The Pale Bridge
"Did you see the wings?" I looked up from the mud. My hands were black with silt. The water in the trench was black, too, reflecting the bruised sky. I shook my head. "No, brother. I saw only the water." "Look again," Thomas said. His voice was a low rasp, tight with fear. He was twelve. I was seven. He stood on the bank, his boots sinking into the wet earth. His eyes were wide, fixed on...
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