The tour guide stood just to the side of the carving. She smiled the smile that had gotten her hired and waited for the group to stop murmuring.
“This carving,” she said, “was made at least six hundred years ago. Nobody really knows what it was supposed to represent–”
A woman in the back made a huffing sound.
“But,” the guide continued, “we have several educated guesses…”
“Guesses?” The woman stepped forward, her battered coat trailing along the ground. “Why not simply ask someone who was there?”
The guide smiled. “Six hundred years ago?”
“Mayflies,” the woman muttered. “You’re like mayflies. Illiterate mayflies who can’t recognize a simple message.”
“And what message is that?”
The woman was silent, looking into the strange, elongated figure. The guide looked with her and thought, just for a moment, that the figure seemed to move.
“Run. The message is run.”
Word Count: 146
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and any1mark66 for providing the prompt photo!