The crow sat upon the branch, looking down at the man.
Each day this week, the man had appeared. Each day he stopped at the entranceway then paced back and forth, sometimes muttering, sometimes silent. The gates were open, yet, each day he did not enter. What was beyond the gates that stopped the man.
The crow followed the man’s gaze beyond the entrance. All he could see were the grey stones, the occasional bench, and a smattering of yew trees. Nothing to prevent the man from stepping through.
The crow shook his head and let out a caw, surprisingly, it brought the man’s attention to him. The man looked at the bird, it’s piercing black eyes stared back. The man gave a nod, a silent acknowledgement, then stepped through the gateway.
Written in response to Sue Vincent’s prompt – #writephoto. You can join…
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