Writing Prompts Week 6: A Story About Finding Something Lost

Silence ruled. The river bubbled, the trees applauded in the wind, but no one was there to hear, save for the deer and the butterflies and the bees and whatever other small creatures deigned to wander the isolated valley.

Crumbling stone buildings covered in moss continued to stand against the elements. Though the wind and rain buffeted them, still they were there. What once were carefully tended gardens and fields became overgrown and wild. The rusted plow was all but hidden amidst the tangling long grass and vines. Relics of a bygone era.

Humans had not walked through these woods in many years; not since before the woods were but a few scattered trees that had been too thick to fell. The orchards had long since joined the forest. They gave easy food to the squirrels and the birds in autumn.

What was once a village square, all neatly cobbled and meticulously maintained, was now just a collection of loose stones and falling archways surrounding a well far older than anything else.

A stag looks up from his grazing at the sound of stones shifting further up the mountain. A lone human stands there, utterly in awe. The faded map that had laid tucked in the darkest corner of the archives had indeed been correct. This was the lost city.

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