Weekly Writing Challenge #127
She answered his wish, his urge to spend another year in the City, among the ghosts, in the parks, on the banks of the river: yet he knew she would soon crave the sight of another river, the high cliff, her sister the Mermaid. At night he would listen to the sailor’s scream for the fatal beauty.
As his dream faded, hers would radiate the green colours of the Rhine.
Prompt, April 20
“There are no ghosts here,” the old man said, as a matter of fact. “You will find a few old stones, but nothing worth spending much time. They rebuilt the city as they pleased: no reference to its past, its soul, its heroes…”
We took a few more steps through the nondescript city center, we could have been anywhere in a dozen European cities. “But have a look at the river bank,” my companion continued, “I won’t walk with you, but it’s the only place deserving your time…”
The river was twenty minutes away. All along the water luxury mansions faced the tree-lined alley. Gone were the cheap take-aways and the congested streets. Here was real wealth, and good taste. People here did not bother about the fate of other parts of the city: they had bigger fish to fry.
Then I looked at the record of flooding, on the wall of an old tower, standing there, as a warning…