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The Dust and the Red

by on Mar 5, 2011 in Short Fiction | 0 comments

By Darin Bradley I was ten the first time I saw the pearl.  The soil had come loose in Sweetgrass, and to protect the family, my father dug the pearl out of its niche beneath the jamb.  He had to clean it, and, since we only had one room, he had no choice but to show us.  Taking it...

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