Portal #writephoto

Portal

portal

 

It was so easy: he just had to follow the narrow corridor, and, as the dwarf had said, it was there, the portal of ancient stones, and beyond, the warm glow of the vast chimney.

He stopped and looked down at the medieval floor, polished over millennia by the feet of so many pilgrims. Behind him he would be leaving his own time, the overflowing world, the menacing floods. In front of him, he knew was the vast kitchen, the monks in black robes, the penitents. He too would be on his way to the holy city, and they would recognise him for who he was, another brave and tired worshipper from the west, from the cold.

He would sit in front of the burning fire. He would pray. He would have their blessing. He would be invited at the big table, and, after grace, would enjoy the communal hot soup. He would later fall asleep, under a warm blanket, and before dawn, after mass in the small chapel, bare feet, would resume his journey, with thousands of others.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Flame

Flame

Flame We look at the sky: so soft is blue on blue on this Easter day, how beautiful your beloved face in the morning light…

A crow bomb-dives a sitting heron, ignoring her dignified look: the heron chooses flight.

Now we walk along the well troden path, patches of frost lingering in the early sunshine, you know that I am happy with the change of clock time…

As we cross the meadow we look at the horses, more crows flying by, my lens fixed on the oak tree.

You look at me and in your eyes the fire burns with the energy of this new Spring.