Prompt: Salt, a world that has no colors in it, a mythical, fictional, or historic location
I recall beautiful and vibrant colors, rich reds, golds, blues, and greens. The world had a different sort of depth then- a captivating texture full of subtle hues and shadows, highlights and tones. But that was before- before the loss, before the closing of eyes, before the salt.
Muted. The world is muted now. Vibrancy replaced by a two-tone gradient, merely a scale of absence and complete darkness. Gone are the melodies of fire, the hymns of blue skies, the waltzes of trees. The world has dimmed for a time. One more breath left untouched. One last catch of light on an ocean of blue unspoken. Atlantis sleeps.
An age passes in deathly slumber. Finally, a glimpse of light- a thin, ghostly finger of renewal- breaks through. A gaussian hint of color caresses the soft waves and teases a reflective sunrise with a kiss. The world awakens to a long lost contrast of birds. A dove flies overhead in a song of vineyards thriving. It is time to rebuild, one ray of color at a time, dusting off remnants of salt along the way.
This prompt comes from Love in Ink’s “A Year of Creative Writing Prompts”
Today’s post is in honor of lost loved ones and the blessing of the healing powers of faith and time.