He thought that a quick Google search on “Creative Writing” would do the trick. And it did. The Google epiphany was that writers seem to use a stimulus. A piece of music, a song, a picture. Some writers collected antique postcards and used the pictures and the messages to get the creative juices flowing.

This got Jim thinking. What would be powerful enough to work on his imagination. What would get his creative juices to bubble like lava flowing from a volcano? Perhaps the drive to Bristol tomorrow for the Jameson meeting would provide some inspiration. Bristol. Bristol? That was it. Stonehenge.

He loved Stonehenge.  That’s it. Tomorrow he would leave early and do a little detour to the stones. He hated that he could not touch the stones so his mission would be to do so. He just knew that touching the stones would be his inspiration. Getting over the boundary ropes and passed the security guards would be a small problem to overcome that he would think about during the drive tomorrow.

The drive to Stonehenge went well. He hit the morning mist about 3 miles before he arrived. He paid the entrance fee and walked toward the stones. There was not much to see. The mist was a thick grey that the autumn sun would not burn off for ages. Surprisingly there were already a number of tourists wandering around half blind in the mist. Jim was able to make out the people just slightly better than the stones nestling temptingly a few yards beyond the barrier ropes.

He walked along the path a little more until there were no more ghostly outlines and only the stones stood out against the mist. This was his chance. He casually stepped over the rope and headed for the nearest stone. It was much bigger than he imagined, towering above him like a giant branchless redwood. He put out his hand and slowly touched the stone with his fingertips.

It was cold as he imagined it to be. This close the mist could not hide the mottled blue grey roughness. He hugged the stone putting his arms around it. He wanted to feel the stone against his cheek. He nestled his cheek against the stone it did not feel good. The cold roughness was not conducive to nestling. He smiled at the image forming in his mind.

“Hey! Hey! Get away from there. Did you not read the sign?”

Jim woke from his reverie. “Sorry officer.” he said, backing away from the stone and onto the path again trying desperately not to sound sarcastic. The sun had gained enough strength to begin burning away the mist revealing the stones in all their magnificence. Jim looked at his watch. He would need to hurry if he was going to make the meeting on time.

He marvelled at the powerful beauty of the stones as they emerged all around while he headed for the exit. Swirling around in his head now were images of the great Stonehenge sitting coldly in the morning mist. Druids in flowing robes waiting patiently for the solstice sun. Human sacrifice. Celebration. Lovers. Lovers to be sacrificed. Together. Together at the end and forever. Chieftains. Rivals. A volcano. A bubbling flow of lava.