Friday Fictioneers: The Watching

PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson


 

We called it the Monastery.

It hung over the low field, a precipitous slope of scrubby saplings shadowing the churned cattle way.

We’d pass below the sickly trees, tuck-tucking at Gideon the bull, calming his twitching flank with soft palms.

Something about the broken-tooth ruins made it impossible not to look, impossible to keep looking.

A glimpse of the carvings told me no holy man ever passed there – grinning, malformed beasts, grotesque imps twisted into impossible acts … My memory blanks the worst.

Some wise soul destroyed that place. Still its evil spirit survived to watch us all.

 


This ghost story flash fiction was written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. Be inspired, share, read and comment. See here to do all that.

 

 

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