It's Still Life

Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Day 27

Epilogue: The Well of the World’s End

Here in the Glen of Weeping near Loch Lomond lies a vein in the land’s skin—here I stand beside the ancient Well of the World’s End, the portal to the Otherworld—Tobar Ceann an t-Saóghail, if your tongue be native.

Here, where water runs clear as truth and stones bear the weight of history’s scars—here, where whispers haunt forgotten tongues and reflections shimmer beyond antiquity—it is here, beside a single rowan tree bent double as if listening, that I return freedom to Drummond’s grimoire.

Its pages ripple and reach for the water, breaking loose and tumbling—slipping into the well’s throat as if thirst was a calling.

The grimoire slides beneath the surface with a sigh, its cracked spine curling like a contented cat; the well swallows it whole, the depths humming a lullaby older than Drummond’s name, while above, the rowan shivers—its roots cradling the book’s shadow between the stones.

No ripples remain—only the quiet of a secret too heavy for the world to keep.

Later, travellers will swear the water tastes of ink and absolution, though none can say why—and in the dark, the well smiles, its thirst for once and all time appeased.

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “haunt”.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.