The hiking trip with your buds was always meant to have unique sights and cool photo ops. in some existential way, these photos will be all you have to remember these days when you’re older. It’s best to make the time for it. When you all found the tree, blackened and twisted by some force, it served as the perfect opportunity to stop for a break. Taking chilled swigs from your metal canister, you snap photos of your friends as they examine the tree. It’s quiet here and the shade nearby calls your name as blazing sun beats down on your neck. The coming sunburn is sure to be rough.
You close your eyes to wipe the sweat from your brow and face. The new sweat stain on your shirt hem will dry. Taking deep breaths you tilt your head back and stretch, eyes closed, feeling the sun on your face, until someone starts shouting. Shouting, shouting, calling his name. You stare at your two friends. Wide eyed and afraid. Someone is missing.
“What happened?” You incredulously ask, remembering the time one pretended to stab out their eye- the ketchup squirting through their fingers as their poor acting gave way to a childish grin. Your friends are known to play their funny tricks, but something is different. Something is off. One of them runs towards the tree searching for something nobody can see. He’s moving with an anxious quickness, breathing rapid, eyes bulging, brows knit tightly. This is real. You can feel your heart starting to race.
“Where did he go?” You bark in a serious tone. The one you use to get the guys to quit screwing around. The one by the tree begins to explain. He’s squatting down by the tree, holding the top of the gnarled spiral for stability. He let’s go and shifts awkwardly under the bough until his form evaporates in the space. His mass fading like hazy waves of heat ahead of you on a scorching asphalt road. It’s pandemonium and the last of your friends launches themselves to where their friend just was. Their frightened voice screaming the name as they rush forward.
“Don’t be a hero!” You command as your friend stumbles forward in a fruitless attempt. An attempt to do what? You’re not sure. They’re gone for God’s sake. As the words leave your mouth their body dissipates into nothingness and suddenly it’s quiet. You feel the warmth drain from you. The dirt meets your knees as you’re left staring, mouth agape, silent and exasperated. It’s quiet here. Too quiet.
Each month I will aim to share one or more of the many photos I’ve taken that give a sense of wonder and sparks the imagination. These are not meant to be exhaustive DM resources where I spell out all the answers. Rather, these serve as bits of inspiration you can take back to your table or fiction and expand upon.
Thank you for joining me on this journey through the realms of microfiction. If you've enjoyed this exploration of Lenscrafted Lore and crave more tales of adventure, don't hesitate to subscribe so you stay updated on future posts. My publication is free but any support or feedback helps me keep the writing going.