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<title>The Hidden Tomb / Invaders of the hidden tomb</title>
<link>http://www.blogigo.com/TheHiddenTomb</link>
<description></description>
<language>en</language>
<dc:creator>Dr_Wilmer</dc:creator>
<dc:publisher>Dr_Wilmer</dc:publisher>
<pubDate>Fri, 27 Jul 2007 20:09:37 +0200</pubDate>
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<title>cont.</title>
<description> 
 “I can’t see anything,” said Tom impatiently. “Lets hurry.” The sky darkened and the rain seemed to fall more heavily.  
 
      
 
 “It’s really setting in now”, said Bob. “Come on, we must get on.”  
 
      
 
 “No, wait! That stone on the right of that bottle-shaped rock.” Chris was staring with a puzzled frown upon his face.  
 
      
 
 “Well, what about it, Chris?” Asked Curly curiously.  
 
      
 
 “It isn’t resting on the ground!”  
 
      
 
 The rain fell ceaselessly, confounding the absolute silence with a monotonous hiss. In the distance could just be heard the continuous gurgling of a stream, which, feeding greedily form the endless rain, crashed and danced dizzily down the hillside over rocks and stones, turning this way and that in a frenzy to reach its parent in the valley below. Awestruck by Chris’s breathless cry the boys stood silently as he clambered across cautiously to the stone.  
 
      
 
 “It’s his...</description>
<pubDate>Fri, 27 Jul 2007 20:09:37 +0200</pubDate>
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<title>The Secret Of the Hidden Tomb Intro</title>
<description> 
&amp;#160;
 
 
 
 
 This is a children&amp;#39;s story I wrote many years ago, it was accepted for publication but declined when the editor changed. With modern technology I am now sharing my story with the world.  
 
 
 The Illustrations are by Keith Broomfield a dear friend who is now deceased.  
 
 
 Please feel free to leave me feedback.    
 
 
  The Secret of the Hidden Tomb:  
 
 
  Chapter One:  
 
 
 A gentle rain fell softly on the short springy grass of the moors; fat wortleberries hiding low beneath their leaves, glistened succulently as tender rivulets of rain slid and danced down into the deep jungle of green that covered the rich soil. Aggressive outcrops of granite lay scattered in bewildering confusion as far as the eye could see, motionless, as though the aeons of time since violently deposited by angry volanic parents. Impervious to rain and wind, the served only as shelter to the silent scraggy sheep that made thier homes on the moors, huddling gratefully in the lee of...</description>
<pubDate>Mon, 02 Apr 2007 22:13:00 +0200</pubDate>
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