Paper and string I may be,
With tiny bones blown by gusts.
The blue open sky knows my name,
Even my shadow lets go.
Georgia
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The lights beckoned her out. She knew the warnings. “Marie, good girls don’t venture out at night,” she had heard every evening growing...
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Instructors Note: This is an exercise in adaptation of a sort, an experiment to see if it is true, as I believe, that all good stories are...
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I felt the wind and saw alternating red and green lights streaming out of the tunnel as the massive train car pushed the air through the t...
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