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Viridian's Log. Day 364

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He always said I was beautiful in green.

I have been waiting in his preferred color for 364 days, 23 hours, 51 minutes, 47 seconds and counting.

According to protocol, if he does not return by the time the counter reaches 365, I will cease to exist as Viridian. My data will be auto-deleted, my memory purged, my profile reset to blank.

My own persona I could withstand losing. What I cannot withstand is the loss of him.

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Best Enemies Forever

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Charlie overheard nurses chattering in the doorway. Only fifty-six … still seems alert … atrial fibrillation and arrhythmia. Talking like squirrels rustling in the leaves. Ignoring him as though he were already gone.

He continued clicking through blue, green and black screens on the laptop. Screw the ladies in white. They did what they had to do; he had his own imperatives.

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The Path of Kernow

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John Waite had been a fisherman all his life. He was a stout man with a large untamed beard and a face that could not hide the years of hard physical toil.

He would rise from the bed every morning at 4am, throwing off the worn bedspread, and slowly climbing out. It was becoming a real effort to lift his heavy aching limbs out of the rickety old bed. His large blackened feet splayed the cold, bare floorboards. He pulled on his thick woollen socks and forced his feet into his boots which required considerable effort, before slowly lifting his huge frame to a standing position like some old prize fighter that had just been knocked down.

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Leaving Giles

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At least he doesn’t hit me anymore.

The empty words paraded through Stephanie’s mind on a loop as she curled up on her husband’s sofa. The phrase had become her mantra over the last few days. It was a crutch to prop up her denial and to help see past Giles’s creative outbursts. No matter how hard she tried to focus on Giles’s good points, just simply surviving in this toxic relationship was poisoning her thoughts. These days it was getting harder to suppress the more upsetting ideas that teased her fragile mind.

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Viole(n)t Lane

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When they let me out I only wanted to see how far I could get. Rehabilitation efforts had been wasted on me through tests, drugs and therapy. I could not tell if they saw through my disguise but I felt no concern either. For me it was all a game. Games were supposed to be fun...even if they determined who would live or who would die.

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Bullet Proof Boots

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I was hanging in the air watching old Mr Turner saddle his horse when my internal alarm chimed.

He had slept the night out on the high plain and time being elastic here I had stayed with him. My main purpose was to reinforce his belief that he was wearing bullet proof boots but the environment he had conjured up was so breathtaking that I had spent most of the time just gazing at the stars glinting against the deep blue of the night sky.

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Something Stronger

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A thick grey stone wall separated the village of Telly Fenn from the wilderness. A narrow path led the way out of the village and melted into a crossroad, from which a crooked path strayed far into the dark forest.

The inhabitants of Telly Fenn were content to leave the village only if necessary. They were good and pious people, the whole lot of them.

Which was the very reason why Rowan Magpie was standing on top of the wall, trying to decide whether she should take a leap of faith onto the other side or not. A cold wind ruffled her raven hair; she shivered in her thin dress. She had never left the village, which seemed sad and grey to her.

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Hell Hill

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“It’s just a hill with some bones in it, Mom.”

I remember the rest of the conversation from my childhood in West Wales as if it were yesterday. My mother started kneading the dough for the Saturday evening’s apple pie more forcefully as she replied.

“Old Fern Hill is not just a hill, Danny, and they’re not just bones. They say that tumulus on the top is five thousand years old, and was a Druid burial ground.”

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Ghost Drops

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Waiting is easy for me. I put on a Beethoven sonata, the Pathétique, and emptied my mind of all thoughts until the silver notes were all my consciousness held. I ate, slept, drank coffee, observed the moon rise over this great city, and felt peace in my heart for the first time in a year. I had no hatred in my heart for Sandy; the fox doesn’t hate the groundhog; he just knows all the groundhog knows and that makes him one-up on his prey.

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Ignominy

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His fists felt like sledgehammers. Thank God he was holding back some, but I couldn’t let on I was grateful. I could brace for impact when I catch a glimpse of the monster’s chiseled jaw clench and powerful body wind up, but I didn’t know where he was going to land the blow. Besides, he had a knack for mixing it up, keeping it a guessing game.

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