Sue’s prompt at #writephoto this week is
Paul and Pauline, twins and competitors in life looked at the fields across from their new home on Ithaca and sighed.
‘Nothing to do.’
A voice from the kitchen called, ‘If you don’t want me to find a chore for you both, I suggest you go and explore. Do not mope.’
They didn’t need any more encouragement.
The laughter followed as first Paul then Pauline led through paths and bridleways, over stiles and under gates. As the siblings hurtled round the corner, each straining to get ahead, neither saw the short drop. Both lost their footing and rolled and tumbled through the long grass before ending in a breathless tangle of arms and legs.
‘A giant Viking’s helmet?’
‘Let’s go in.’
‘I don’t know…’
Paul took the left opening, Pauline the right.
‘The floor’s all sticky.’
‘There’s branches coming out of everywhere.’
What’s that rumble?’
‘Did you feel that draught?’
Atlas began to wake from his doze. How long had he been out? Only a few eons. Something tickled his nose. He wrinkled it but he knew the sneeze was coming. Best let it go; no point trying to hold it back. Even gods can rupture. He flicked some moss away where it had grown since he’d lain down and twitched.
‘It’s a volcano!’
Paul and Pauline shot back through the air some two miles before landing in a field. They were old enough to know it would hurt when they landed but in fact they did not hit so much as sink.
‘What is it?’
They wiped their faces free of the goo and cleared their noses. The colour, the consistency and the taste told them what they needed to know. As one, they said, not hiding their disgust, ‘Snot.’