Sue’s Writephoto challenge:
Use the image below as inspiration to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, as long as it is fairly family-friendly.
There is no word limit and no style requirements, except that your post must take inspiration from the image and/or the prompt word given in the title of this post.
Feel free to use #writephoto logo or include the prompt photo in your post if you wish, or you may replace it with one of your own to illustrate your work.
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green horizon, beyond which the mist veils a hill topped with strange rock formations.
The Three Wise Ones gazed out through the veil of mist over a landscape that hadn’t changed in centuries.
Unlike their distant cousins Guardians of Haven Cove, there was no waterway here, just wide open and green spaces, a haven of a different kind for wildlife and Nature at her best.
The Eldest had seen about four hundred years more than the others, his flat top having weathered more storms than he cared to count. Now large birds of prey nested in what were his eyebrows, but he offered them protection, which is more than mankind ever did.
Old Nosey in the middle was a craggy old soul. Some said she was a witch who had fallen foul of the masses and rather than burn at the stake, cast a spell on herself to be ever watchful over her charges. White Magic wasn’t recognised in her time, and the fools were too ignorant to recognise there was a distinct difference. Thanks to her, flowers, herbs and shrubs used in her healing potions thrived under her expert eye.
Junior though was an enigma. Such was his standing, it was a miracle he didn’t topple over and roll down the embankment. He was taller than the others, though it was never clear whether they were sinking, or some unknown entity was adding to his height which is what gave him his many layers. He could therefore see further, and to an extent provide a windbreak or weather shield to his older counterparts.
Each had their own part to play in the grand scheme of things, and on misty days such as these, you could almost hear them whispering to each other.
Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto challenge