Beneath

beneath

It was said that when no wind blew to disturb the water’s surface and you stood gazing into its depths long enough, dark figures could often be seen riding along the reflected ridge as if journeying to some far off castle or town beyond the hillside. Brave souls often boasted that they had dared linger there at night to see the flickering lights of whatever settlement lay beyond, but when challenged their stories did not hold up to scrutiny.

Even at the sun’s highest reach the tarn had a melancholy air about it.

It was rumoured to be the entrance to Tir na nOg the Land of Youth for in days gone people had vanished there only to return years later remarkably unaged and with no memory of their missing time. They had dallied too long before becoming confused as to which was the world and which was reflection then drawn in by what lay beneath. When when the denizens of the Otherworld became bored of them, were returned to reality.

This was of course just a story told by folk on alcohol fuelled dark nights, but people felt safest in the hardest winters when ice covered the lake forming a freezing barrier between the mortal world and the disturbing possibility of the unkown…

 

 

Thursday photo prompt: Beneath #writephoto

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