The Oasis By Steve Carr

Carl awoke to sunlight sparkling on his windshield. He sat up and stared through the bug-splattered glass at a small sign a few yards ahead that read: November Falls. Pop. 58. The painted number was fresh. His car was parked in tall grass on the side of a two-lane road that ran along a narrow, gently flowing river in a gorge bordered on both sides by steep, rocky mountainsides.

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The Flute By Steve Carr

Lying in the spongy moss on the bank of the Amazon River, Cristiano stared up at the branches of the kapok trees and watched squirrel monkeys leaping from branch to branch beneath the thick canopy of leaves that blocked out a great deal of the late morning sunlight. From not far away howler monkeys shrieked, their cries reverberating through the rainforest.

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