This is for Sonya’s Three Line Tales, a photo by Emiel Molenaar and a story to tell in three lines. Have a go. It’s fun.
They’d done it again, he fumed—fairy folk or not they were bad news and it meant another sweep of the harvester before the self-styled pagans arrived to take more photos.
Every summer it was the same, convoluted patterns appearing in the hay and the wheat fields—crop circles they called them, and the eejits with their long scraggy beards told him not to touch them, or the spirits would be angry.
He had lost patience, and at the winter solstice, when the real powers wakened to create the new year, he would cast the enchantment to draw the pathetic, artistic, circle-obsessed fairies into the rising sun and fry the little bastards once and for all.