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writing prompt for 4/16/20


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  1. What a beautiful locale: I hope killer this and that lives in that beautiful water. If I could swap out its depths and substitute shallows, I would love for a mechanics of cash money to transport me. Obviously, the minute I step my feet in the water someone hands me a bong rigged from a coke bottle. Even more obviously, all the killer biomass goes on a Canadian vacation the minute my skin arrives at the water. Or, heck, this photo could already be one taken in Canada. So the killers have, like snowbirds savvier than Florida, headed for Georgia.

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  2. Who’s been pushed into those clear depths? Were they weighted down with armbands of jewels and gold chains around their necks? What were they thinking as they walked to the mossy edge? What were they shouting as they were pushed over, hands tied behind the back? To which god or goddess were they dedicated before their last breath? A sun god? A fertility goddess? Was it head-first, or was it feet first? Maybe they toppled. I imagine some of them hit their heads against a granite swell and were dead or unconscious by the time they smacked into the water.

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