Volcanic Peeks
J.D. Daniels


 Amber bends at the waist and gulps.  “It’s not like this hill is steep.  I’m out of shape.”

“Tell me about it,” Kima says.  “Wow!  Look at those fairy chimneys.  Talk about over the top otherworldly!”

As Amber straightens, a startled look flashes over her face.  “I’ve been here before.”

Kima grimaces.  “You have not!  This is our first time in Turkey.”

“No.  What I mean is…I’ve been here before.”

Kima settles on a boulder.  “You mean like in a past life?”

Smiling, Amber folds her lean body onto the rock beside her friend.  “Yeah.”

Kima sniffs.  “I’d keep that to yourself, if I were you.”  She pulls out her travel book.

Amber chuckles.  “You mean, like one’s place in 1989 needs to be a rational place?”

“You don’t want others to think you’re ditsy, do you?”

“Do you really think I care what others think?”  Kima closes her eyes, lifting her chin toward the azure sky.

Kima shrugs and begins to read out loud.  “Many of the underground cities in the area were used by early Christians as hiding places before they became an accepted religion.”

“I see myself wearing a long flowing gown.”

“There’s also lots of monasteries and churches carved in the volcanic, soft material.”

“I’m walking among a group of people, reading to them.”

“Let’s see, red sandstone.  Tuff-coned landscape.”

“And, poof!”  Amber snaps her fingers.  “Like that, the man of my dreams appears.”

Behind them, a twig breaks.


First published: May, 2010
comments to the writer: doorknobsandbodypaint@gmail.com