Monday, August 8, 2011


[caption id="attachment_1789" align="aligncenter" width="420" caption="Photo Courtesy of"][/caption]

This story is a sequel to the story Morning.

I still haven't heard from them, but I don't think I mind so much anymore.

Most days, as the signal reaches into space, I sit on a  large, gray rock. My flute—I picked it up in a nearby town—keeps me company as I play music to the valley below.

I never have been in such a peaceful place, or experienced quite this tranquility. Rumor has it that other parts of the planet aren't much different than mine was.

But I don't care. I could sit here on these mountains, enjoying the view, and playing my music for a long time. And if the signal never reaches any of my brothers, I'll be fine. Life here would be just right.

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