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Our Dead Will Come To Know The Sea

A fragment of fiction, cross-posted from write_away, inspired by this week's Tuesday writing prompt:

And afterward, after the end of time, there was the long walk to the sea through dark sands holding the footprints of those gone before, and in the air the taste of salt, and in the air the sound of low waves rolling endlessly to shore. They took no notice of each other, these ones who came and stood alone together. And when it was time, for each their own time, they walked into the water, walked out until the sand itself dropped away, and nothing was left, nothing held back, nothing held but themselves cradled by sea and sky in a starless night, till the waves rolled gently over them and they sank into the water. 
  

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