I find smoke a familiar scent. Log fires of old. Coal of industry. That Vichy smell of oil and burning flesh.
But it’s different this time.
Made out of stone, I do not fear the flame, but I smell the salt of tears as if I were placed near the sea. Don’t cry, little people, for time is long and your lives short. I was made to protect you, to give you comfort, joy, and peace. Don’t let me haunt your dreams, for I would be better consumed by fire than drowned in the sadness I swore to stave off.
This week, I chose to do my prompt showcase on Thursday so as to make use of a Wednesday prompt! This was written for Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday, and I’m thrilled to see that I got to respond to a Parisian tragedy through this prompt.
If you want to join in on a prompt, Bikurgurl’s photo-based prompt is easy to join in on! Just leave a pingback to the post. Make sure to tag your response with 100WW or #100WW so others can find it!
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