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Broken Record

My brother’s like a broken record.  He tells me about how we used to bike around the neighborhood pretending we were race car drivers, and how we’d gained multiple knee scrapes from turning the curb too fast. He’ll tell me this story twice, thrice, or even four times in a row, and laugh about the good ol’ days. I laugh with him, because though he doesn’t remember that he’s already told me this story for the fourth time in a row, he does remember the fun we had. My brother’s like a broken record, but I don’t mind one bit.

The Warden’s Daughter

There once was a warden’s daughter

Who was tasked to help protect

The villagers and royalty

Of the kingdom of Pluperfect.

An old prophecy had said

She’d use her power of moonlight

To hold back a great evil

And prevent her kingdom’s plight.

Alas, her power slow in coming

Made the people ill at ease.

Despite the girl’s efforts to ignite her gift,

The people she could not appease.

They gossiped behind her back,

And their complaints reached the warden’s ears.

The warden demanded she work harder,

So she worked harder for years.

But the girl’s powers did not awaken,

And she was tired all the while,

For the demands of her kingdom

We’re too much for just one child.

One day she went up the mountain,

For she said she had to pray.

As day turned to night, and night to day,

It was apparent, she’d gone away.

Now the warden’s daughter is missing.

The kingdom lives in fear

Of the evil rising in darkness

That draws ever near.

But when all seems to be lost

And darkness claims to have won

The girl will return more powerful

And the evil will be undone.

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