I Found A Special Boy In Miami

I have always been a lucky girl. I have been in 5 near death experiences and I have a sixth sense that has helped me avoid several more dangerous situations. I have made countless wrong turns in life, but always end up on the right path. I was in Miami once. Lived in a really nice home, went to a pretty good school and loved the warm weather. My parents wanted to move to Miami so we could be close to my grandpa. He was a good man. I loved him. He was 89 years old and lived alone. My parents would say that he was lonely, but that was okay. I would visit him a lot. He was a great person and I loved him. I loved him even more when he showed me a Special Boy. Mr. Huntington lived down the road from my grandpa. I had never really met him, but my grandpa had told me that he was a bad man. Once, when I was 16, I got really curious. My grandpa was out grocery shopping, and I decided to go for a walk down the street. I walked down the road a little further than I ever had before, and came across a really big house. It was probably the biggest house I had ever seen. I was standing near the mailbox, when I saw a tall man with gray hair and a scruffy face come towards me. He looked very mad, and I realized I was on his property. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I said, and turned to run away. I ran as fast as I could, and once I got inside the house, I locked the door and tried to calm myself down. My grandpa got home and I told him what happened. He said to never to go near that house again and to never talk to the man in the yard. One day, my grandpa called me into his office. He was a wealthy man, so his office was a big room. It had lots of books and papers. I had never been in that room before. My grandpa called me in and I answered. “Don’t worry if you hear any weird noises from the house next door. The man who lives there has a son. His name is Boy, and he is very special. He is a little strange, but he is a good guy,” he said. I smiled and said that I would be careful. I thought about the man from a few days ago. I figured he was Mr. Huntington. One dark and stormy night, my grandpa went out to get some groceries. It was 8:00 pm and I was home alone. I was 17 and I was allowed to be home by myself, so I said it was okay. The storm got really bad, thunder and lightning everywhere. The lights went out. I lit some candles and flashlights and looked around the house. It was dark, but I could see that nothing was out of place. I went outside to go to the generator out back. It was very windy and the rain was very cold. I went to the generator and turned it on, and just as I turned around, I felt something grab me from behind. Someone had put their hand over my mouth. I started kicking my legs as hard as I could, and I heard a groan. I turned around to see Mr. Huntington on the ground, holding his balls. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” I said. He looked at me and scowled. “What are you doing out here?” He asked. “I was turning on the generator. The lights went out,” I replied. “I don’t need your help. You shouldn’t be out here.” “I don’t need your help, either. You shouldn’t be out here,” I said. He groaned in pain and got up, and walked towards the front door. I followed him, and he went inside. He walked right through the living room and into the kitchen. My grandpa kept a baseball bat under the sink. I grabbed it and aimed it at him. “What are you doing?” He asked. “I’m going to protect my house,” I said. He started walking towards me, so I swung the bat at him. I missed and it hit the wall, but the sound made him jump. He turned around and ran out the door. I called my grandpa and told him what happened. He said to call the cops and that he was on his way. The next day, my grandpa didn’t go out very much. He stayed inside and watched me like a hawk. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but my grandpa was very careful. At night, he went to bed in his room. I locked the door and checked the locks on all the windows. Once I was satisfied, I went to bed. I woke up at 5:00 am to the sound of my grandpa screaming. I jumped out of bed and ran to his room. He was on the floor, covered in blood. I called 911 and they said they were on their way. I stayed with my grandpa and talked to him until he stopped breathing. When the cops came, they said my grandpa was dead. He had been stabbed in several places. I was very sad. The police asked me if I saw anyone unusual. I told them about Mr. Huntington and his son Boy. The cops said they knew of Mr. Huntington, and that he was a bad man. The cops found him and brought him in. He had a big cut in his face, and he looked very mad. The cops asked me if I knew anything about the cut, and I said no. Mr. Huntington glared at me, and I knew he was mad. The police asked him about the murder, and he just laughed. I realized that he had done it. He had killed my grandpa. The police put him in a cell and kept him there without bail. The next day, a cop called me and told me to come to the station. When I got there, the cop told me that Mr. Huntington wasn’t acting right. He said he had been saying the same phrase for hours. I asked what it was, and the cop said, “Not my boy.” I went to the cell and looked inside. I saw Mr. Huntington lying on the floor, crying. I went inside and walked up to him. I asked him what he was doing. He looked up and I saw that he was holding something. I realized it was a head. It was decaying and smelt very bad. I looked at the face and realized it was Boy. “You killed your own son,” I said. He nodded. “Yes. He was a bad boy. He hurt a lot of people.” I realized that I had been wrong. Boy was a bad guy. “I’m sorry,” I said. “No. I’m sorry. My boy was a bad boy,” he said. I left the cell and told the cops what happened. They took him to the hospital, and I realized I had to get out of Miami. I moved to a different town, and my life got a lot better. I still don’t know what really happened to Boy, but I’m sorry that he was a bad boy.

I Found A Special Boy In Miami

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