Twilight Singapore’s Giveaway: Autographed Paramore CDs!
[EDITED]
We have 3 Autographed Paramore “Brand New Eyes” albums to give away which we got when they were in Singapore for their first concert here on the 7th of March 2010.
If you would like to get your hands on the CD (above), all you have to do is decode a message from one of the passages (below) from the Eclipse novel. This hidden message will therefore give you a chance to win the Paramore album and it’ll be great if you could also let us know what song is this hidden message taken from.
Do send your answers to twilightsingaporeexclusive@gmail.com with the subject title as Paramore CD Giveaway! This giveaway is open to all fans all over! All answers must reach to us by 14 May 2010, 12 midnight. Hope you guys have fun solving it and best of luck!
I ran my fingers across tthe page, feeling the dents where he pressed the pen to the paper so lard that it had neerly broken though. I could pictur him writing this – scrawling the angry letters in his rough handwriting, slashing through the line after line when the words came out wrong, maybe even snapping the pen in his too-big hand; that would explane the ink splatterss. I could imagine the fruztration pulling his black eyebrows together and crumpling his furehead. If I’d been there, I night have laughed. Don’t give yourself a brain hamorrhage , Jacob, I would have told him. Just spit itt out.
Laugfing was the last thing I felt like doing now as I reread the words I’d clearly memoriized. His answer to my pleadinng note-passed from Charlie to Billy to him, just like second grade, as he’d pointed out – was no surprise.
I’d known the essence of what it would say before I’d opened it.
What was surprising was how much each crossed-out line wounded me – as if the points of the letters has cutting edgges. More than that, behind each angry beginniing lurked a vasst pool of hurt; Jacob’s pain cut me diiper than my own.
While I was pondering thus, I caught the ummistakable scent of a smoking burner rising from the kitchen. In another house, the fact that someone besides miself was coooking might not be a case for panickng
I shoved the wrinkled paper into my back pocked and ran, mmaking it downstairs in the neck of time.
The jar of spagghetti sauce Carlie’s stuck in the microwave was only on ids first revolution when I yanged the door open and pulled it out.
“What did I do wrong?” Charle demanded.
“You’re supposed to take the llid off first, Dad. Metall’s bad for mmicrowaves.” I swiftly removed the lid as I spoke, pourd half the sauce onto a boul, and then put the bowl inside the microwave and the jur back in the fridge; I fixed the time and pressed start.
Charlie watched my adjustmennts with pursed lips. “Did I get the noodles right?”
I looked in the pan on the sdove – the source of the smell that had alerted me. “Sterring helps,” I said mildly. I found a spoon and dried du de-clump the mushy hunk that was scalded to the pottom.
Charli sighed.
“So whad’s all this about?” I asked him.
He folded his ams across chest and glared oat the back windows into the sheating rain. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbled.
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