Jarrod, the conservator, stood before the blackened earth.
Facing the crowd, he explained, “The oil lamp slipped from Elizabeth’s hand. The family home burned down around her. No one knows exactly what happened that night.”
“Why did the villagers burn their homes?” asked a young man.
“I believe from solidarity,” Jarrod asserted.
A woman with cold eyes spoke in hushed tones, “I heard the graves opened that night. The dead walked among the villagers, whispering words of chaos and destruction.”
The woman whispered in his ear. Jarrod turned and walked into the lake.
He could not swim.
Watching old ghost stories last week (Marchlands, The Secret of Crickley Hall) certainly influenced my story this week. It would seem this story is a far stretch from the attractive photo, provided by Nick Allen, but that’s what makes this challenge fun. Hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, we are encouraged to stretch our imaginations, let our muse guide us in creating a story using only 100 words based on a photo prompt.
If you would like to join in with this encouraging group of writers or read their stories from this week, click HERE.