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I am ten years old and I left my ruined village behind me in the desert I think one year ago today. I’m still in the desert. Not much to do in the desert so I have been remembering stories I have been told. And now I am ready to put one of them down. Maybe this is the first time you are hearing this. 

Way back thousands of years it was normal for Humans and Animals to speak to each other in the same language and share their stories and experiences and then pass them onto their children. For some reason that doesn’t happen anymore.

If you are learning off this story, far off in the future from me, and you speak with the animals like the old days, I wish I was there with you. “But now I am here, putting down the stories I have been told and you hold it in your sandy hands”

I know your hands are sandy because we bury these stories in the desert. Me and another boy I met in the desert keep fine company,telling each other stories that we know and do not know. When you come to the end of this story, if you are able, put your name in this and return it to the sands. The desert protects the truth for a very long time. My friend and I have nowhere to go but we always look for a star to guide us. A star like the one in this tale of a young Stork named Zakariah Watercutter.

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