I chose the image of the Welsh castle ruins for my twenty-minute sprint this week.
Calum ducked behind the partially ruined wall, his heart pounding. He’d just come up to take some pictures. The place was usually either completely deserted or crawling with tourists. He’d thought he’d lucked out and it was a slow day and he’d get shots without people in them, but then he’d heard voices.
He turned and slowly peeked his head up over the wall enough to see the two figures he’d overheard.
Hearing someone say “If you don’t do as you’re told she’s going to have you killed,” had freaked Calum out enough that he’d run away from the pair. Looking back at them, he was glad he’d run. They didn’t look entirely human.
The taller of the two was wearing a dark green jacket. He also had no pants, and his legs had backward knees, thick brown fur, and ended in cloven hooves. Calum was fairly sure there were little horns at his temples too, but he was just far enough away to doubt his eyesight.
The shorter one at least had all his clothes on. They looked like something out of a medieval fair though. Slightly baggy pants tucked into boots that were fastened with leather tied around the outside, a loose shirt tied at the neck, and a tunic that hung over the man’s hips.
Calum ducked down again, not wanting them to notice him. They were either seriously dedicated actors of some kind, or the rumors about the ruins were true, and the two men were some of the fair folk come to the human world.