Day 83

The silhouette of the looming adobe mountain and the houses atop it served as the ghost of the night. The children and the women gazing at the monstrous shadow ran, shouted, and sighed in relief that the mountain was immovable. Still, the mountain flared and puffed smoke darker than the night and sputtered embers more real than the stars. It exhaled in a silent explosion and imploded a firework of embers. It devoured a house and oppressed a family.
(writing practice inspired by