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Today I’m on my way to North Carolina with a supply of masks to visit my one and only brother. So once more, a SUMMER RERUN. If you wrote a story for this prompt from 10 April 2015, feel free to rerun yours. Thank you for understanding.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
ONLY THE MOUNTAIN REMAINS
My dearest Zhilan,
This night my thoughts turn toward home and you. I cherish the times we invited the moon to join us as we shared rice wine. Remember how we dreamed I would find Gold Mountain?
Now my journey is hard and my days are filled with the pickaxe and train tracks. Never will I see you again, my fragrant orchid, nor our precious son…
“Fever musta took him.” Levi knelt beside the body and pried a piece of crumpled paper from its stiff hand. “Whatcha make a this?”
Orville squinted and shrugged. “Jest some ignorant Chinee scribbles.”