Category Nature

Luft

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They burned books in the hallways. I could smell it, the pain, the anger, the protest as the words scurried out of the open windows, sucked out into the great, black yonder by the treacherous summer wind.

I had expected more of Nature. After all, She had suffered enough over the millennia, as Man chewed Her up and spat Her out. But no, here She was, aiding the destroyers of the only beautiful thing that we had managed to create without destroying Her.

But. Maybe that was the point.

Helping Man wreak his own destruction.

Checkmate.

 

Blackout – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 32 Comments

image50

Mother Earth’s daughter slept the sleep of the innocent, the blessed, the naive.

While she slept, war waged.

Her mother fought battle upon battle. fire with fire, flood with flood, she hurled everything in her arsenal at those who underestimated her.

And yet, forlornly, they had one thing at their disposal that Mother Earth did not, and in the end, it was this that brought darkness to the world and ensured that her daughter’s sleep would never, ever end.

Ignorance – it was this that killed us all.

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Here’s this week’s entry into Magpie Tales. Please visit here for more creativity, and why not take part, if you feel the urge!

Anchor – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 20 Comments

stainforth Shetland 2014 Yell Sound

Yell Sound, Shetland, 2014, by R.A.D. Stainforth

I am finding it hard to watch. My ship is pulling away, not from the shore, but from its sister ship pitching and yawing as it heads out of the mouth of the bay and into the open sea.

There is no protection out there, no place to hide from either the gale force winds, or the waves as high and hard as mountains. The battering will be relentless.

I turn away, feeling a rush of betrayal. My betrayal of him as I turn my back, and his betrayal of me as he has once again refused my pleas to stop, to stay on board with me in the safety of the harbour.

It is complex, our relationship. Built on shaky foundations – built on none at all, some would say, those who are sticklers for truth, those who are pedants. Ships do not have foundations. Only hollow hulls.

I whip round, face out to sea once more. I lift the binoculars, blinking as the ship fills my vision. A solitary figure is standing on the deck, binoculars trained on me.

I wave.

He waves in return.

I wait for his return. There is nothing else that I can do.

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Here is my latest entry into Magpie Tales – please do pop over there for more writerly goodness!