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Refugees in a Banana Republic
Literary

Refugees in a Banana Republic

Early dawn, when fog hung…

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A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor
Interview

A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor

Meet Breanne Mc Ivor. She…

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Nocturnal Conductions
Humor

Nocturnal Conductions

The first time it happened,…

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The Lady of the Water
Fiction

The Lady of the Water

I’d thought Central America would…

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Never Will I Leave Home
Literary

Never Will I Leave Home

You have not seen our…

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Two Blind Men
Flash Fiction

Two Blind Men

They knew well I was…

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An Interview with Ernest Brawley
Interview

An Interview with Ernest Brawley

Ernest Brawley, a native Californian,…

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Yes, I am the hare who lost. No, I did not get lazy or complacent. Let me explain. I was hopping over the meadows near the hills, and looked back to realize that the tortoise was nowhere to be seen. Assured of my healthy lead, I decided to take a short nap under the large banyan tree near the pond. The anticipation of the race had kept me up all night. For days, that old silly tortoise had boasted about his ability to plod for hundreds of miles without stopping. Life is a marathon, he said, not a sprint. I wanted to show him that I could run both far and fast. The shade of the tree was like an umbrella. I found an almost oval rock, covered it with grass and turned it into a makeshift pillow. I could hear the leaves rustling and the bees buzzing – it…