It is time Beloved. One thousand years ago we angered the gods with our love. Our punishment was to be imprisoned in the rock cliffs overlooking our home. We were crude caricatures. I could no longer touch your gentle skin or kiss your sweet lips. They were jealous.
You wept stone tears as we spent decades watching our castle, our home, disintegrate. Now it is only a ruin. We watched our children and our children’s children and we were proud. But no longer did we have the voice to tell those we loved. When the last of our family was gone you could not stay. Your spirit died within the shell of the Stone. And I was alone.
I could not weep. I could not scream at the injustice of the centuries we spent watching, all because we dared to love. Perhaps it is hope that kept me standing as a sentinel. Perhaps the gods would not allow me the release of death. Perhaps I was afraid. Will you be waiting for me my Beloved? Will the gods be satisfied, our punishment complete? I have only memories now and I seek oblivion. Beloved.
This mini tale is based on the accompanying photo supplied by the intrepid Sue Vincent on her Thursday photo prompt: Keep #writephoto
Check her out! You will not be disappointed. https://scvincent.com/