Eric Franklin

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Josella slid off the wall. With her arms outstretched, her wrists and fingers rippling, her body swaying, she danced, light as a thistledown, in a big circle in the moonlight. She came round to me, her eyes shining and her arms beckoning. And we danced, on the brink of an unknown future, to an echo from a vanished past.
The Day of the Triffids
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