(Image copyright: Madison Woods)
The banyan tree had been there in the temple courtyard ever since the time I could remember. It's said to be more than one hundred years old. It was beneath this tree that my grandmother used to sit and retell mythical stories for us children.
This was the place which gave shade and solace to millions of weary travelers.
But no one would dare enter this area after twilight. They say that the tree would come to life. Swaying its branches, shedding its leaves and calling out to anyone who would care to listen. To hear the stories that it has to tell.
This drabble is written for Friday Fictioneers- 27th June for the above photo prompt.