Retribution (Five minutes freewrite)

The meeting started with a commotion uncustomary to this gathering. Not much of a commotion, mind, something you and I might find ourselves completely oblivious to. A mere shuffling of chairs pulled forward by the unsteady feet of the Elders. Long accustomed to sitting in the dimness at the end of the hall - out of sight and out of mind - the ancient beings draped in their gray cloaks were now coming forward, challenging their younger brothers. The in crowd, those who truly mattered.
For millennia now the ghostly ones had maintained their reserve, the humiliation of their reduced circumstances hidden under the guise of dignity. It was a rare occasion for one of them to speak up at the gathering and to an untrained eye that took an air of dignified wisdom and the young lords played their part. It didn't cost them anything to acknowledge the old boys with a polite barely-there nod of their heads adorned with shiny laurels matching their bright colored robes. All for decorum sake. Much better for the Elders than to open their mouths only to be markedly ignored or unceremoniously reduced to silence.
For some reason though, today, the Elders tried to make their presence felt. Not by a brazen move, they were too tame for that. None opened their mouths during the initial proceedings when stats were read out, traditionally a time when the younger ones patted each other on the back, congratulating themselves for their thriving business. Truth is it has been a long time since any of them had actually listened to the numbers so no one noticed the dwindling of their respective flocks. None of the annoyingly confident youngsters, but the old ones had. Not because they were smarter, but they had the dubious privilege of old age - experience. Ensconced in the darkness they waited patiently for what they knew would come. Inevitably. The fundamental law of all creation - what rises must fall. Too busy polishing their laurels made of the purest fool's gold, the young ones had failed to notice the deepening wrinkles and the odd gray hair. They were getting old and their flocks were getting smaller.

They liked to keep their meetings short, but on that day a most extraordinary thing happened. One of the most ancient spirits, so insubstantial you could almost see through him the cracked wood of the old chair he sat on, rose to his feet and announced in a trembling voice: I demand retribution! A most serious claim, nobody had laid for centuries.
The young ones looked at him trying desperately to remember what kind of spirit was he? A tree spirit, it turned out, a deity belonging to so distant an era he belonged to the primordial ones. Quite ridiculous, the younger ones thought. Even in his glory days, this old fool barely lorded over a bunch of cavemen who showed their respect with offerings of animal entrails and carved bones. At best. Not like today when even the most obscure of the young ones had brick-and-mortar temples and thousands of followers.
The more he spoke the stronger his voice was getting. The old spirit was enraged - his cult was making an unexpected and frankly unexplainable comeback, gathering a handful of new believers each passing week. There had been a scuffle between a modest group of his followers and some Christians cutting down sacred trees for a new church. According to customs, one of the groups was entitled to see some divine retribution. Death was on the table and the ancient spirit claimed the young ones had no right to prop up their dwindling their decaying empires at the expense of his reborn cult.
Not wishing to dwell on that matter, the young ones were quick to concede on this point and a swift divine strike of lightning on the new church was agreed upon.
On their way out, one of the golden-robed ones couldn't restrain himself - 'You know it's just a passing fad, old fool, don't you'?
'They all are', the tree spirit answered, measuring the usurper from head to toe. Down at the hems, the golden robe was already turning gray.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, today's prompt was: death on the table! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!

Image: Pixabay