Who knew what the old standing stones remembered. I ran my hand along their rough cut, damp moss covered surface as I walked around each one. Did they remember where they came from? Who brought them here and what worship they became a part of?
I pressed my hot, tear stained face to the biggest of the stones. It was a much taller and narrower then the others that made up the wide circle. Perhaps it was the oldest too? Only the stones knew that answer. Breathing deep of the earthy scent and I liked the cold against my skin.
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About Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye
, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France,
exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent
. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs.
Follow her at scvincent.com
and on Twitter @SCVincent
. Find her books on Goodreads
and follow her on Amazon
worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: email@example.com.
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