(I'm thinking about making this a short story. What do you think? Should I go for it? ;~)
by Donna L Martin
Why me? I was just someone who stopped by every month for the past five years to deliver his medicine. But it was this last visit when he decided to show me the tattered map. I could tell he didn't have much time left. Muttering, sometimes incoherently, old man Barner told me the tale of the Vespars. An ancient tribe who used to live in these woods and guarded the magic they found there. I had a hard time believing what the old man was saying. But when he became agitated at the thought of this mysterious box being discovered by just anyone walking through the woods, I promised I would recover it.
Dried leaves crunched beneath my shoes and sunlight filtered through the tightly woven trees as I counted out the paces until I came across the large bolder shown on the map. Barner said the box was three feet down and the smell of rotting vegetation filled my nostrils as my shovel bit into the dirt. I wasn't even sure why I was here. It's not like I believed the old man's story. It's not like I believed in ancient tribes and magic. And then all I could hear was the sound of the shovel hitting something hard. Could old man Barner be telling the truth?
***Okay, it's your turn! What's in the box? Are the Vespars real? Have they returned? Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***