A STORY IN FIVE SENTENCES
The Cane Mutiny
Word passed through the field from row to row in a hush of excitement. The moon was high. It was time to go.
When dawn broke, the workers approaching the field fell silent, stopped, their machetes, now useless, held in awkward pose. The sugar cane had vanished, leaving the field perfectly flat, perfectly barren, a vista of brown earth, barely disturbed.
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