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Dr. J And The School Bus
I was driving through Pennsylvania farm country, where the Blue Ridge Mountains start their turn eastward.
It was a summer afternoon, and the humidity made the mountain ranges look like gray ghosts in the distance. There are just
some incredibly, small, isolated towns in this region, and I was wondering if any of the residents die from ennui.
When gazing over the foothills of this valley, my eye fastened on four immense castles nestled into a cutout
on the mountain. Stopping to get a better look, I saw they appeared to be abandoned. The walls were cut granite, and the roofs
were slate. Most of the window shapes were gothic arches, but I didn’t see window glass in any of them. Could it be
these immense palaces, attesting to incredible wealth, were indeed abandoned? I had to learn why. . .
(2900)
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Willard’s Last Day
"I’m not even sure what day it is." Willard thought aloud. In fact, he didn’t know if he awoke
an hour ago or a day ago. He felt kind of drugged, as if he’d been given a tranquilizer that was only beginning to wear
off. The fact he was in total darkness would have normally panicked him, but he was thinking in a clinical way, not from inside
his body.
He could tell he was in a confine, but a type he couldn’t place. It was soft, almost like skin, and had a faint odor
vaguely familiar to him. He knew, no, felt certain it was black in color because everything around him was coal-mine dark.
It was so dark he couldn’t see anything, not even his hands in front of his face.
His hearing was all right. There was a roaring sound that built to a crescendo then faded rapidly. More elements of sound
came to him. It seemed like air being moved, there was a mechanical element, like machinery being operated, and a whine he
couldn’t place. All combined, it sounded a lot like the freeway, close up.
Thinking of the freeway, Willard chuckled. He would take cats, strays, neighbors’ pets, it didn’t matter from
where. He even adopted some cats from the shelter. He’d put them in a black garbage bag, tie it off, and toss it onto
the freeway. He thought it was great fun and never tired of it. Sometimes the bags would last up to an hour but the end was
always the same. . .
(500)
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