The sound of the water from behind the waterfall was an almost deafening roar, multiplied and refracted by the rocky surface. On the other side of the watery curtain, sunlight filtered through the trees, green and gold, and set the dust-motes in the pool alight like the flecks of gold in a piece of tiger's eye. But behind the waterfall was the best place. The roof was low, but not so low as to force a stoop, and the walls were rough, rounded, with the occasional surprise stalactites and stalagmites, and the ground was equally rough, but a steady nest of blankets and scraps had rendered a space at the back fit for human living. Just beyond the grasp of the light, where the bright brown succumbed to black shadow, someone had hewn a shelf into the wall and littered it with treasures - a piece of colored glass worn smooth by water and time, a piece of rock with the fossil of a leaf imprinted, a whistle made of bone, and an old leather-bound Bible lined with a spider-web of names printed in Cyrillic. It was a safe place to hide, and peaceful. When the roar of the waterfall faded into the background, the rest was silence.
(210 words)
1 comment:
Wow! This is fantastic. I can picture it exactly as if I was there!!!
Post a Comment