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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you donā€™t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online Ā» Fiction Ā» Field of Blackbirds by Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (e reader manga txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Field of Blackbirds by Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (e reader manga txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen



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kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the glass.
Laughter disrupted his solo ensemble of love, Floā€™s laugh in particular. ā€œMarianna, Iā€™ll be home before Marcielli.ā€ And then he kissed the glass with his lips.
By now, Marcielli was used to the personal attacks. He knew that he set himself up most of the time.
ā€œFlo, I know how frustrating it can be. Iā€™m sure there is a girl out there somewhere who is attracted to gangly Italians with big ears. Donā€™t give up the search.ā€ Marcielli was pleased with his comeback.
ā€œLadies and Gentlemen; another graduate of the Florentine school of comedy!ā€ Flo always had to have the last word. ā€œYou know I love you Marcielli, almost as much as spaghetti and meatballs.ā€
Marcielli pointed out the Alps to the rest of the team. None of them, including Marcielli had ever seen them from the sky before. The view was amazing. In twenty minutes they would be over the Adriatic Sea. Then it would only be another two hours before they landed in Skopje, Macedonia, eighty-seven kilometers south of Kosovo. The team flew like regular citizen passengers separated into three different rows. None of them felt right about being unarmed. Marko Sava, their contact with the Kosovo resistance, would meet them at the airport in Skopje. He would drive them to Kumanovo, where his brother was. It was where Sam had confirmed their weaponry and gear had been waiting.
Marcielli remembered what Reedā€™s Lieutenant, Samuel Clay, had told them before they boarded the plane in Brussels. The words sounded over and over again in his head;

ā€œBoys, when you get off this plane, your lives will change drastically. You will no longer be in that comfort zone; that zone of safety, stability and common sense. It is to be expected, that you will lose more, hurt more, cry more, hate more and even bleed more than you ever have in your entire life. You will begin to doubt the mission and doubt yourselves. Not if, but when that happens, I want you to remember this; those things are only a matter of the mind. The measure of a man depends on what he does in his life, not what he thinks. What you do in the next couple of weeks could alter the lives of hundreds of thousands and their generations to follow. That is greater than you and I. Get the job done guys.
You might discover that when you return from this mission, you will have achieved more, helped more, laughed more, loved more and lived more than ever before. To step outside your realm of safety and enter anotherā€™s realm fear and disparity, is to say to yourself; there is need to advance good over evil and I will be the one to do it. Your confidence needs to be impeccable, your integrity; unbendable, your resolve; unshakeable and your trust in one another; beyond reproach. I bid you ado as boys and I will welcome you home, as men. Good luck.ā€

Marcielli hadnā€™t heard that kind of talk from his own countrymen. Heā€™d heard it from Reed and now from Samuel Clay; two Americans. If it wasnā€™t their technology, if it wasnā€™t their intellect, if it wasnā€™t their strength, then it was their heart and passion that advanced the Americans as a modern-day superpower.
Marcielli really was inspired by what was said. He did want to return home to Marianna, he did want to play soccer again, but he also wanted to complete this mission successfully. He wondered if he would experience all those things Samuel Clay had spoken of. He wondered how it might affect his life, how Marianna would see him when he returned. Marcielli agreed to embrace whatever modifications were made to his character. He would accept the self-gratification that came from helping those people in Serbia. And he would forgive himself, for thinking like the Americans and aligning his resolve with theirs. Perhaps it would make him a better man, he thought. Though they were still in their infancy, Marcielli noticed his own convictions rising from the dirt. What lay in the road ahead, he wondered? Only time would tell. For now, he would harbor this new feeling; this new resolve.
Marcielli looked over his shoulder and saw Angelo two rows back. He was sound asleep. How does he do it? Marcielli asked himself. How does he sleep with so much to think about? Marcielli was filled with too much anticipation to be that relaxed. He noticed a family sitting next to Angelo, a man and his wife with their three children around them. The man was asleep, his wife, reading a magazine. The older boy was listening to headphones while the younger boy and his little sister shared a coloring book and fussed over who got to color with the green crayon. It was something simple and ordinary. But it was beautiful to Marcielli. It was what he hoped for someday. Marianna would be a wonderful mother, Marcielli thought. When he returned to Milan, Marcielli told himself, he didnā€™t want to wait to start a family.

