The Bridge

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Tinting Outside the Lines

Angry clouds rumble. The faint swirls of the remains drift via the knoll. Smoke fingers break and spread. Front winds tidy up the last of it. Ashes of trees sear as the brush of drizzle shows up. The work of the lightning subdued by its stormy darkness. Still upset clouds rumble. Hidden hands throw rainfall bitterly to the fields.

Stephen runs from the timbers. His young eyes wish to snoop a break in the weather. Rather the weather spits harder. He puts his head within his coat. It’& rsquo; s turned collar pointless. Virtue of young eyes glow with a plain sheen. His 8 years are enough to know the method yet not able to get by the bridge.

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“& ldquo; Davey! Davey! & rdquo; Stephen raises his face to the rain. A voice ripples in concern and also fluctuates hope. ”& rdquo; Davey! I understand you are here! Come aid me!”

& rdquo; Stephen looks left and right. The darkness of evening & hellip;

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