The Funeral

Nin woke to an odd sound. At first, as he was roused awake, he thought the deafening noise was some kind of oncoming storm or hurricane. But as his senses came flooding back to him, he recognized the sound to be the beating of wings—hundreds, perhaps thousand of them!

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Long into the Night

Nin sat on the beach and looked out over the bay and contemplated his life. He stared into the water, as if he expected to see some vision or portent in the depths. The light from the moon, reflected on the waves, danced before him and stung his swollen eyes.

He barely perceived the tiny puff of wind as a bluebird alighted on the rock beside him.

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