Not long ago, a group of scouts ignored the prime directive and damaged one of the non-carbon based life forms. The results went viral. We were investigating. Goblin Valley.
M class. The air was still. Breathable. Quiet. The terrain was foreign. Alien. Forbidding. Frozen figures watched, waited. Goblins.
Would they come to life? Would they reap havoc in the night? Best to visit in the light.
I can not say if a captured image contains a portion of the subject’s soul. The rocks must answer the query when sentience returns. Or perhaps sentience remains and only mobility has been taken. I could not tell. The figures were staring, watching. The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Chills. I was moving too fast. I perceived that age had slowed their movement, but not their purpose. Perhaps if I was careful, reverent, I could take with me their spirit and they would not bear witness of my own destructiveness. For, it would seem, that with more visibility, their demise is assured.
They're Calling To Me 
Jim, Goblin Valley is one of my favorite places and you captured it well in both photos and verse. The only thing is I wish I had written what you did. Love it, my friend.
Thanks, Ron.
Absolutely stunning! What a story they could tell
Thanks, Felicity.