Campfire’s Burning

More logs were added to the now flickering campfire; causing fresh flames to spark higher, brighter and stronger against the surrounding darkness. Spry light flickered on the faces of the three who were sat at the fire, and it’s dance was reflected in their Halloween coloured eyes. They gazed, all as one, into the flames, spellbound at the fiery ancient floorshow- unknowingly searching for the same signs and portents that their ancestors had seeked to divine. It was a show that had blazed for thousands of years, and who was to say what story could be told if the flames were watched intently enough now. It was a show that had been seen on all four corners of the world, taken in by eyes ancient and dark, burning for both the wild and the cultured. It had mesmerised wise-men and inspired fools, danced and cavorted for lonely strangers far from home and beckoned voyagers who had still yet to journey. The show was as enthralling and beguiling now as it had been when it had first began- when the earliest spark caught hold and burned brave against the darkness.
Yet another dead branch was unceremoniously tossed into the hungry flames as the three drew unconsciously nearer to fan the cauldron of inspiration with their breath. A bottle of smoky malt was passed from one to another, to the third and back again.

And then the tales began...