This is my contribution for the Your Photo Story prompt this week.
Michael offered a silent prayer while looking out over the valley below. The viewing platform was high enough for him to see across the entire town resting in the nook between mountains.
He saw the power plant nestled in the middle of everything; the town sprawled out around it. “If only you had not supplied power to our enemies,” he cried.
Taking the cap off the canister clinched in his hands, he sighed deeply, before pouring the powdery contents into the wind. Watching the cloud of death sink over the homes below, tears sliding down his cheeks, Michael stepped onto the railing of the platform.
Closing his eyes tightly, Michael whispered, “I’m sorry,” before leaping.