(Pictured another activity organized for young archaeologists.)
The primary school took the children aged around seven years to a Kirkhaugh burial mound for an exciting adventure, which came true when they saw a glint of gold in the soil alongside three flint arrowheads and a jet button. When an adult told them the ornament was gold they danced for joy.
Once analyzed by specialists, the head tress should be reunited with the one found in 1935 which is housed at the Great North Museum in Newcastle.
And now, let's slip forward into the future. Here's an excerpt from the final dystopian novel in the Higher Ground series, Long Doom Calling. One click takes you to Amazon to view the books, co-written with my wonderful friend, Edith Parzefall. In all the stories, the young travelers come across strange buried objects.
Trevly suppressed a chuckle. “Maybe we've reached the end of our journey. This settlement sure looks doomed.”
“And for quite a long time.” Aron laughed, but didn't sound amused. “We'll find out, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Sasha said. “Doesn't make sense to travel around when this could be Long Doom.” She flashed a smile at Trevly. “Maybe I'll finally get my treasure.”
Cerridwen's hands rested on his stomach. When she leaned against him, blood sang through his veins and he knew more than ever they belonged together. No matter what. If he could never be with her the way man and woman should, he'd stay by her side anyway. Pain rippled through him. Even if she took another man as her husk band. He could hardly expect her to die a virgin, never to taste the bliss of life making.
“What is this place?” Cerridwen leaned into him and straightened, straining to see over his shoulder. With her firm breasts pressed against his back, Trevly struggled through her lure to concentrate on the scene ahead. “Hold on.” He swung his leg over the horse's head and slid to the ground.
He squatted to touch the cracked grey surface interspersed with growth. “Dead but warm. Hard and rough. You remain on your horses and I'll check the place out.”
“With your hearing,” Hugo called, “you'll pick up any threat.”
Unsure, Trevly strode on. Long buildings with sharp jutting corners stood to both sides of the wide path. He stopped close to a hip-high barrel and bounced his toe off the vessel. With frantic squeaks, several rats scurried out. Why hadn't he detected them? Inside, a cat's rotting carcass reeked with the smell of death. Strange.
His silent friends followed on horseback.
He strode to a brownish-red metal construction on iron wheels with its roof reaching up to his chest. Leaning down, he peered inside, avoiding the shards of glass that poked from the edges of the window frame. Two seat-like contraptions made of metal wiring faced the front opening, and a long bench stretched across the back. On the opposite side, soil had blown in and now grass and flowers grew in the protected space. Trevly glanced back.
“It's a car," Cerridwen called, "I've seen them move in my dreams.”
She must have seen such things in her visions for a purpose. Trevly gazed up at her face, bright with excitement. He said, “We must be near our destination. I hope your dreams will guide us.”
There's something fascinating about unearthing something from the past. I once dug up a blue cut stone in the back garden. Thinking it might be a sapphire, it turned out to be cut glass. I pondered for a moment and then decided it had come from a ring worn by a child who used to live in the property. I didn't bother recording such an unimportant object although I kept it in my jewel box for a few years. I wonder if it's still there?
The Earth preserves treasures from the past. What have you found?