Thursday photo prompt – The Tower… #writephoto

scotland trip jan 15 107


A cry rang out through the air, across the surrounding fields.

Wilfred looked up from his work. He had been ploughing this particular area for the last few hours and he could have sworn that he had heard cries earlier, but this one was loud, crystal clear.

That voice, whoever it was, sounded in real trouble.

But where was it coming from? There was nothing around here apart from fields. Oh, and that old church.

Come to think of it, the cries seemed to come from that direction. He stopped, as he heard another cry, this one just as clear, but a little bleaker, or so it seems.

Not one to leave someone in distress, Wilfred halted his plough and secured it, then trudged over towards the old church. He didn’t recall ever having seen anyone here, well not for any joyous reason, anyway.  It was usually him and the other farm hands.  Most of the village were afraid to come here.  There were some old stories of people disappearing, never to be found, so apart from the farmer, and his loyal farm hands, no one ventured here.

Wilfred wasn’t fazed by these myths.  He wasn’t one to believe hearsay. Never had. People didn’t just disappear.  There was always a good reason.  It was just the old women in the village sensationalising stories.  Most of these ‘missing’ folk had probably run away from this godforsaken village, not disappeared, to somewhere where they would have a good life, and better prospects.  He wished he had the gumption to do something like that too sometimes.  But he was unable to. His unwell, widowed mother and younger siblings relied on him.  So he was stuck in this job, a job not many coveted, providing for his family.

As he approached the old building, he became very aware of being alone.  The church tower loomed, dark and foreboding, as a silhouette against the golds and russets of the dusk sky.

“Anyone? Help!”

The voice cried out again, and it was definitely here.

As he looked up into the tower, he saw a figure. The voice belonged to what looked like a woman.

“I’m trapped! Oh please! Can you let me out?”

Trapped? How was she trapped? Surely she can get down if she got up there in the first place! Women! Wilfred rolled his eyes and made his way to the door at the base of the tower, which was ajar. “I’m coming up,” he shouted.

The stairwell led him up to a door.  It didn’t appear locked, or stuck.  Oh well… He pushed against the door, that didn’t seem to have any handle. It didn’t take much. As the door opened, he glanced around to where he expected the window to be. There stood a figure with long blonde hair, facing away from him.

“There you go madam, the door is open now, it wasn’t stuck. If you’re alright, I’ll be on my way. I have work to finish.”

He turned to leave but all of a sudden, from behind him, he felt a thump to the back of his head and all went black….


In response to Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto prompt, The Tower.

My interactive peeps!

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