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Rachel Carson






"Dangerous Voices"

a short story by Rae Carson



Text copyright © 2012 Rae Carson

Published by Rae Carson at Smashwords

All Rights Reserved


I always know when it's summer because of the light spot.

My cell has one window. It's high and small and lets in the barest haze, except in summer. Then, that haze sharpens into a beam of glorious yellow, a warm, bright spot on the wall. It slinks down glistening limestone until afternoon chases it away. If I stand against the wall on my tip toes, I can bathe my face in that spot for a few moments--or maybe longer; I'm not sure anymore--before it disappears. But even then, the warmth huddles in my beard for a while.

Today I sit beneath the window, waiting for the spot to appear. As my cell brightens, the walls turn from gray to green, for the limestone is covered with stuff that is soft and sweet to lick. It will brown and harden soon, but I wouldn't want all my good things at once.

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