The key drops with a thud on the cold floor. Beads of sweat on her forehead glisten in the sun.
She has been warned against touching the ancient treasure. Her ancestors guard it in form of snakes and scorpions, and woe begone to anyone who goes near … or so the locals say.
There is nothing inside the copper urns. The one who spread the stories has disappeared with the wealth.
Creative Experiments and More 
Nicely done, Reena, but a grim testimony to reality.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. Thank you, Bill!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great mini story with a full narrative!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Nicole!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Superstition is like that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The people who take advantage of superstitions are also always like that 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yup, it’s basically exploitation.
LikeLiked by 1 person