I followed a path, carved around a rock, a rather odd shaped path, somewhat matching the hollow stone that sat there. Moss and grass had gown underneath the rock, almost giving it a skirt-like feature. Or maybe it was a beard? Could this inanimate object be real? I dare move closer to it, now more curious as to its purpose. Gathering myself, trying to rid myself of the fear I was beginning to inhale, I touched it. Nothing. How silly I was to think this rock would have feelings. I climbed up on it, standing tall, overlooking the land, taking in the pastel colors of the sky. I felt a bit heady standing high, so I sat myself down on the stone.

As my feet dangled in the opening, a rather strange sensation came over me. I tried to draw my legs up but they wouldn’t move. I must have caught them on something. Desperately trying to remove them, I felt a resistance, someone or thing was holding me! Before I knew it, I was being dragged down, into the hole. Echoes of myself screaming as I fell deeper into the earth, blended with the laughter of another. The rock. He was not just an inanimate object, he was alive and I had angered him. With my last breath, anguished, I spoke the words, “I’m sorry”, but they went unheard. After all, a rock cannot hear…or feel…

Or can it?

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo ©Sue Vincent