It must be quite un-nerving to find oneself lost, with dusk approaching, amongst the Bronze Age barrows of Kings Barrows Ridge slightly less than a mile away from the standing stones of Stonehenge. A feeling of relief would surely be felt upon seeing lights in the distance, assuming them to be shining from somewhere one could find assistance.
How strange then to realize that the lights are actually coming towards you. Even stranger to discover that the lights are flaming torches being carried by Druids.
It's the 1950's and one would assume that a sort of re-enactment had been stumbled upon. Or maybe these are "modern day" druids processing to some sort of religious ceremony. You desperately want to find your way home but you don't want to be seen by this strange group so you hide behind a tree until they have passed by then follow silently in their wake.
At last you're back on familiar territory, no longer lost and still not wishing to be seen you hurry along a well known short cut but cannot resist one last look at the strange procession. Turning, mesmerized, you watch the lights go out as one by one the hooded figures disappear into thin air.
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