For those of you following along with the previous Friday’s list, I accidentally did Wednesday’s prompt yesterday so today is actually the prompt listed for Tuesday. I know it doesn’t really matter as they were randomly selected in the first place, but I thought I’d let you know in case it was bothering you. So shall we back track to Tuesday’s prompt? Excellent. Let’s go.
I can’t decide what sort of story this starts. part of me thinks horror and part mystery. It’s interesting but I’d have to figure out the genre before I proceed.
Wednesday, March 16th: The chant began, low at first and sounding like the distant sea but slowly it resolved itself into words.
The chant began, low at first and sounding like the distant sea, but slowly it resolved itself into words. What those words were I couldn’t tell. The language was unfamiliar to me. The sound raised the hair on the back of my neck. The chant, for whatever purpose it was intended sounded eerie here.
The moon was high in the sky, bathing the landscape in silver. The long grasses swayed in the light breeze, their silvery tips looking sharp enough to slice. The trees ended at the hill’s base, while the grasses marched up the hill ending in a flat dirt top where those cloak shrouded chanters gathered.
Calling them celebrants seemed a misnomer as there was nothing of joy in the chant they spoke. Worshipers likewise seemed wrong as I didn’t know if this was part of a religion or something else.
I knew it wasn’t a part of the village’s religion, or if it was it was a part they well hid from visitors. The various houses of worship in town all matched what I knew from my travels through other villages in this part of the country and not too much different from those in my own home kingdom. This was something different.
I inhaled deeply and smelled the new cut grass from the top of the hill. The cutting was what first alerted me that something was going on. I came across it on one of my ramblings and found several people armed with hand scythes shaving the top of the hill down to bare ground while leaving the rest of the grasses intact. There was no attempt to create a path to the hill top. Their scythes were in active until they reached the top. Then a circle was drawn and every bit of grass within that circle was removed. I investigated after they had gone and found the spot was simply bare. There were no standing stones, no alters, no ruins of a temple, ancient or otherwise. There was nithing but bare earth.
It intrigued me and when I saw the people slowly filtering through the woods and towards the hill top, I slipped out of my rented rooms and followed, curious. I suspected some sort of clandestine fete. I hadn’t expected this. The edge of the woods was as far as I went. The grasses were too low to provide cover and in truth, something about them whispered danger to the back of my brain.
Deciding that I had seen enough, even as the chant continued, I backed away, fading deeper into the trees. Whatever it was did not involve me. I assuaged my curiosity, for the most part, and perhaps I could ask questions in the morning. Tonight I suspected I would be doing nothing but interfering.
The chant accompanied me on my trek back through the words, audible until I stepped out of the woods and into the small yard behind my lodgings. Then it was as if the sound simply shut off. I supposed they had finished for the night and hurried to my door, letting myself inside lest I be caught following.
Ten til Midnight 