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.
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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
