A night so beautiful, the wind sings of it beauty as the moon light the path of three dark clothed figures, they walked silently through the dark forest, not a creature was insight, it was as if they sense the darkness that has nothing to do with the night, not even the crickets and night crawlers made an appearance
"Almost there" said one of the figures as the other shone his touch ahead. Their cloak sweeping the forest floor. A scrunching sound is heard loud in the silent night as their feets meet the fallen leaves.
"Do you think it will work?" Asked the female among them. She had always been the skeptical one, never the voice of reason.
"Of course. Now hush" said the man with the touch.
"We are here" the older one announced as he removed the hood of his cloak. His dark hair simmering under the moon light. The others removed their hood as well.
"It's quite deep" said the female. her red waist length hair held up in a ponytail
"Of course it's deep" said the one with the touch dropping it into the deep well in front of them. They stood silently waiting to hear the burning wood hit the bottom.
"It's strange no one has happened upon a well in the middle of the woods" said the red head as she looked at the old stone well.
"you forget where we are" retorted the other
The well shimmer under the moonlight, a cycle of stone circling a deep bottomless pit, it stood magnificent in the middle of the forest, a lone manmade structure surrounded by nature.
"No time to waste, we must get on with it" the man with the dark mop of hair said as he brought out a knife. He stretch forth his hand above the well, with great determination he dragged the knife across his palm, digging deep into his flesh. The others brought out their knife and did the same. They waited as their blood fell in little drop into the stone well.
After five minutes of waiting for something to happen the red head felt frustrated "what if it doesn't work?"
"Shut up Red".
Red frowned as a gush of wind brushed through her hair, the wind came back swirling around them. they could hear the whispers of the trees, the silent ominous night with nothing but more shadows hiding in the shadows. a pitch black darkness surrounded them, the moon struggled in vain to give light to what's beneath the cloud. the wind heathens it effects like a tornado in an hurricane.
"Brace yourself" smiled the dark haired man. "It's happening"
YOU ARE READING
A TALE OF A THOUSAND YEARS
FantasíaHate: intense dislike. Love: an intense feeling of deep affection. The key word here is "intense" A thousand years is a very long time to hate someone, after awhile the emotions begins to fade, all that is left is a seething rage. For Arthur, a thou...
