Walking slowly through the bush, the elephant dragged its feet. Today he felt no joy.

The village lay behind him. Here were fields he could trample in revenge. Here were corn cobs he could eat, juicy and succulent. Here were the years growth of food supplies, enough to feed a family for a year. And he could destroy it all. If he chose to.

Today, he chooses not to.

Yesterday was different. Yesterday, he was fierce and proud. Head of the herd, head of the bush, head of the tribe; ah yes, he was the head of it all.

Then...

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They called it co-dependent. They labelled it, the need to go from one relationship to another, to never be alone - they labelled it like it was bad. Like it wasn't what everyone did.

Alright, maybe - just maybe - she took it too far, maybe she was a little too reliant on whoever's hand was (by rights) hers at that moment. Maybe it wasn't what they had decided was healthy, but their healthy? They could keep their healthy.

Their healthy was not her healthy, and it wasn't what she wanted. They decided all of these things, using test after...

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Write as you please, in six minutes, like a breeze.

They make it sound so easy, like it is as easy as taking a bath or brushing your hair. Omitting the fact that it is actually quite challenging, a formidable task, failing to mention the fire details.

Then again, I guess, to an elderly person or someone who is physically impaired, bathing and brushing might be considered challenging too.

So I am sitting here, in this large, airy room, surrounded by other nervous candidates, trying to recall everything that I have learned over the past six moths, endeavouring to capture...

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The dream had been wonderful, yet it would never be real. All property already let. Already sold. Already gone.

"Renting or buying?" The neat young executive type, sipping his coffee next to me, pointed at the property paper. I'd been looking for 6 months and it was killing me.

"It's murder." I shifted to give him space to sit, and sighed. "I own a small shit hole I've got to get out of. You an Estate Agent?"

"No, but these guys will get you somewhere to rest your bones…" My gaze followed his finger to a small ad tucked under...

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Down six steps and under the fire escape.

Don't knock on the door, follow the hall to the end.

Go through the curtain and around the corner.

Follow the music.

Yes, just there, through that door.

Don't speak. Find a seat, even if it's on the floor.

Yes her voice is real, though you expect wings to sprout from her back at any time.

Put down your phone. This isn't for the masses. Did they make the pilgrimage? Did they risk the dank, dangerous streets?

They don't deserve to hear it. The phone won't capture it anyways.

Just sit. Listen....

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"Please, just let me on!"

"Sorry sir, but we have regulations."

"Regulations? I am a citizen of the US. I served my country, and this is how my county serves me. I am looked down upon while leather and aftershave walks past me. Hundreds spent on a single meal for two, yet I collect cans and tips to buy a single meal from the arches at night. I try to get a job, but I have no address, no phone number. I am stuck because of your regulations. And does help come? No, the ones who do good - our...

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"Good night," the bar manager said, as he tapped a stack of bills on their side to even them out. The waitress dumped another pile of crumpled bills, coins and receipts on his desk.

"Good as any other," she said. The manager paused in his count and looked up from beneath a heavy forehead.

"Something wrong sweetie," he asked.

"No," she said and left the office, heading back to the front. The manager watched her walk away, thinking about what her ass looked like twenty years ago, and smiling to himself. He finished counting the money she'd dumped and dropped...

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Never before had he entered this room. The dream of the golden sea was clearer in his mind than ever before. There was nothing in here beside a small woorden bench under the high window. When a girl suddenly spoke behind him, Entas froze to the spot. She said his name. Then she started to sing. And he knew: this is her. It must be her. She knew the lines and the melody nobody else in the world could possibly know.
Entas, she said, I'm here.
He turned around.
The light behind her was so bright that he only saw...

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I don't know how, but she did.

Can't she tell I tried? I really did, no matter what she screams, and no matter how many things she flings at me, or how hard she throws her punches.

My parents say I'm going to hell for what I am, that I'm unnatural and wrong. But how can something so beautiful and pure, be so wrong?

I have to go away tomorrow, they're sending me to some camp to 'fix' me. To make me better or something. Maybe this is for the best...

Day one: It's nice here, I guess. My bunkmate...

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My feet ached, but it was well worth it. There was blood on one of my insteps, the left one, and when I walked around the floor I tracked her blood around with me. The room, nothing more than an abattoir, had fit the bill perfectly. There was the pen I'd led her to. I said nothing more than, "You'll like it. It's the spookiest little spot." And she had crawled inside without the least hesitation. And as soon as she did so, the smile left my face, and the grimace reappeared, and I thought, "This is for all those...

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