Memory #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

memory

 

Now is the time. We must face the test, and tell the Truth. The Truth we remember.

Then it’s out of our hands. We must pray our memory does not fail us.

We will stand between the boulders, small creatures we are, bowed in awe. The Ancient may look down on us, or not. We will not know.

For, if we pass, we’ll only know the other side. If we fail it will be the end. To dust and to ashes.

Storm #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

storm

 

It’s lonely up here, one doesn’t meet humans too often, mostly the locals are ravens and rabbits and moles, and the occasional eagle. But I like it, this is my place, where I dream, and remember. There are sweet memories, and also dark and stormy ones.

Yes, there is a storm coming this way now. I love it, the low clouds, a drop of rain here and there, I can feel the strong winds already, snaking through my empty eye sockets, resonating in my skull. “The Old One”, used to call me the villagers, when there was still a village nearby, long ago.

Nowadays the Old One merely enjoys the peace, and the storm.

Offering #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

offering

 

Time has now come. I expect her, I have long expected her, and, now, I know she’s there, close to the gates. She bears the chalice. From it, I will drink, to the last drop.

And so, the prophecy will be fulfilled, the order restored, the gods appeased.

Do I regret anything? I had a long life, known many winters, and so many springs: so much ice, so much sand, I hear the sound of bells.

She’s there, at my door, they tell me.

I know she’s beautiful, their messengers always are. I take a last look, out of the window of my room, at the far away hills, just touched by moonlight.

So many seas, so many mountains.

Time has come.

 

Light #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

snowy-dawn-ivinhoe-and-ashridge-111

 

In this blinding light, on such a bright morning, I seek your smile, a sign, even a shard of memory.

Where are you, in this, or another world?

Do the rays of our star still caress your skin?

Or are you now so far beyond, perhaps on an alien shore, watching another sun rise?

I have lost your trace, your scent, the feeling of your existence.

Night will come.

Balefire #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

balefire

 

“Is it a signal?” she said softly, “or is it for us?” It is both, I thought in silence, this is to warn, and prepare. I took my friend’s hand and we walked away. We knew we were not wanted. The warning was clear. Everywhere we would go in the country, it would be the same, and one evening…

None of us was amnesiac. We knew full well how it would end. There was a long tradition. From time to time we would lit a bonfire, but most of the time the fires were lit to burn us. Us, witches.

 

Calling #writephoto #Writerswednesday

Thursday photo prompt

p1060149

 

Through the snow, through the pixelated mist of our lives, I see him. Writing about him – only the antlers prevent me to say “her” – is another story: precisely.

Inspiration is like this vision, looking back at us, shrouded in doubt, shying away from the obvious, a myth. The stag will soon disappear, absorbed by the shadows, by the blank page. Alone, the white flakes of memory will, briefly, lit our darkness.

 

Copper #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

copper

 

It is not so far, where we met for the first time, when we were incredibly young, and so ignorant.

Not so far in distance from here, but in time, we dare not say. We know, much have changed around us, everywhere.

Except us.

Wiser we are, and so much stronger.

We’ve lost tracks of all those years, for we live for the present: ghosts we might be, but the happy sort,

as we have each other, for evermore.

 

Frozen #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

frozen

 

“I know where we are, we walked this path many times. Was it yesterday? It was summer still, and yet you see: today the ground is hard frozen, how can this be? ”

“My love, you are confused. We’ve travelled a long time, this place is not that you recognise, we are far away from home, a long way away from summer…”

“What are you telling me? Are we lost? How can we be now in winter?”

“We have to rest. You see, we have what it takes to survive, this far North, and we must keep warm.”

Journey #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

journey-sue-vincent

 

“Insane”, did you say? Yes, I agree, who wants to wander, alone, half naked, in this desolate landscape, other than a madman? But I am on a journey, probably a long journey. “Where are you going?” could you ask, but you won’t.

I want to find them all, all the ghosts, the people I met, once, some I knew, others I loved. There are others too, whose names I never knew, but somehow I can remember. They are all long gone, and I want to find them, to see them a last time. I am sure they are still around, and, perhaps like me, they are wandering, looking. It’s a natural thing to wish, I think, to retrace our steps, to try and meet the long gone shadows of other beings who crossed our lives.

“But”, I hear you argue: “who cares, and why?”

Why should I care? Because life is short, because there are now so few of us still alive, still thinking. There are witnesses, of course, trees, rocks, animals… Sadly we have lost the art of talking with them.

So it is, and I go, keep going, on this journey, until I too disappear in a little cloud.