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Published: Dec 01, 2019 in Short Story Sunday
Last update: Dec 13, 2019
Poppy popped his head up, pricking his ears. He'd heard a sound. The young man turned his nimble neck, scanning his surroundings. Waves crashed into the white-sand beach beyond the palm tree he was readying to climb. A gentle breeze pattered the leaves of the forrest. Neither of these were what Poppy heard, though. It was more direct. There was intention.