The people carried their Virgen in solemn procession through the isolated mountain village, the priest celebrated Mass, and then it was fiesta time. An enthusiastic band played, smiling adults wove the formal sequences of centuries-old dances, and joyful children shrieked and played.
Later, Consuela presided over vast pans of paella, Jorge distributed liberal quantities of vino, and the mayor lit fireworks. They partied feverishly until moonrise, when suddenly there was nothing but silence.
The solitary hiker hoping for beer and tapas found only ghost-haunted streets, a pan rusted to holes, and bunting draped like icicles over a frozen plaza.
This second picture is the photo prompt from Rochelle's blog -http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
where you will find a link to more 100-word stories