the oracle tower
The oracle tower sits in an otherwise empty field, a looming monolith of wood and metal and whatever else oracle towers are made from.
It doesn’t move unless it’s being consulted, or it happens to be a particularly windy day.
People come from all around to consult the oracle tower. For guidance or instructions. For something to point them in the right direction.
As far as I can tell the oracle tower doesn’t actually do anything. Sometimes the arrows spin around or the sunlight reflects off the hubcaps in a sparkly sort of way, but that’s pretty much it.
Some people stand and stare at it for hours, inspecting it from every angle. Others only remain in the field for a few minutes.
But everyone seems satisfied when they leave.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.