She held up the old photograph in front of her.

‘This is definitely the place,’ Xavier said. He was right. The same trees on the crest of the hill. The wild grass meadow, the hedgerow dividing the fields. This was the right place. So where had the rocks gone?

They walked through the long grass, the wind blowing it in rippling waves across the plain.

‘There,’ pointed Xavier, running ahead and planting his feet in a hollow in the ground. ‘They were here.’

She went ahead and found the next hollow, and the next, like footprints made by a giant striding across the land.

The boulders had been here. They had set out to try and answer how they had got there and who had put them there. Was their presence a sign of another civilisation? Another life that had visited their world? Now they faced a new conundrum.

Where and they gone and who had moved them?

This is a response to the #writephoto Prompt: Presence curated over at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click on the link to read other stories inspired by the image.

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