|PHOTO PROMPT © Erin Leary|
Distant rumbles leave her perturbed. Is it thunder or guns? One can never tell these days. Chilly gusts of wind swoop in as she draws her shawl closer round her shoulders.
The lake’s shoreline lies under a cover of lotus flowers, water lilies and water chestnuts. In summer it transforms into a floating vegetable garden. In happier times the houseboats would be full of tourists, now only the brave venture here.
She watches the predatory grey herons wade into the water, for them the paradise still lives on. Hers died the day her son stepped on the land mine.
***Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100
I confess the picture had me stumped. The obvious route was to have a dead body or two and submerged under the lilies. That and bad time management in setting time aside to write makes this probably the last entry. Yes the story is darker but a tiny reflection of our troubled world. One day peace will return and it will be paradise regained.