The elders told of how the stone arrived, trailing fire and smoke, kicking up clouds of dust as it slammed into the earth. They had understood that it must be a gift from the gods, sent from the stars like a streaking arrow.
For a thousand years, it was a place of sacrifices: gold, silver, crops, bone, and blood. It liked the blood most of all.
But then the old ways died out and the star-stone was forgotten.
Alone it lay in the woods, piled high with needles and dying leaves.
If rocks dreamt, this one dreamt of blood.
Word Count: 99
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and CEAyr for providing the prompt photo!