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Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.

And no one called us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
Something stirs and something tries
Starts to climb toward the light.


Saturday, January 31, 2009

Writing Saturday

Finished up the new frame to War Stories. Kept to the same word count. The story is now a little stronger, a little darker. Now it's off to the editor to see if he likes it better.

One of the by products of coming up with my rejection statistics is it forced me to get my paperwork in order. Everything is in its place now.

Now on to other things.

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