Rock of ages

From Japan this morning comes a reminder, in the form of a massive earthquake / tsunami, of the forces at work inside this planet Earth - and the fragility of all life on its surface, including yours and mine.

As I look out over the wind-troubled surface of Loch Ewe I see the Torridon mountains, made from some of the oldest and hardest of rock (Llewissean Gneiss) - rock that was folded up like a sheet of paper by the cooling of the planet.

Lapping the shore of Loch Ewe not fifty metres from where I sit is the salty sea - the North Atlantic in fact, which comes into the loch having swept around the Hebrides. I cannot help but wonder what it would be like to look out there and see a fifty foot wall of water approaching at a rate of knots!

I think I'll write a story about it, perhaps publish the story on-line as one of my short stories of the month. All I have to do is select a character, decide what he or she would do in the next few seconds, maybe half a minute, then decide the life or the death and the how, where, what, and why of the consequence. I've just had a thought. My character could be a God-fearing soul. Next door to us is a solidly built stone kirk, (church to those not of Scotland). Rock of ages indeed.

But as I write, the radio is conveying the extreme seriousness of this 8.9 rated 'quake. There is no fiction to equal such a devastating blow to the peole of Japan. Perhaps I'll leave my story for another year.

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