Clouded #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

low-cloud

 

“It was written: now they are coming…”

Her voice was calm, and her friend understood she was merely stating a fact. She too had thought of the omen in the last nights, as they both laid, enlaced, on the soft land, under the moon.

They looked at each other, in silence. Evolution is about that, she thought: we live, we prosper, we ruin the land, and then we have to accept: someone cleverer than us will take our place. In a cloud, without a word. Gaia is always right, in the end.

Dance #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

dance

 

“Those stones don’t belong to our time, they exist here only in our minds…”

I hear the words, I see the mist, I wish I could go back.

“You don’t need to, just wait for this veil to be lifted in the sunshine, then you will see, the true spirits dancing, alive.”

But I know that the circle of stones is there, has been for millennia. Once upon a time, maybe, the spirits inhabited this land, and what I see now is the proof that they left, leaving us wondering, at a loss, longing for their magic world.

Lambent

Thursday photo prompt

dusk

 

We will live another sunset, another night, another dawn. The world is old, but we are still young, and we are learning, to deserve this world, to protect our children, to fight greed and its evils. The beauty around us will teach us respect, for Earth and her Creator.

At long last, then, we may be admitted, among the other creatures who share Earth with us, forever and ever.

Presence #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

stones-old

 

They stand, silent, immobile, or so it seems. It looks as if time never flows, as if, for them, there is no beginning, and no end.

But there is. Their role is to bear witness. So they listen, observe, remember. One day, perhaps far into our future, even past us, even after we have gone, they will report, on this evolutionary incident.

They are Gaia’s sentinels.

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