Afar #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

afar

 

“Thus, what you are saying is that for years the government has had this beautiful valley reserved to store nuclear stuff?”

“Well, first of all, none of this is to reach the media, do you understand? This is highly sensitive material, and everything would be denied anyway…”

“Okay, but you said there were several wells drilled, in the valley and atop these hills, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we want you to understand why your proposal is not acceptable.”

“Well, what was the purpose of those wells?”

“It’s what I told you already, initially, it was to see if the ground was suitable for storing depleted uranium rods. Geologically the location seemed perfect, very old rocks, stable, no record of tremors since records began… well away from populated centres…”

“But, you said, drilling was abruptly terminated, when was this?”

“It does not matter, we just want you to understand why your plan to build that golf course is simply not on. Besides, you already know the whole valley, and those hills, are now guarded by the ministry of defence… but don’t publicise this!”

“So, what happened?”

“Let’s say that what is below this landscape, deep down, is a state secret. It’s only because of who you are that I am telling you this.”

“You must tell me more, I want, I need a reason to give this up.”

“We could simply tell you that this is a nature reserve, a site of exceptional beauty, and indeed it is, and will remain so.”

“What is it?”

“It’s classified, but I have been authorised to say this: there is a structure, down there, at a depth of about one hundred meters, and it’s protected by a dome.”

“A dome, made of what? What structure?”

“This is classified, we are still measuring and probing.”

“And how old is that thing?”

“I can’t tell you, other than it is very old, extremely old, even.”

“And you expect me to swallow this story?”

“I am sorry, Sir, but you will have to believe me, or not, but that’s it.”

“One bit of proof!”

“Yes, I was also allowed to give you this: an estimate of the size of the underground structure.”

“And?…”

“It’s about as large as ten football fields.”

“And do you know what the dome is made of?”

“It’s classified. But it’s metallic.”

Onward #writephoto

Onward

p1460213-2

 

We stop at the top of the small hill, and look down at the road meandering away from us. The bikes lie on the short grass, next to tall poles that remind us that, here, the snow can erase everything, and level the landscape, but we are too early for it. The air is cold, the pale rays of the winter sun lit the distant crags. Soon the night will fall. We set the tent not far from here, and lit a fire. Tomorrow is another day.

Between #writephoto

Between

between

 

It was a wonderful day, walking along the ancient path, through the beloved hills. Closer to the village, a helpful farmer had left the way clear, in the middle of the fields of colza. The scent of the crop was strong in the cool air. They stopped, looking at each other.

“We will remember this instant of peace,” she said slowly, “when winter is back, and the ground is frozen…”

He smiled, and took her hand. “Not that long ago, I remember climbing that hill in the snow… And it must have been with you!” They laughed.

Distant #writephoto

Distant

horizon1

 

Around them the circle of stones would be their refuge, their protectors against the demons of the night. She looked away toward the snow-covered hills:

“There will be our home. In the morning we will cross those fields, and then climb up. But tonight we will rest. The ancient warriors are there: look! They were expecting us…”

She showed him the stones, some erect, some lying, as if asleep.

He felt, somehow, reassured: they were now in her country, not so far from them, he knew, they would soon meet her tribe. He would follow the rites. He would shed his blood. Later, they would receive him in their rank.

Later still, they would have a child.