August 2, 2011

The Whispered Thing

I have a friend who can barely string a sentence together. She’ll place a word on a page, and then agonize over the resulting ripples as though the word were a stone thrown into a deep lake.
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The Secret Protocols of the Elders of Zion

It was afternoon, after school had ended for the day. Sash had been working in the hydroponics gardens, helping the adults with the delicate work of picking the buds. It was flowering time, and the ganja plants were at the end of their cycle.
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The Tiger Hunt

Do you remember when we were young, and we played at hunting Tigers in your backyard? There was a long rectangular pool, wrapped around it, summer-colored tiles, terra cotta, and a green gazebo with a swing hanging over one edge of the water by the pool shed.
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