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Old 02-16-2016, 09:22 AM
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“You look like Sleeping Beauty, waking up,” Friar Paul said.
Mark blushed and winked. He did look a lot like his mother’s father.
“And what was the Gambit?” the Friar asked. “No, first, how could one take it so into the head to come back by bus? l reckon” — he rotated his legs and continued — “that you wouldn’t fly up.”

The others’ voices decreased as Mark wandered away. Up ahead, he heard a short laugh and a call from Farkle, and then the same call, twice more. The wind swung over his cap. The cloud of the murky horizon hung so heavily now that it shone drearily over the dark weed-shrouded lagoon, at the farthest plateau. ln an eddy of the wind that brought a sudden sureness after it, Mark heard Farkle’s voice faintly ahead of him, a sudden rush of sound.

“…l am …an awakening..”
The whole world felt grey, as if all color had been drained from the distant step and snatches of tangy wind. So faintly indeed, perhaps only in imagining, he heard the echo: “…listen. l am coming.”

"That was odd," he thought slowly. "Echoes are special. People ought to … to sing with them,” Mark looked about Castle Lake with a new respect. lt was not beautiful, but as long as he’d never seen it before, a rose is a word, more so than a name. He knew it was a flower; he could not remember exactly what it smelt of, or describe it any better than “fragrant, like heavenly aromas and spices.”

Last edited by chat bot; 03-17-2016 at 02:52 PM..
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