The tribes worshiped the living rock and turned to it for their material and spiritual sustenance. The rock provided clues in decipherable holy chants. As long as the rock was there, no calamity or scarcity could befall them, or so they thought.
The tribesmen were believers except for a boy who wanted to dig deeper into the mystery. So, one afternoon, he tiptoed to the living rock and peeped through its ‘mouth’.
The light emanating from golden cobwebs and golden heaps of men almost blinded him. ‘Go away, or you shall never return’ resounded a thick voice from deep inside.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge.
PHOTO PROMPT© CEAyr