Week Twenty Six. The Angel Of Death.
We walked between two mountains. The only people alive, it seemed, in this cold eerie valley high up in the Swiss Alps.
As we continued towards the glacier the valley echoed with the sound of crumbling rocks and the snow crunched beneath our feet.
A speck appeared in the distance, coming closer, a man. His eyes were dark, almost black. He stopped twenty centimeters from my face.
Were are you from? he asked.
I am so happy you have made it here, so happy.
Do you come here often? I asked. He just smiled and said he was here with friends then waved his arms about his as if to motion to where his friends were. We looked around, there was no-one but the three of us.
You must go to the glacier, there is a hole and inside it it is as blue as your eyes. His eyes never left mine as he spoke.
But be careful, the rocks are falling.
Then he left.
We continued on to the end of the valley, to the glacier, our eyes searched for his friends but there was no-one insight.
We stood beneath the glacier as the sound of falling rocks grew louder.
It felt like the end of the world, and the man? We wondered, a ghost? A haunted man? Were his words just words or a warning?
Slightly scared but in awe of this huge prehistoric world we continued exploring until we found that magic pocket of blue and crawled inside. Inside to a new world escaping the Angel of death.
