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A collapse of horses stories5/10/2023 And yet, on the edge of the paddock, not twenty yards distant, a man fills their trough with water. They do not breathe and do not, as far as you can see, move. All four are prone, with no horses standing. Lying there on their sides, in the dust, unnaturally still, are four horses. Imagine this: walking through the countryside one day you come across a paddock. Now it is your turn to listen to me, to listen to my proofs, though I know you will not be convinced. Why you choose to pretend to be, and what you hope to gain from it: this is what interests me. You are not one of them, you cannot be, for if you were you would be dead. But in their case they did not recover, but perished. I am certain they burned, that their faces blackened and bubbled, just as did my own. I am certain nobody in my family survived. This story has been drawn from the February/March issue of the American Reader, available here.
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