Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

#Writephoto ~ Circle

CIRCLE

I had gone for a walk beside the lake and barely remember bumping my head on a low hanging tree branch.

The small lump on the side of my head told me I had.

Feeling dizzy, I must have fallen and found myself leaning against a five-foot monolith. I counted eight more around me and a broken altar stood in the centre.

I sat there feeling as if I had fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole and into a stone circle. Hoping I had not broken my phone, having landed on my backside, I retrieved it from my back pocket and snapped away.

Rubbing at my eyes now at the sight of nine ladies in flowing robes, of which I was one, holding hands with the other eight. Was I glimpsing my former life or had the lump on my head grown to twice the size?

I could still feel the stone against my back, the scene before me began slowly fading, taking the other me with it.

As I sat there, I could still feel the hands I had been holding inside the circle.

I cannot be in two places at once, I must be dreaming. Yet the proof was in my hand. I flicked through the images, feeling the bark of the tree at my back…