#writephoto

Worn #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

worn-steps

 

“Those worn steps,” she said as they stood in front of their door, “speak of our story…”

She was right, but he was pleased there was then no-one to hear, or see them. How could they explain? They were coming home, after so many years. Years? Ney, decades, or worse. This house his ancestors had built. When? He smiled, took her hand, and they walked up to the door. Their door.

Behind that door was their life, their secrets. And her, his lady, his immortal love. On the doorstep they kissed. He was already enabriated by her scent, the touch of her tongue.

The small entrance was dark. She shut the door, and led him to the back, to their room.

“And now, let’s celebrate!” she said, pushing him on the bed. This was worn too. As he felt the delight of her teeth on his throat, he knew they were really back home.

Glisten #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

shimmer

 

Is this you, running toward me, in the dying light of our star? Is it you, or your double, or your servant? I know it cannot be you, how much I wished it were. But I know: I lost you, eons ago, far away. Tonight I remember, the long voyage, the hopes, the battles. And you, your beauty, your strength, the knight this girl dreamed of. I see you, slaying the devils, archangel in a shiny armour. I see the broken sword.

And now this: a dying star, a dead sea. All hopes lost, so few of us left, waiting for the end, on the glistening sand.

Vista #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

vista

 

“Soon we will be back, walking those hills, and finding ourselves, again.”

It’s true, she thought, life is an eternal come back.

Simply, we change, not the hills, not the sky. Only us grow old.

Or it feels like it.

So, we will have to rewrite the story, or is it stories?

Will the nights be as silent, the vistas as inspiring?

Will we retrace our steps, or lose our way, as if in a foreign land?

How do we rewind time?

Dream #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

dream

 

They were back, still in a daze, amazed at the colours, the air, the clouds. She took his hand, in silence, knowing he could not be reached, yet. Was this real? Or was it a dream, another dream? If it was, then she did not want to wake him up, or herself. Not now.

If it was a dream, was there a purpose? Were they expected to go back, abort the mission, or go forward, further still into the future? Was this land their world, was it now, or was it down the tunnel of time? Then who was treading the sand under their feet?

Dakar

Silver #writephoto

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Thursday writing prompt

silver-1

 

“I am glad you brought me here, Paul,” she said in a whisper, “I have never seen water on this scale. Even here, this small pool. And the wet sand…”

The boy looked back at her, his young bride, as through her veil he saw the blue in blue eyes. “This is Caladan, a water world. Eighty percent of the globe is oceans. I was born here. You can imagine how I felt when I came to Arrakis…”

They were both silent. A small displacement of air signalled the arrival of their transport. Soon, at the top of the dune, their escort appeared in the traditional long robes.

“M’Lord, your transport is ready when the Princess and your Lordship are.”

“We are, General, we were admiring the silver reflection in the lagune.”

Inspired by Sue’s prompt on Thursday, and thoughts of Caladan. I must say I look forward to Villeneuve’s Dune.

Soar #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

storm-clouds-1

 

“They are already on the move? They are geese, I think, perhaps a vanguard, it would mean a very early winter…”

“Or they are tourists, having a look around. Besides, a storm is bubbling up above us, they could be looking for shelter.”

“Or they are spirits, warning us to leave, while we have a chance. It may not be winter that’s coming. It could be locusts, or a big earthquake…”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

 

Secret #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

secret

 

You can stop worrying, no-one will ever know, your secret is safe, hidden, under key. Now you have regained your freedom, there is no evidence, no proof, nothing has ever happened. Your thoughts are safe, and as you well know, time erases everything.

So, it is up to you, what you do with your life, where you go, who you meet. In the meantime, you only need to think of your enjoyment. As for her, she too will soon be forgotten.

 

Veiled #writephoto

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Thursday writing prompt

veiled

 

What is there beyond? Is it in our time, or elsewhere, across a void? If we walked to the edge, what would we find? Is there a bridge, through the veil? Is it passable?

What would we find in that wilderness, would we meet other beings, or only rocks? Is it even wise to ask those questions? Did the Creator intend for us to look in that direction?

Or is the veil there for a reason, in order to stop us interfere with that elsewhere? After all, our interference with all things, alive or mineral, on this side of the chasm, has not been entirely successful, has it?

So maybe, this is intended, a veil to warn us: beyond this point you shall not go, thus far, but no further.

Guardian #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

watchers

 

I am waiting. I know you will come, when does not matter to me: I am old, and patient.

When you arrive, I will be ready. Maybe, by then, you will be wiser. If not, woe to you.

You may think that, after those eons, I should have forgotten. Poor you. I forget nothing, ever. Besides, I know your sort: the species that believes they can trample the spring flowers, anywhere, regardless, as if it was their home. It isn’t.

Lack of respect, I call it. Well, respect you shall learn, the hard way.

For there is a guardian on these shores, unforgiving, immortal.