Weekly Writing Prompt – Instance

To the tribal, to the child, to the ‘native’ it has an almost face like structure. The wise laugh at the notion. They think themselves better, advanced enough in their science they can now throw away the childlike ideals of the past.

The wise laugh from their ivory towers and floating alchemist laboratories as the inhabitants of the land dare not pass beneath the arch. The natives draw marks in the sand, pictures of fading moons and rising suns.

The wise cloak themselves in their learnings and magiks. They wander through, not heeding the echo of the ages. An echo so deeply infused within the confines of this cavernous hole that it has shaped it as if to be the dead face of a wise man looking out upon the world.

The wise would have been wiser still if they had heeded the cry of the child, the tribes and the uninitiated. For the strange structure, thought at once to be a fanciful construct of the winds erosion, while also a source of fear to those who lived within its shadows, was in fact more than it seemed. Things always are – and it is the first step of the wise to admit it is so.

For the wise, thinking themselves greater than those who had inhabited the land for long millennia, did what the tribal people would not. They passed beneath the arch. In so doing they triggered the greatest folly of the era.

For the arch did guide and protect from the transforming energies it confined – energies unleashed by the pulsing heart of the creatures that strayed.

In an instance, the world was changed. In an instance, gone was the stable geo strata of the earth. In an instant, the wise unlearned all that they had once known, the earth shook and life began again.

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