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A recorded reading of “A Child’s End, A World Grown Cold”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Abandoned innocence, a childhood’s end— the lesson bells grow sharp, the hours harden. We trade the field for fences, ink for sand, and pockets full of marbles for a swipe of a hand. The arid map of grown-up days lies flat: streets chalked in steel, no paths beyond that. Grey weather presses down; the sky won’t mend— a hush that means not wonder, only wind. Bikers rake the morning into chrome, their engines stitching speed through stone. They do not look; the curb keeps score— a tally of scrapes we wore before. On a desert beach—no water, only light— a mute beacon stands, refusing night. Two girls clutch robot toys that blink and stall, red eyes jittering, almost a call. A scarecrow waits where barley used to lean, a school shirt buttoned tight along the seam. Its wooden wrists remember how to hold; the sleeves keep one small ring of salt and gold. We learn the louder language, bite and code; we shoulder timetables, a heavier load. The swing’s old promise rusts, the chains grow cold— what once said “higher” now says “hold.” Abandoned innocence, a childhood’s end— the magic keeps its silence, won’t pretend. Yet in a palm, a toy-heart warms, then slows, and on that sleeve, the child-sized salt ring glows.
Alternative version
Abandoned innocence, a childhood’s end— lost in a world that fails to comprehend the magic and wonder of a child’s mind, discarded swiftly for maturity’s bind. The arid landscape of grown-up life leaves little space for joy and light. Desolate fields where dreams once gleamed now wither beneath a gray sky’s beams. Children, once carefree and enchanting, are lost in a world too harsh and demanding. Bikers race through terrain of steel and stone, leaving behind the innocence they’d known. On a lonely desert beach, a beacon stands— girls clutching robot toys with desperate hands, seeking escape from storm and night, a world where innocence fades from sight. A scarecrow looms in a field of shattered dreams, a symbol of the lost and forsaken, it seems. Serene souls grasp at the threads of simple living, yet the magic and wonder are no longer forgiving. Abandoned innocence, a childhood’s end— lost in a world that fails to comprehend the beauty and joy of a child’s play, left behind for a world that has lost its way.
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