Adrian had seen the villagers clustered hopefully below, watching him climb towards the sanctuary. He must pass the Keeper’s test, and beg his protection for the coming year.
Now, on a narrow ledge on the highest peak of High Mountain, he trembled as a tiny, wrinkled man emerged from a cave carrying a collection of dusty objects. ‘Only one,’ came the hoarse command. ‘Choose.’ Adrian reached for a gleaming coin, then hesitated, suspecting trickery, and chose a pebble.
The Keeper laughed, picked up the coin and held it aloft. ‘Bad luck. No fortune this year. Doesn’t pay to over-analyse.’
This story is my response to the photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers this week, but I missed the boat and couldn’t link it in. Here it is anyway, seeing as it’s written. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this weekly flash fiction event.