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On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground,
blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears,
a soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill
and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Monday, August 4, 2008

His delete key went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head, he went galumphing back

"War Stories" is now 4985 words long. Tonight's edits were a hunt to "eliminate needless words." I did rewrite about 250 words or so. I bobbled around the 5000 mark for a long time. Bobby is a more haunted figure now. Most of his friends at the legion hall might not believe his story, but one knows he was telling the truth.

The email is in the cue as I type this. I screwed up and tried to send it before I was connected. I'm really tired. Ah, now it cleared.

I'm glad I slept on it. I found some horrendous grammar and a few dastardly typos. I think I caught them all, although the editor may disagree.

I know the story still holds up for me, but then I knew what it was all along. Now I'm worried I cut to far. Oh well. I guess we'll see.

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