![]() Outside, sunlight crawls over the eastern coast of Flowers Island, up the rocky cliffs and into the abandoned villages of the Middle Eastern Colony further to the Medieval Colony, then the Aztec, Asian, Greek, Egyptian and Roman Colonies. The music grows louder in proportion to the light, in barely perceptible measures, until its volume matches the hint of morning creeping into the bedroom. A melody so faint, it’s softer than George’s breathing. The program responds, the same way it has for the last eighteen years, by playing a melody into the young man’s bedroom. With an electric eye on the roof of Flowers Mansion sensing the light of dawn and sending an impulse to the mansion’s central computer. Still, this day of George’s birthday begins like a typical day. Mysterious forces like electromagnetic fluid, another approaching tempest, infused everything but George’s awareness. ![]() Along with darkness, and evil, and the science of massacre. What he couldn’t imagine, yet, were astonishing worlds hidden behind matter. Like all the rest, he would endure this final challenge because he still envisioned a future on Flowers Island. So much so that it felt to George like a mental version of a cilice, the coarse sackcloth shirt embedded with twigs that he was forced to wear during a lesson in the Medieval Colony. He still accepted the miseries and luxuries of lessons in his father’s Culture Colonies, this latest and final lesson in the “misery” category. In later years when George would see himself as little more than Death’s lieutenant, he would mourn this day and cherish his innocent youth.īut now was still the early morning of August 9th, George’s last few hours of previous life. And though this was a death of previous life, neither physical nor moral, it pillaged a million trivial, but dependable moments, ended aspirations, and transformed childish trust into hateful suspicion. The occasion ruined eighteen years of ignorance, education, bliss, and misery. Plato, The Republic The Grand Trine Some days were grand.īut on this birthday, August 9th, in a year that spoiled the past like an unwelcomed present, George Flowers died. …musical training is a more potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul… ![]() ![]() No part of this book may be reproduced (except for inclusion in reviews), disseminated or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or in any information storage and retrieval system, or the Internet/World Wide Web without written permission from the author or publisher.įor more information about this title, please contact: William Northey design by Pierce and John Lockwoodįor Therese Campbell, ever on and in my mind B o o k 1 Flowers Island Radiant Floor Company: Design and Installation ManualĪll rights reserved. 88 Pianos: A Recumbent Adventure Across America ![]()
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