************

Reed tried to play out the details of the mission in his head for the final time. All the weight was on his shoulders and he tried to assess the risks involved. But his concentration was broken with sporadic thoughts of Lindsey. He immediately forgave her for breaking his concentration.
Since Reed left her that day at the beach, these sentiments would always find their way through, no matter how deep in thought Reed was. Thoughts of her kept his spirits high and kept him going. They grounded him to reality and fantasy at the same time and would always arrive at the most useful moments.
To Reed, Lindsey represented everything that was pure and beautiful, everything close to his heart. One day he would be able to share this experience with her. Now that they were so close, he depended on her support for things like this. It saddened him that she didnā€™t know where he was going or what he was doing. He wanted her to know. Reedā€™s eyes watered up. He wanted her to know that if he didnā€™t return, it was his honor and his nobility that stole him away from her, not selfishness.
But Reed would still draw on her strength, even though they were apart. The soft glow that she cast was something he counted on and was enough to lead him out of the darkness of war. Reed sent Lindsey a letter only two days ago. But he wanted to write her again and thank her for this obscure way of instilling confidence in him even now, the way she did when they werenā€™t so far apart. He removed a pen and paper from his bag and began writing.


Lindsey,

If you donā€™t get a letter for a few weeks I donā€™t want you to worry. I love you even more than I did yesterday. I wish I could tell you where I was going, what I was doing. One day, when we are guaranteed all the time in the world together and the fog is no longer permitted to settle between us, I will share everything with you and you can fill me in on everyday that I missed. Weā€™re on the plane now, so we are well on our way. I can say I have been waiting for an assignment like this one. It is a cause I believe is worthy of the fight, a cause that cannot afford another day to pass it by and ignore it. Part of what I bring to this fight comes from you. Part of who I am is because of you and most of what I have become, I owe to you. Youā€™re amazing! You sustain my ambition and bolster my confidence. There is nothing I canā€™t do in your eyes and Iā€™m taking that with me. I canā€™t stop thinking about you. Knowing that I will be with you again, keeps me afloat. I need to be by your side again. This is who I am and this is what you mean to me. Thank you for everything Lindsey. I love you.

-Reed


Reed knew he couldnā€™t send the letter from Macedonia. He would have to send the letter to Sam and he could send it to Lindsey from Belgium. As Reed began folding the letter, he noticed Otto on the same row, but about four passengers down. He was leaning forward a little, looking at Reed. He had a kind look on his face and then he nodded his head, as if he knew that Reed was caught up in a moment with someone he cared for. Reed didnā€™t want Otto to know that it meant that much to him. He thought Otto would see it as a weakness, a distraction. But then Otto nodded his head again. This time he had a slight grin on his face, as if to let Reed know it was okay. Otto made a fist with his hand and brought it to his chest. He held it there for a moment. Reed did the same back to him. The first time Otto made that hand gesture to Reed was after their first meeting at Devos. The next day when Reed asked him what it meant. Otto told him, that in Germany, it meant, ā€˜Strength and Honorā€™.
Reed thought he too would try and get some rest before they landed in Skopje. He didnā€™t want to lay his seat back like the person did in front of him. It was rude he thought. He placed the eight-inch complimentary pillow behind his neck and tilted his head back. His eyelids fell. This time, Reed gave his mind permission to wander. He imagined driving up Pacific Coast Highway in Lindseyā€™s Buick Skylark. He imagined the two of them walking on the beach and then carrying Lindsey piggyback as they crashed into the water. Then he imagined looking into Lindseyā€™s face, touching it. Everything he had lived for and hoped
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