The festival- colored brightness of the sun is no match for the distinctive dullness in my eyes. When will I find the place my ancestors spoke about, they said as they turned the corner around the mountain they found peace. I am fairly tired--bored beyond endurance --with the world I live in today. I’ve been searching forever for the mountain and never have found it. Harsh wind has not only dried my skin, but also my heart. Every rock I turn shatters, as does my soul, and every steep I take leads me closer to misery.
Until now. The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for 200 years; I’m alive ounce more.
By Chavawn
A great entry in this week's 100WC. You have thought carefully about the prompt and your ideas are effective in creating a tense mood and atmosphere. Keep up the hard work.
ReplyDeleteMrs N goulbourne. Team 100, Liverpool, UK