It's Still Life

Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Part 4

Stonehenge: Latitude: 51.1789° N, Longitude: -1.8278° W

The gods decided to send a storm … but they weren’t just talking about it – they were bloody screaming, and the clouds were black as the brows of doom.

Nick shouts over the wind, “… storm’s coming!” and I pull the collar of my coat up noire-French-style, hiding half of my face like a secret, as Hünga turns his head away from the wind, shaking the rain off his slick black coat.

“I have an admission to make,” Nick says, “I fucking love a rip-open-the-sky storm,” and with a loose flick of his wrist he sets his cane twirling (Chaplin-style) in a display of balance and rhythm.

The wind shrieks between the stones as if machine-honed to orchestrate a millennia of sunrises that mark the passing of time – a long hanging-on until time’s sails unravel and the mast is scuppered with its hull.

“… memories are shipwrecks waiting to resurface,” Nick’s voice is the depth of ancient earth … and he strides for the Saracen stone as if greeting an old friend, but the grey-as-cold stones keep themselves to themselves; they are venerable as grey wolves; watching; aloof.

Nick’s conscious of a thousand airborne scents, each one connected with a thousand thoughts of lives long forgotten, and I turn to Nick, “Sorry, what about shipwrecks?” and the clouds rumble through the wind as I comfort Hünga who hates thunder the way I hate liver.

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story using prompt words from the past 3 weeks. ( Machine and  Style  and  Admission ) Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.