PHOTO PROMPT ©Roger Bultot
Rows of elephant legs hung suspended around the plaza, shimmering in the noon-light like ghosts. In so many ways they were ghosts, vague remembrances of the creatures they had once been, ivoried by age.
Jordon stood talking to the artist. “Why would anybody want….” He motioned vaguely around, not wanting to speak the words.
“Elephants were once sacred animals. Many feel the totems bring great luck.”
“Luck? Certainly not for the elephants.”
Sighing, Jordon walked away. In only he had lived when elephants roamed the earth. That, now, would have been lucky.
As children, some of us liked magic and fantasy, more than reality. So, we became writers.
~Dr. SunWolf, professorsunwolf.com
A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author. ~G.K. Chesterton