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| PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young |
The tree in the temple compound is mutating. The villagers have noticed the changes and each day I see them gathered around whispering in huddled groups.
The stout, branch-supporting pillars take years to grow. Now each night a new snakelike, aerial root grows downward clawing its way to the ground.
The elders claim that it is the result of our sins. The unnatural growth fuelled by lust and avarice. They come to me for absolution with their panicked eyes seeking redemption.
I grant it easily but I know the truth. Each lie I utter brings forth a new twisted strand.
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Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100
To read the other writers this week click here
I am little late this week, I was on on a personal discovery this week that I blogged here
I'd love read what you think about this post...
A lovely double bind
ReplyDeleteThanks Neil
DeleteA dropped growth from above. Unique angle most generally sins would be depicted as growth from the ground like weeds. I like it.
ReplyDeleteThank you, I am glad you liked it.
DeleteI believe if your story were a metaphor it would be hauntingly apt. I imagine those roots are digging our graves. Good storytelling, Subroto.
ReplyDeleteThank you Lisa.
DeleteDear Subroto,
ReplyDeleteOooh, this one digs deep. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thanks Rochelle, so glad you liked it.
DeleteOh, the tangled webs we weave...
ReplyDeleteExactly! Thanks for reading Nobbin.
DeleteI really like this one, Subroto!
ReplyDeleteThanks Dale.
DeleteDelightfully dark and creepy, I wonder where it will all end...
ReplyDeleteWith a whole new forest I think :-)
DeleteIntriguing. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sandra.
Delete