We stood on the edge of Forever and looked over the precipice at what used to be our home. It now sat alone, disengaged, unconnected from the community. We could find only the house and its stairs; there was nothing left of our village. Before the eruption, we were humble fisherpeople who loved living off the sea; in the end, the sea held us captive. No one survived. But oh, how we longed for our home! It still looked beautiful, majestic, indestructable despite its brokenness. But we knew differently. We turned back to Forever and tried to forget the past.
One hundred words offered for the wonderful image for this week’s Friday Fictioneers; it comes from Tales from the Motherland–click the image to visit her site, which is fabulous!
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