After the soil is split by lava, dark and heavy with burning earth, they will come. After the sky is darkened by plumes of ash and smoke, choking the air and blocking out the sun, they will come. After the oceans spill over their shores to carry waves far and wide before freezing into sheets ice, jagged and broken by the wind, they will come. After all is lost, forgotten amidst the chaos and passing of ages, they will come.
Hope remains always, of course, and they carry it like a torch when they come. The fixers, the survivors, the ones who refused to bow to the ravages of nature, they will rise from the frozen tundra of dust and ash and rebuild. It will not be what it had been before, but that doesn’t trouble their thoughts at all. There is no time for nostalgia. There is only work, the joy of creation, and the thrill of life. Sometimes it is harsh and ugly but it is always magical.
25 thoughts on “they will come”
Let’s just hope they don’t have to come too soon.
Agreed. I wouldn’t want to see things get to that point here.
This sounds like a bleak kids story – one mine would love, incidentally. Put this to pictures and flesh it out, and you’d have something fearsome and wonderful, I think. I want to see what work, the magical stuff, these people have come to do.
Pictures and more words? Who do you think I am?!? A writer or something? How nefarious.
You, my friend, ARE a writer. If you’ll forgive the conceit and the horrible way this will sound, but you are more than a blogger.
I appreciate the compliment, and understand the distinction. I’ll say ditto for you, as well.
Appreciate that. I think I’m a real shit blogger. I don’t understand the mechanics or the point, but everyone’s different, right? As long as we’re happy doing what we’re doing.
Happy is an interesting word. I like the writing bit, and the conversations that follow, but sometimes there is an emptiness that follows that is anything but happy.
I know that emptiness – I drown it with scotch. Probably not the healthiest thing. Actually, also with writing, which is probably better.
I could go for a nice 18 year old single malt. Hmm. I wonder what I have on hand…
Pack up the family, jump in the car and come over. I’ve got plenty on hand. And you’re welcome anytime.
Yes, they will come….and the cycle will begin again. Human nature. I like how your stories have the element of Hope. Life could not exist without Hope.
It didn’t feel right until I added the hopeful lines. I guess that makes sense.
You painted the picture of hope very nicely with this bleak yet hopeful short story.
Hope and despair… oh yeah
The best of everything?
the dichotomy of everything
as was yours…
I like the optimism at the end.
This piece brings out your rhythm more distinctly…write more. 🙂
I will, thank you!
“Sometimes it is harsh and ugly but it is always magical.”
❤ this… and the hope part. Hope is essential.