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Life in Six Hundred WordsKyle Johnson's face was a mixture of anticipation and worry as he paced around in the clean, white hospital waiting room. There were others in the room, also pacing or sitting apprehensively, but Kyle paid no heed to them. His attention was focused on only one thing.
It opened! All eyes quickly snapped towards the door, faces lighting up with hope. A man in a clean white coat came out, clipboard in hand and called out in a soft, yet unwavering voice, "Mr. Johnson?"
Kyle felt a wave of anxiety surge through his body as he quickly made his way to the doctor. As he approached, he saw a slight twinkle in the doctor's eyes and immediately, he knew. He looked at the doctor, his eyes pleading for confirmation. It was given: "Congratulations. It's a boy."
Aaron Johnson danced around excitedly in the car. "Are we there yet, Mommy?" he asked eagerly.
"Almost, sweetie," replied Lori, distractedly. As a mother, she was understandably nervous about releasing her son into the world, but it
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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