Nebraska Center for Writers

by Norbert Zaenglein

WENDY WAS DRAWN INTO THE NUCLEUS of the bronzed effigies where their voices were most unmistakable. The mesmerized young student stood silent and motionless in the strange circle, unable to escape the lure of the grand statues that whispered of a world once resplendent beyond all human comprehension. These foreign notions filled the young student with terror and confusion since none of the ancient books and manuscripts moldering in the underground caverns corroborated such a profoundly radical departure of thought. Scholars, who had ventured into the stony, unlit depths to study the ancient moldy volumes, had, upon their hasty return, sworn a sacred oath that none of the still-discernable writings contained references to a world free of darkness and noxious vapors. The only remaining books, they vowed, told of ancient and forgotten sports. From sheer absence of traces that might suggest otherwise it had therefore become universally acknowledged that contemporary scientists had created the roaming seas of wildflowers, the dense, luscious thickets, and the frail trees upon which a colorful assembly of small nervous birds sat and twittered. To say such things of awe and beauty existed in the time-digested ages was a desecration of all held holy and sacrosanct. Writing anything to the contrary was blasphemous and cause for immediate banishment, and it was thought dangerous even to entertain such rebellious notions within the silent confines of one’s own black thoughts.

Reprinted with permission
from "Circle of Amulet Statues"
Copyright © 2003
by Norbert Zaenglein

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