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The Mystic Lagoon
Margaret, Age 12, Barrie, ON

My mystic dreams seep out of my head and flow past me like a rushing stream, encircle me in a sea blue ribbon, securing me from reality, and rush, rush, rush forever on, and on, a blur of several hues of blue.

When the twister concludes, I am lying in the warm grainy sand of the lagoon, where a waterfall’s misty silver blue water fills the air densely.

The sand beneath me feels like the sun gathered it to bake under the hazy rays of light, wrapping each grain closely to it. The palm trees gently whistle, and ruffle their leafy deep green branches, whispering the delights of the island lagoon gently into my ear, like a soft patch of fur tickling down my spine, a rush of thrill slithered through my body.

The sea kissed me with its gentle, salty spray. Wispy white clouds cascaded through the soft blue sky like floating spirits. All was magical....all was mystic in the blue lagoon.

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