Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Transition

The mob filled the street, chanting incoherently for the benefit of those who had no atonal sounds to pipe through their headphones. It was important not to think too hard. Nothing moved in the houses; the Departed were silent and still as a matter of course, and anyone else who was not part of the chaos had no wish to attract attention.

One of them spotted a stray thought, drifting over the fountain. The mob roared as one and pursued. When they were finished, the shreds of a once-beautiful epiphany lay trampled on the cobbles, and the mob moved on.

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