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She was on no path she had seen before
When she left the shelter of the trees
And saw on the crest of the tor
A giant circle of standing stones
Her feet carried her forwards
Closer still to the circle of stones
A fey energy she felt as she neared them
And she felt the hair on her body
Stand straight and stiff from some strange force
Yet her feet took her inexorably onwards
Until in the centre of the circle she stopped
Engulfed in an incredible feeling of peace
Of ages long gone and questions of possibility
All thought and feeling fled
As the silence of the countryside was broken
By strange noises all around her
Of men shouting and others whispering quietly
She knew not if her pursuers had found her
Voices seeming to call just beside her ear
Stumbling as she looked around in the mist
Stumbling, she flung her hand out to stop falling
Instead her hand struck the standing stone
Light flashed and sudden darkness engulfed her
The stones were still in front of her
Yet the sounds of people moving silently surrounded her
More voices she now heard calling
Deep, gruff and quietly fierce
She stumbled again unbalanced
Brought up short by the prick of a knife
Held quickly up to her throat
Men, wild of hair and beard
Dressed in ragged and dirty clothes like kilts
Seemed to whirl around her with smooth Scottish lilts
As they began to hustle her away from the stones
She struggled, and opened her mouth
To scream aloud her protest
But the hand over her face
Cut off sound and most of her breath
Fearing to be left to rot
Her throat cut from ear to ear
She stumbled on the uneven ground
Loose from her captor she whirled aside
Turning back towards the circle once more
Seconds flew past like mid summers day
An age for each short moment of time
She reached the portal and ran through
Looking back to see if she was followed
She saw the flame haired giant with eyes of sapphire
Brilliantly blue in the mist staring into her heart
He seemed to be a part of her in some strange way
Lovers from another day?
Mist on the Standing Stones
The magic of the stones continues.
Blessings, Susan ♥
© Susan Jamieson, August 2014
Owls and Orchids 