There is a story. A story that has filtered down through families, carried around the world for centuries. It says if you find the place of Stones, and if you walk between these Stones, they will take away your pain. As it with every thing that gives, there is also a take. They take your memories too, leaving you as fresh as a new babe. You won’t remember family; strengths and weaknesses, the idiosyncrasies that made you who you are, or even your name. If it works. It is said to work only for those whose blood the Stones recognize. Blood of the people who put them there, thousands of years ago, when Rome was only a dream.
Caroline had struggled to get here, to this special place in Scotland. A land her ancestors had walked upon, but not smoothed out. She drank in the air, crisp and fresh. Not at all like her home in Chicago with noise and dirt and scents best left undiscovered.
“Are you sure?”
Caroline turned to look at her brother. He had brought her here, pushing her wheelchair through crowded airports and tiny hotels until at last they had found this green space. If this worked, if the stories Seanair told were true, her pain would be gone. No more flashing pain through her muscles, no more uncontrollable twitches, no more weakness. And no more memory of this man, her twin.
She nodded firmly and he propelled her forward. She stood up, her frail legs shaking, and almost fell between the Stones. Flailing her way to the other side, she raised her face to the pale dawn sky.
She turned to him, and began to wail.
My story for Priceless Joy’s weekly Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. I went quite long this week, 285 words between the legend and the actual story, but I must say I was inspired by this photo. Must be my Scottish blood coming out 😉 As always, please check out the other stories inspired by this prompt; we have such fabulous writers involved with the weekly Flash Fiction.