volcano speaks

I made a hasty attempt at this wee Friday writing challence – of course with the theme being volcanoes I have added a tiny geological twist. It is heavily influenced by my first memories of being in a volcanic landscape (Vulcano, Sicily).

Here’s the original article:  http://my.telegraph.co.uk/theshortstoryclub/louiseatmyt/645/friday-challenge-the-volcano/

volcano speaks.

There’s a stratocone up ahead, swaddled in ash. There’s streets of puffed cumulus above. It’s hot but that’s offset by the fierce sporadic wind. You would imagine you’d be thinking ‘Isn’t my life strange?’ or ‘How amazing is it that I’m here?’ – but you’re not.

Emptiness of this kind doesn’t bring self-reflection, and you know this all too late, because it’s pulsing with another energy, an energy that at first seems alien but after a while its vivid colours start to seep into your own and you realise it is in fact a very, very ancient part of yourself.

A lava bomb riddled with holes – there’s a scientific word for that. The red, soft, rusted earth – there’s a scientific word for that, too. But at that moment the specifics fail you and you do nothing but sink into the picture. You’re not really aware of it and you won’t even realise it afterwards, forever describing it to people as an experience of otherness. What really happens is you become a part of it, and at the precise moment the earth opens out to you what you are really thinking is ‘How can there be so much to all this?’

The photo comes out bland; you wonder how you will convince people how alive this emptiness is.

 

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