved into granite,
Their overall bravery, along with sacrifice, will be known.
The diggers of Kokoda, their lasting story shall remain.
A declaration to valour. It happened during the wartime's intense start at once.

This poem represents the sacrifice made by Australians on the Kokoda track. They sacrificed more than they were required, they willingly sacrificed their life for their nation.

Brown Eyes

I'm a pretty good judge if character, or so I've found,
Can spot a fake from a male away, with intuition all around.
But when i meet someone genuine, someone real,
I let my guard down, and let them see how I feel.I've been burned before, and i've got the scars to show,
But I won't let that stop me from loving, from letting poeple in, and going with the flow.
I'll take the risk, I'll roll the dice, I'll put my heart on the line,
'Cause when it comes to love and connection,
I'd rather feel it all, and make it mine.I'll let you in slowly, bit by bit,
If you share me your worthy, if ypu show me you care, and you don't hit.
I'll share my thoughts, my feelings, my deepest fears,
If you do the same, and calm my doubts, and wipe away my tears.I'll trust you with my secrets, with my past,
If you promise to hold me, and love me so fast.
I'll be myself, without the mask,
If you promise to love me, and let me be, no matter the task.With these brown eyes, i see the world anew,
A reflection of my soul, a window to my truth.
They've seen the depths of me, the highs, and the low,
And if you look closely, you'll see my heart glow.

A Cars Life - picture book (without pictures)

Page 1:
Meet Gaughn, a handsome race car. He loves to go Vroom Vroom.
Page 2:
He loves hooning around with his friends late at night.
Page 3:
One night, he stumbles upon a gorgeous car named Antrayer.
Page 4:
He gathers up all his confidence. He drives up to Antrayer and asks,
"Will you be the melody to my rhyme?"
Page 5:
"NO" stay away from me.
Page 6:
"can i at least get to know you?" Gaughn asks.
"Sure, after all you are a sweet talker." Antrayer says.
Page 7:
They exchange contact information and get to know each other. They soon become close friends.
Page 8:
They played all day and all night long.
Page 9:
Sometimes on the beach and sometimes in the garage.
Page 10:
6 months later...
Page 11:
Little car is born.
Page 12:
Little car learns how to drive. He is a Vintage Proto-H.
Page 13:
One day Gaughn suggests a holiday as a family getaway for all of them.
Page 14:
One week later, they drive out to the countryside where they plan to spend the week.
Page 15:
They get a two-room garage to sleep in.
Page 16:
The next day they decide to go driving by the cliffside.
Page 17:
Little car is still learning how to drive when he accidentally turns off his stability control.
Page 18:
Little car slid off the road. He hit many things on the way down.
Page 19:
Little car is clinging onto the cliff face.
Page 20:
Gaughn and Antrayer look down at LIttle car helplessly. As he washes his windshield away he says...
Page 21:
"I will shine with a light that will cut through life." says Little car.
Page 22:
PfoofTo Be Continued

Join Gaughn and Antrayer on their short romance life. How do they get on with life afterwards. read to find out.