Whitney Writes…

The golden light washed across the landscape. It brought warmth and a vibrancy to the color of the people gathered. Yet, it froze their very blood in their veins. The dark forest in the distance was highlighted in gold, resulting in individual trees standing out against one another. The surrounding mountains of their little valley were awash in a new, bright light. That very light reflecting off the ice-covered mountain peaks. There were fewer of them these days. The air was getting warmer, bordering on uncomfortable. The small gathering of people looked up to watch the large ball of fire travel across the bright sky.

It was getting closer, ever closer. The Wise Woman of the tribe said one day soon, it would collide with them. No one wanted to believe her, but they also could not deny how it grew larger in the sky above. How it grew warmer. How there were less ice-covered mountains. And now instead of leaving a pale gold tail in it’s wake, the ball of fire left a river of molten red flame trailing for miles behind it. They wondered if the flames would catch their tail before it caught them.

The fireball passed over the distant mountains. They were safe, for today. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.

Inktober 2023, Prompt #6: GOLDEN