In a tunnel beneath the earth’s surface, I stare at the painting on the stone wall.
How could this be?
It’s the same as from my dreams.
Rounding a corner, I spy another.
What could this mean?
I walk on from there, one painting to another.
Others follow. The mystery drives us upward.
I grew up underground. My parents told me of “the surface.” The green fields turned brown. The blackened waterways, polluted skies, and hazardous air. The tipping point was predicted. Few believed. The leaders of my clan prepared. They brought us underground to live in caves and bunkers. “The event” occurred and billions died. My clan survived.
Reaching the top, we are momentarily blinded by a bright light. The main entrance is shattered.
The sight outside the caves brings me to my knees. Hovering inches from the ground is a floating ship. It’s the same as the paintings on the walls.
Ethereal beings onboard beckon us to come.
We sail through the air. The land is green and lush. Waterways are a translucent blue-green. The air is crystal clear. The earth has been reborn.
We are given a chance to begin anew.
Will we be better this time?
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge, hosted by Al Forbes, to write a story using 200 words inspired by a photo prompt. This week’s prompt was provided by Jules Paige.
Click on this link to enter your story or to see what others have written.
Blessed 2018 to all!