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On Twisted Hill (standard:other, 5184 words)
Author: red1holsAdded: Jun 22 2002Views/Reads: 2563/1934Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Karen has always believed in the Little People and they will help out. After all they get something in return. Warning : Adult content. Discretion advised.

On Twisted Hill. 

There was an air of expectation among the little people gathered in the
hall of the Western Labyrinth. The Gatherers were getting closer; soon 
their booty would be revealed. The whole Western tribe was gathered in 
their dark blue robes. The robes covered them from head to foot with 
arms were hidden under long sleeves. Each robe was tied with a single 
strand of spider's silk. Even with the huge hoods covering their heads, 
it was easy to see that most had their faces turned towards the tunnel 
by which the Gatherers would enter. A small group were polishing and 
preparing the ceremonial cart for it's precious cargo. Now and again, 
one would look up from their task towards the tunnel. 

The murmur of conversation among them rose with the excitement. Hundreds
of whispered voices echoing around the smooth rock walls filled the 
hall. The noise slowly died away as a small group entered from a side 
tunnel. One walked ahead of the other four. The throng parted to ease 
his passage to the bier, bowing their heads in reverence. When they 
group reached the cart, the group working on the cart ceased their 
labours. Cleaning materials were hastily stored and the workers took 
their place among the rest of the Western Tribe. The hall fell totally 


James comes back into his bedroom after his early morning shower. He
dresses in his usual weekend clothes, tight jeans and figure-hugging 
shirt. He starts opening drawers, searching for clean socks, whenever 
he comes across a piece of sports gear, he throws it towards a sports 
bag in one corner of the sparsely furnished room. Although he 
appreciates his mothers' visits, he wishes that she didn't insist of 
tidying his flat. 

After dressing, he goes to small table at the side of his bed. He looks
for his necklace. The reminder of Annie, his first love. Although the 
romance had ended years ago, he had promised Annie he would wear it 
always, in return she promised that it would bring him good luck. James 
curses under his breath and searches around the table, under the bed, 
the sports bag, his pockets. James takes the search from bedroom to 
bathroom to living area to kitchen, increasingly desperate to find the 


The Northern tribe Gatherers had already returned with their prize. A
silver ring was carried by three of the Little People towards the cart. 
A buzz of conversation runs through the orange robed throng as they 
watch it progress through the hall. The Gatherers lift it onto the cart 
and a cheer goes up from the crowd. 

The leader raises his arms above his head. The material of the robe
slips back to reveal pale skin on thin wiry arms. Silence sweeps over 
the hall. The leader steps forward and inspects the ring. A 
disproportionately long and bony finger pokes into the fine crevasses 
of the Celtic design. A group of cleaners in orange robes appear and 
immediately set about removing the grime with bony fingers then polish 
the ring and the inset black stone to a pristine condition. 

---oooOOOooo--- Unusually, Karen is running late. She had arranged to
meet a friend from the office for a spot of retail therapy, light lunch 
and perhaps a movie. She moves through the house gathering everything 
she needs into her large black shoulder bag. She quickly kisses her 
mother on the cheek and shoots out of the door. The silver ring hadn't 
been missed. 


The elders from the lower labyrinth gather at the foot of the winding
stairs. Four neat rows of white robed figures wait for the priest to 
make his entrance. From a tunnel on the left, a faint chant wafts to 
their sharp ears. 

"Fen Makedur Begzuns Luzt. Fen Makedur Begzuns Luzt." 

The elders slowly take up the chant. Although each voice is barely a

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