The light on the hill is there again tonight. Quite unlike that which emanates from the ribbons and necklaces of beams from houses and settlements below our little house on the hill. This is an eerie glow which appears like a small aurora borealis, glowing from behind the far hillside across the valley.
To the West, in the bay, sits a ship, unlit, ghostlike, a forgotten edifice. In this place boats constantly come and go but there it remained, looming between the horizon and the bay, still and lifeless, as it had for the past four weeks.
Down in the valley, amongst the sounds of cicadas and birds, the chug of the gravedigging machine filled the air. Finally it fell silent, then faded away into the burnt-out fields left over from the fires of summer. The citrus and olive groves that survived were already harvested, bringing some trade to the struggling village olive presses.
We heard the news that night, the lovely village priest had died suddenly.
The haze over the sea obliterated the dark silhouette of the ship today but as the haze lifted we could see the ship had drawn closer to the harbour. There was no birdsong or sounds save the slow peel of the church bell, heralding the interment of the priest.
Then, suddenly and without explanation, the light from the hill disappeared and everything appeared normal, except for the stillness in the air.
End of Part 1
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment