The world had changed.
Many times over, the world had changed.
Stretching, grasping. Almost within reach.
Stone moves, given enough time.
He should never have approached the old woman’s standing stones. The legends gave warning enough – he thought of them as the tales of frightened peasants.
He should never have reached out to pull her blackening bread from the fire, even if he was only trying to help.
“Stone moves, given enough time.” She had whispered in his ear as his feet petrified beneath him, calcifying, immobile.
The world had changed, but stone will move, given enough time.
Written for this weekend’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. And exactly 100 words!
Comments and criticism always welcome!