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Beverly Fox
Wanna be writer publishing flash fiction and blogging at
Wanna be writer publishing flash fiction and blogging at

Beverly's posts

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The Promise of Summer
The birdsong is constant, all you have to do is listen.  The sun is strident, a force on the body as heavy as gravity.  The green is relentless, creeping out from crevices too small to contain it.  And the wind carries on the promise of summer.

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It was an accident.  Freak, unfortunate, random act of shit.  But like many of those horrible events that permanently alters the course of one's life, it happened.  And much like those events, it couldn't be undone. But she didn't know that yet.  And she pl...

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Face Value
There's no sense in lying, he thinks.  Who would know anyway?  Random
strangers believe whatever they take at face value.  And wherever he
went, all anyone ever saw was the face.

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Everything is everything- that's been one of the lessons here.  And although our practices haven't specifically touched on it they don't have to because of that.  Because in everything- every element, every person, every experience, every moment- there is l...

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A single blade of grass.  Sand sticking to the sides of your feet. 
The smell of pine needles and moss in the forest.  A small yellow
dandelion.  Everywhere, everywhere are reminders of home.  My mother,
Gaia, keeping me grounded and calling me back when...

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She breathed and she felt it- the life force entering her lungs, filling her body, moving her forwards.  She felt it along the surface of her skin: sometimes like the gentle caress of a lover, sometimes with the force of a shove.  She heard it whistling thr...

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The sun awoke her with unrelenting heat.  It beat against her back through the open window and her skin began spitting perspiration before her mind rallied for movement.  The elements seemed to demand her attention, her action.  "I am here," it demanded.  "...

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She had forgotten.  She hadn't realized that the memory was there until the scent crept into her nostrils again.  The salt, the rotting, the dampness.  The foam and mist and violent summer storms.  The waves and sand and crustaceans.  The tumultuous cycle o...

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It was a sound Morg was unfamiliar with and it startled him from sleep, leading his body to jolt upright well before his mind could begin to guess the cause.  He looked around, straining his neck against the metal breast plate and cursing the armor he felt ...

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Goal setting, while necessary and valid, can be a tricky thing.  Because no sooner can one envision a potential future than feel passion for it to happen.  Pressure for it to happen.  Expectation.  And we all know what expectations do to us. And my logical ...
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