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Barb Dukeman
Bio
An English teacher by trade, I’ve spent 32+ years in the classroom, instilling a love of literature (and a tolerance of writing) in my students. I started reading at the age of three and started writing at 13 with a poem about green socks.
Stories (122/0)
For Safety
Smoke curling through the pale orange sky over the distant hill indicated to Helena that morning was on the horizon. The fires provided warmth for the remnants of that small village whose people hunted for rats or squirrels, cooking them over crude stone pits and metal grates. In the distance, Helena had become a scavenger as well, digging through the heaps of destruction that occurred when one world state clashed with the other years ago. The war yielded no winners, only broken people, pawns struggling to survive.
By Barb Dukeman3 years ago in Futurism
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