Working on page This web site is for my cousin Mayne, who died when we were 12 years old. I miss him every much. I am just starting to work on this page. So there is not much to it The day that Maynard was taken away Maynard is the one, he was killed while playing with a gun. Some where from upabove, they needed his love. He recved a pair of wings, gog needed his help with some things. I will always rember the day, when he was taken away. My grampa came to get my mother, he took her to see my poor brother. Nobody was home, Alice and I were all alone. My family called to hear the story, witch is not one of glory. I didn't know what to do, I wanted to see him too. My dad took me to Maynards side, Praying that it was all all a big lie. As he lay in the hostpital bed, I wipped some blood from his head. His hair was soft as a feather, his face swollen to ware it felt like leather. Next to Maynard I stand, never planning to let go of his little hand. Durning the night, He fought with all his might. Waiting in a private room, we hoped to hear some news soon. Doctors said it was time to let him go, none of us wanted to though. Deep down we all knew, that there was nothing we could do. My heart broke in two, My soul turned cold blue. How could he just leave, it was just to hard to belive. As it came to our last good bye, I wanted to be the one to die. I know he's looking down, Helping us all to hold our ground. The gun which set Maynard free, is the gun witch destroyed me. This is where you tell your story or provide information to your visitors. Be sure to include changes or new information in a timely fashion. By keeping your Web site up to date, visitors will have a reason to return often. You may add text or HTML code to this field and make it as complex as you want. Or, you may erase the content of this field causing it to be hidden when people visit your site. Sample Heading 4