Red Slave Obelisk

This is what I wrote last night. I'm determined to get back in the habit. Once my fingers thaw out, that is.

Like a finger pointing the way, the red obelisk stands sentinel over a deserted stretch of shoreline. No longer is it used by mariners as an aid to navigating in to pick up cargo. Now it stands as an oddity, a curiosity poked and examined by sunburnt tourists who lean against it, or embrace it with a lascivious look on their foolish faces, or pose beside it looking stiff and uncomfortable to have their picture taken. How many albums hold photos of the red obelisk? How many people remember the story of the hardships it represents?

Rather pathetic, I think, but slightly better than no writing at all. Yesterday was sign up day for the 2008 Clearing classes. That and these sunny days are real spirit lifters.

--Barbara