Jack and Jill went up the hill. The hill was in New England in a creepy little town. Jack was new in town and Jill was down on her luck. He had found an old letter in a book his grandfather had owned.
*New England accent* Hey thea. My name is Jack Mengigo, I'ma tryin' to get to tha top of that theair hill.
*New England accent* You can't get theair from here.
To fetch a pale of water. New England water. The water rippled with each step they took, waves collapsed in on themselves. The old bucket squeeked as it rocked forward and backward in her sweaty palm.
This letta from my grandfatha says we'are almost theair.
Yah, that would seem to be tha case.
Jack fell down and broke his back. the pain was unbearable. Sweat rolled down his head and into his eye sockets as his breathing gradually slowed and stopped. Her image faded as his pupil shrank.
