300 Days of Writing
Day 36 Volcano:
They lived in the heat. They thrived in the magma. They were fuchsia and neon and charcoal black.
They lived in Fagradalsfjall and were finally breathing air.
With each exhale, they emitted Sulphur and gas, slowly leaking across the earth, cooling and hardening like a mother’s glare.
People watched them. Cameras sank into them. Flowers died in them.
They slunk across the surface, moving like a slug, orange and black, their crusting top fusing with the earth.
They would become the rock. They would become the land. They would give back. It was more than the ogling people could say.
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H