This is my response to the photo prompt for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. You can find the original here.
Word Count: 149
The Old Stones
Two weathered stones, older than memory, stood resolute in a field of bright green. No one knew why they had been put there or what their purpose was. They simply were.
One day a wealthy lord who set out to build his fortress in that field.
“Get those rocks out,” he ordered his men. “We can break them down and use them for the walls.”
Though the lord was a fearsome man, no one would obey him. As much as they were afraid of him, they feared the ancient stones more.
“Fine, then!” he said. “I’ll do it myself!”
The moment he laid a finger on the first stone, the earth quaked beneath his feet and the sky grew dark. He didn’t stop, grappling with the mighty rock.
Lightning arced down from the heavens, striking him like a spear to the heart.
No one ever touched the stones again.