Photo © Thierry Marinault via Google Photosphere
I perched, bird-like, on the island’s rocky peak, invisible inside my cloud. Only Bracca could see through it. and only if he tried. When I saw the desolation, I dropped the illusion. If Bracca was still here, let him come.
The ruined sanctuary square had once bustled with gray-robed monks and flower-hued servants. I’d been tweaking their tenets, sliding them towards the true worship of Qazir. All gone now. Everything lost.
Bracca always claimed he smote for Qazir, but I’d seen his childish outbursts. What small sacrilege had provoked him this time?
Anger swelled my chest. Surprising, that the death of yet another hope could still affect me. I’d drifted too long, letting the decades rock me like waves.
If Bracca continued, we’d never fulfill our vow. We’d never be able to die.
I fanned the spark against my last tattered bit of optimism. I would find him, and end this.
Word count: 150. Written for this week;s What Pegman Saw challenge. Big thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting this wonderful writing prompt week after week — it’s my favorite! This week, Pegman takes us to Roscanvel, Brittany, a truly gorgeous part of France. Click on the link above to see what images the other participants found, and the stories they inspired. And as always, feel free to join in!
It’s especially fun to vicariously travel all around the world with Pegman these days, with my fellow virtual tourists in the Pegman family. Someday I’ll be able to travel in person again, hopefully to France again soon, but for now, this is a great improvement over staring at my own four walls!
And yes, this is a character I’ve mentioned before, who’s featured in a short story called The Vow that I am struggling to revise. We last saw him in Strayed Sign, searching for the one other person who could have helped him stop Bracca.