The fog rolled ‘cross the lowlands, a smothering damp and languid chill, dense with dread — ominous and threatening. Twilight having receded, moonlight labored hard, shouldering its way through the thickening shroud.
The gnarled shape of leaf-dead trees, with their spindly spiked branches, thrust skyward, knobbed and twisted. Their trunks bending and swaying threateningly.
Muffled deep within the gloom of the grove, a throbbing drone of seeming voices rose in dark entangled chant. A menacing disembodied presence spoke, “this night you will experience memories of glory, memories of wealth and memories of conquests, lustful memories of sensuous willing lovers, and memories of powerful magic, conjured by deft hands.”
“But these memories were left here with the trees, forever concealed by your ancestors. You may desire to possess these seductive memories, but any such wish will drive you mad. Understand, these memories can never be yours!”
rob kistner © 2019
Oh… I fear that we can never get back what we had.. maybe the trees are vengeful for what we have done to the forests
Nature will have its retaliation Björn. Future generations will suffer for our careless disregard.
Thank you for this interesting take on the prompt, Rob. It’s like a cautionary tale folded into a horror legend! The driving mad part makes me think of Casandra, giving prophecies that no one believes.
Thank you Merril.
This leaves me feeling helpless, tenuous, mourning a memory I never will know. Good job!
Thank you Mary.