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Little BlueOn one midsummer evening, when the blue sun dipped halfway below the milky butterscotch horizon, when the dust devils raged red in the barren valleys below our city, when a familiar chill had settled in the zeolite-purified air, Grandfather told us a story.Little Blue by MoonshineChild
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My younger brother Finch and I lay side by side in our sleeping bags while Grandfather sat comfortably between the tanks of the water garden, the verdant blades of wheatgrass taller than he. The distant pink sunset illuminated the wrinkles on his gentle face. Cradling his ivory helmet in his arms, he leaned against the angular wall, and said to us:
“A long, long time ago—when science was not so advanced as it is today—our ancestors lived on another planet. They called this planet ‘Earth.’
“Earth was a beautiful place. There were vast, snowcapped mountains and golden canyons. There were navy seas and rich green plains where flowers of every shape and colour grew. Best of all, the planet was filled
Old Man Run(Minor Warning: Contains strong language, two instances of the f-word)Old Man Run by jinnzhong
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Magnetic turbulence shook the Santa Muerte’s cargo hold and everybody inside it.
Whitman held the doped-up girl in his arm closer. Her head lolled, swinging into his chest. Whitman caught it, kissed her temple gently and murmured, “We’re almost there,” as he stroked her matted, dirty blonde hair, soothing her.
The girl drooled. She was skinny as a stick. No more than ten years old, dressed in a worn wool sweater over a plain, canvass dress.
A plump Corsican peasant woman sitting across from Whitman smiled warmly at the two of them. She most likely believed Whitman was the girl’s father. It was the exact pretense Whitman was aiming for.
He flashed his teeth briefly, then glanced away.
These simple people sickened Whitman. They’re willfully blind to what really goes on these mule-ships; where children end up, what they’re coerced to do later and for life.
To the untrain