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an excerpt from The Anchor by Tim Walker One side argued there was no point in building more; it was all going to end anyway. They built tiny shacks with loose grass tops and dirty pebble walkways. The other side thought it was all a bunch of poppycock - their world would stand forever. The dipping mountains presented cathedrals and great palaces; the sloped valleys cradled cozy cottages, crowned with vibrant leaves and red mulberries. And so a great war broke out between the two sides, until the dead lay like bread crumbs tossed to the pigeons, peppering the landscape. All the great thinkers from both sides fled to their legendary council hall to discuss the new threat, the new fear, and the possible cause of their kingdoms annihilation. Arguing and yelling, the meeting turned into a thunderstorm, until somewhere, a quill began to itch. The whole room went silent as white walls and stared at the far left corner, high in the back. The old deaf man with two hearts folded the written note into an airplane and lofted it. The wisdom glided softly towards the center podium; flashing eyes transfixed like stars following the earth. The venerable head thinker deftly revealed the message, stood straight up, and cleared his throat loudly. The sky grew clear and spilled liquid blue from horizon to horizon as the two factions returned to their respective cities. The flyers were posted everywhere, from the back of a toddler in a one piece, to the face of the streets and sidewalks. In large black letters people absorbed the words. Concern slowly sung away by cheeky grins. They all realized the end of the world was in their hands; their futures and lives were being gambled at their own discretion. Casting away the old grudges, the trade routes were reopened and the cities became friends once more. The land prospered greatly and the people built a gigantic monument dedicated to the council and placed over the swamp.Home |Read | Fine Art Prints | Contributors | Bookstores We Are Featured In |
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