Wednesday, November 17, 2010

How To Hack Credits For Poptropica

Why

You know what is fear? It has many faces, many ways of surviving individuals, the lives, minds, spirits. Can be found on the face of children, the elderly, women, men. And you will always produce the same feeling of uneasiness. It seems that the blood stops flowing through your veins for a few moments that are eternal. You breathless. The heart refuses to work, it shrinks on itself and huddles in a corner in your lungs. Blood falls from your cheek with your hands, your feet and not get back to where it should be.

You stop thinking, looking, to understand. Just feel the instinct to survive, or your sixth sense or whatever you call rays. In all cases, we say the same thing: running. Run and do not stop running.

Your pupils dilate, and suddenly, and without understanding exactly how, see with clarity that you are lost. Then, try to deny it. You try to look around and look for a sign, a suggestion, a helping hand outstretched to you, a warm smile or a reassuring look. But nothing. These alone. All alone. In the darkness of your fear that envelops you like a black anaconda, and you can see in his eyes iridescent lethal death.

Want everything to be a nightmare, a bad dream, a bad blow which fortune gives, with its strange and sinister black humor.

But, as much as you want, you go on, dead panic. And finally, your mind reacts and your legs too. You put up all your muscles. Manage to convince your heart to make an effort ... and another ... and a last effort ... Flee and leave, and never know why. You just know that if you do, if you fear that grabs you, will be the end.

But it is no use running. No apparent reason, it seems that your legs are stiff, they do not move as expected. Time passes like a faucet Goeta in the solitude of a mansion. Plot ... Plot ... Plot ... And your footsteps sound so deliberate ... so far ... Everything around you is like a strange picture, erased by the passage of time, gritesco as the portrait of Van Gogh and The Disasters of War which exposed their most distressing Goya fears.

Time stops. And your legs fail to respond. I sunk to the ground ... Your fear surrounds you with its tentacles ...

and die.


To wake up again, drenched in sweat and screaming, in your warm bed after a horrible nightmare ... or not.

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