“Those are the directions…” He scrunched up his face, staring at the map he was holding. It was ancient, but he knew that they were in the right place, even if it barely resembled the real landscape. Thousands of years later, people were still looking for the key. It was made of pure gold, if the tales were true, and they were going to find it now.
“There’s nothing around here,” she said, shaking her head in disappointment. He had taken his sister, an archaeologist student, hoping that she would find it. He wasn’t very good at this kind of thing, and he was afraid he would damage it if he went looking for it with his rough fingers.
“It has to be here,” he now said, folding up the map and walking up to the stones himself. Kneeling down, he brushed away the grass. His sister sat down in the grass behind him, pulling out a sandwich.
He continued looking for a while, growing more and more frustrated. Then his sister uttered a sudden squeak “here!”. She was holding up something glittering. Within seconds he was beside her, his gun pressed to her head.
“I was kidding,” she panted, her laugh frozen on her face and now turning to a mask of horror. “It’s not the key. It’s just my necklace.”
He took a deep breath and pocketed the gun again.
“Why…” she whispered, suddenly panicked, “why do you have a gun?”
FFftPP, Week #16 – 2016
Photo prompt provided by https://pixabay.com/en/nature-shapes-england-trees-316781/