I wander the empty hall – cold stone walls throw back the echoes of my passage, whispered groans and the aches of wooden beams.
They’re knocking down the Abbey.
I remember the history of this place, as tonsured monks came across the sea in their coracles, waving the flag of Christ above the dark, dank heart of the island.
I remember the children, dressed in white and pledged to me, their beatific, drugged smiles, wearing with pride my hot-iron brand on their porcelain skin as they walked the gallows-walk to the clearing at the center of the grove.
I remember the fire-brands, the preachers’ promises as they felled the little forest that was my home and dragged heavy, chiseled stones into place. The bards would sing, long poems guarded against the ravages of history – all were forgotten.
Only I remember.
They’re knocking down the Abbey, and with it they are destroying my worshippers.
I cannot let this stand…
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers’ photo-prompt, and this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge prompt: brand.
I know it’s a little long (~50 words too long), but I hope you enjoyed it anyway…
Comments and criticism always welcome!