Flumes Volume 1: Issue 2 | Page 25

confusion, they did not realize that - in the whirling tornado and the dizzying departure - they had turned to stone.

And the river flowed away from them, little waves sparkling like diamonds in the sun. And the valley flourished in peace, growing wild and golden green behind them. And up on the hills, they remained eternally, two twin statues gazing into the distant horizon, waiting for all the butterflies to return.

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"A Fake Reality"

Marcos Carillo