Glass #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

glass

 

“When was this photo taken?”

“Sir, we cannot be certain, it was transmitted just before the station was destroyed, that is, before the start of the eruption. As one can see, there is no trace of dust or smoke.”

“And what do our satellites see?”

“Nothing, Sir, just dust, surrounding the whole planet. It must be dark down there, doubtful there will be any survivor.”

“And that little island on the other side of the lake?”

“We think, now, that this is where the first eruption took place. It’s hardly believable: a stable old ground for millennia.”

“Well, we will have to rethink. Any other pictures?”

“No, Sir. All cameras have been vaporised.”

Before the long journey

Rachael

 

From the gate it was a short walk to the ship, under the high protective dome which had been erected on their arrival the year before. The leader could see his crew was excited: they would find back their cubicles, their personal possessions, holograms, books, games, even the small pets they were allowed to keep on the journey. They would also find, for the lucky ones, messages from family and friends. He looked at each of them, smiling, as they stood before the door, at the foot of the small elevator. They exchanged jokes and greetings. Over half of them were humans, fourth or fifth generation colonists who had volunteered for the reconnaissance of their old world. The others were replicants, but an uninformed observer could not have guessed. He thought the replicants tended to be smaller and somehow more fragile looking, many were women for whom it was the first long range spatial experience. From what his first officer had told him, he knew already that it was them who had been the most agitated until his return. Now they were all boarding slowly and orderly the big ship.

He found the size and glow of the hull pleasing. Two thirds of the vessel were taken up by the drive, the giant fusion reactor that allowed the ship to achieve trans galactic speed. But they would use the much smaller magnetic drive to leave the earth. The leader had several hours of tests and preparations to work through before their departure. He was looking forward to this work. Himself a replicant of the twelfth generation, cosmonauts and navigators, he would steer the ship into orbit, and then out of the solar system. The entire crew, bar himself and the first officer, would then be sent to cryogenic sleep for most of the journey. This would happen about a year after their departure from earth.

As he initiated the first test programs, the leader reflected on their mission. It had been a great success. They had plenty of recordings and measurements. Non-human life was now again plentiful on earth. The machines the previous mission had left to roam the oceans had done  beautiful work of removing and destroying the plastic and other noxious material that polluted them. The atmosphere was clean.

There was more. One of the replicant ladies expected a baby. The first human being conceived on earth for three hundred years.

Picture: Rachael, Blade Runner

Stillness #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

 

weymouth-028

 

“… No, we can’t detect any sign of human or humanoid life anywhere… There is plenty of life in the water, on land too, mammals and birds… plenty of beautiful insects…”

“What about buildings, traces of recent organised activities?”

“There are ruins, covered with vegetation, some remnants of railroads… We have scanned what looks like bombed-out urban complexes, mostly under water, on what might have been the coast line, before the floods…”

“Can you confirm the telemetry: any trace of emissions, radioactivity?”

“All confirmed. Radioactivity is stronger around the old nuke power stations, mostly flooded, but weakening. As our satellites showed, there is no radio emission. Some structures look like ancient observatories, on remote mountains. All dead.”

“Okay, it looks as if there is nothing for us to do here. Just complete the scans, and then come back when you are done. The orders are to continue to explore the remaining planets in the system. Just in case some of them have escaped there…”

 

Span #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

span-2

 

What we see, the beauty around us, the clear water, the trees… We do not have words, in your language, to express our admiration, no, our love for your world. Where we come from, but you could not start imagining what it means, there is no such beauty. I should say, there is no longer such beauty. You would understand why we have travelled for so long, so far.

So, we are here now, though you don’t know it yet. But you will, soon. You see, we have longed searched for a world like yours, still full of the marvels of nature. We know you are not worthy of it, and possibly, some of you know it as well. But it does not matter.

Across the universe you are not alone, to spoil the beauty, to destroy every gift you received, in the name of greed. Sheer stupidity. As those old stones, on the ancient bridge, can testify. Blinded by your own delusion, you don’t even sense that your end is nigh.

So, we are here now. Just in time. We will eliminate you, that is so easy, we will clear the damage, restore the earth and the oceans to their pristine state. We will plant trees. For we are small, but immensely strong, we do not need much to live on, and leave no trace. We are the future of this world, and of all its other inhabitants. We are your Nemesis.

Small #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

 

small-1

 

Emulating Kafka, on the shore, I watch the waves, and wonder.

Is time a mere oscillation of the sea?

Is Gaia alive only for as long as the waves roll in?

This water world, will it dry out, like Arrakis?

Who are the Fremen of this world? 

I do not know.

I am so small.

Threshold #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

looking-out

 

There, long ago, when we had space, and the air was pure, there we lived: us, the whole tribe, the children, the very old, the wise and the fools. At night we were safe, the sea protected us. We had many friends, and few enemies. We were poor, and strong.

The cave was our home, where we lived, loved, and died. The world wasn’t ours, but we knew our place, and this place was here, on the threshold. Far beyond was eternity.

Rift #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

 

cracked

 

“Once the ice was covering this ground, smooth, unchanging. Then the boulders were round still, and the humans nowhere to be seen. The world was young.”

You were reading my mind, but know better. You walked here, often, you and your tribe. Then there was no human eye to see you. Even now, I know you’re here, but only your voice reassures me that it is not a dream.

But I see you as you once were. Proud, agile, attuned to the ice, the rocks, the flying creatures in the air, the growing trees.

Now, you are waiting. The rift will pass, the ice will return. And we, unscrupulous hooligans, will go.

 

Confession of a Summer Agnostic #fivewords

Weekly Writing Prompt #159

herbst-regen-9f928b49-9b03-4f00-945d-b50377f60402

 

I confess I have never been a sun worshipper. Red meat on a dry rack, sorry, beach, does not inspire me. Perhaps is it a question of name? Summer, Sommer, sommaire, echoes of summary… Execution? I long for Autumn, for the fresh smell of wet ground, for the scent of pine trees, at last drinking the dawn dew. I love the way the temperature drops at night… sweet dreams.

I long for the rain, for the gift of rain, falling on the parched earth, for the sound of rain drops on the lake. Solace.

Photo: Herbst Regen, source

Thaw #writephoto

Thaw

thaw

 

He remembered: in his youth, this landscape would have been covered with snow, frozen, for several weeks, even, on a colder year, for months. Now, the thaw had come before Christmas. They’d had two snow storms, and, perhaps, it would be all for the winter…

But he knew. Despite all the speeches, the pledges, the politicians’ grand gestures, nothing really had changed. Nature, the Earth, would wait. It had happened before, long ago, before the great flood. It would happen again.

The old man resumed his walk. The late December sun rays were warm on his skin.

An Alert, but no Tragedy #fivewords

Inspired by the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt #110

DSC_0418

 

Storms upset us, though we know that “Xavier” did not compare with the hurricanes that wreck the Caribbean’s, and the East Coast of America. Why should we be so sensitive? Of course because of the casualties, the destruction, and the trees. The city was not devastated, but it was a genuine alert. On Sunday, driving to the delightful town of Bernau, we saw the branches and uprooted trees everywhere. But the world had gone back to normal, perhaps waiting for the next tragedy. We can do no more about the Earth’s anger than we can about our rent… Such is life.

Photo: near the Rathaus, Bernau bei Berlin. ©2017 Honoré Dupuis