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beacon

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It stood silently, waiting.

Upon the hushed plane, beneath the roiling sky, it stood.  Crafted in the shadows of yesterday, the beacon once blazed in triumph and jubilee; heralded bleak infamy, and shouted warnings into the dark of night.

Now, in leaden stillness, it looked upon the open wold and silently waited; wondering where its benefactors had gone. The village that had echoed with laughter, tears, and wisdom chanting through the years, now stood in the hush, silent and lonely.

Flame no longer kissed its crown; it stood waiting, silent, in the hush.

Lonely.  Forgotten, heralding none but the thrush.

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~Morgan~

Flash Fiction Prompted by Sue Vincent’s weekely #Writephoto prompt, this week entitled Beacon 

~Morgan~

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Beautiful photography by Sue Vincent