Mists #writephoto

Mists

fog

 

The ground was frozen, and as he looked up at the pale disc of their star, recognising the landscape in the mists, inhaling the air, he remembered the desert, the infinite sand, the temples in the dunes. He was back. After all these years. Who would recognise him now? He had been a young man then, almost a boy still, who liked to play in those fields, who enjoyed feeling his growing strength, his supple body… He remembered their departure, the colours of the flags, the hymns, the long line of young men, just like him. He remembered her face, the laughter, the cries, the prayers – the wind in her hair.

He remembered the sand, rivers of blood flowing in the sand, the scorching heat of the day, the frozen nights… So many dreams scattered to the desert winds. Now, he was alone, perhaps the only one to have come back.

But who was left who would recognise this ghost, lost in the mists?

 

#FiveSentenceFiction: Sunshine

Water scorpion by B.O.K.E. I love sand: I crawl around the dunes, from time to time coming up to the surface, looking for preys.

The birds know about me, and keep well away, of course, for I am no flyer, the others, well, good luck to them, I am so fast.

Mostly, I keep still, basking in the warmth of the sand, and at night, dug in deep below the surface (some of you know how cold it gets at night in the desert…)

Humans are funny, they mess around in their big boots, oblivious of life teeming around them, moronic bulls in the middle of marvels of nature.

Take me, for example, how could they ignore a three foot deadly scorpion not even well camouflaged, in ambush in the sunshine?