TALKING ROCK TALES

Granite and Sandi Stone

"I was the foundation of the everything, you know." Grani let out a deep sigh. The sparkles that were his eyes flickered so that anyone far below or far away could see him. Sandy, who sat right at his feet, sighed along with her friend. They were much alike. Alike, except that Grani had been here longer. Grani had been pushed from the far distances up north. He had seen the place called, THE BOWELS and even had stories to tell about the time the COLD CUT came across. He had truly been around in time. With time, he had grown harder than anything Sandi could imagine.

She had never seen much in her short life, much that did not waste away. "I've heard whispers. The whispers tell me things. They whisper all around me, they say I'm a tarry." Her light voice made him strain to hear her. She went on, "They whisper ... saidameantarry, and I have tried to guess what they mean." Grani turned a cold shoulder, "Are you sure they talk about you?" "I... I'm sure they must, they whisper all about me. Always saying the same thing." No one said anything for a while. Grani tried to hear them. Sandi listened for the whispering winds too. "Well," said Grani, "I don't hear anything now... you... you're sure they say... say what?" She repeated, "Said... I mean tarry, I suppose," she was embarrassed. "Do you mean tarry?" Sandy hid his eyes from his always watching stare, "They say I'm a tarry. Lazy." Grani seemed to spark one eye, "Well we all are. Have you seen me move? I never go anyplace. I know a lot, but only because I've been in the world forever. I'm a tarry too." Sandi's face perked up, "What's forever like?" He sparked his eyes again, laughing at the younger rock's interest, "Well it's as long as I can remember!" They turned their eyes and deep-set minds back to their own thoughts. Each thought about who they were and where they had been. There was silence. Silence except for the whispering winds.

fini

THE BOWELS

Grani could remember back to a time that seemed to have been about the time of his birth. It was deep and warm, very warm. It was so warm, that it was hot. He could not remember having all the parts that he was made of now. Today, anyone looking at him would think he had always been who he was. To look at him now, there were tiny sparkles of what seemed to be diamonds that glistened with the sun's light. If you looked at him, you could see tiny black specks that looked like diamonds in the rough. A diamond in the rough is coal. Black dots covered his body like the tiny sparkles. He had pink and reddish blemishes that stood out like pimples all over him. There were even little white stones like healed over scars from all the hard times he had seen.

He didn't remember any of that being on him while he was in the BOWELS. In the heat of the bowels, there is only a mix. Everyone and everything is and are as one. In the bowels, everything is the same, hot and glowing. Deep in the bowels... the bowels of the world, Grani was called MAGMA. It was as if he was not there, like everything else in the bowels were not. Everything was together, melted into only magma. Magma was and always will be the beginning of Rock World. The bowels always move. They swirl around and around like cake mix in a mother's mixing bowl. Magma swirls like kool-aid mixed in the cool drink pitcher. Like the water in a flushed toilet. Magma swirls and always moves.

Grani fell out of the bowels one day a long time ago. He fell out with all the other rocks that were born that day. They fell out into the face of the world to start their lives. Grani got cold soon after he fell out of the magma. There was nothing to keep him warm. The face of the world was wet and the wind blew all the time. Grani got cold and there was no one to talk to. All the other rocks had gone on their own.

He cooled off and the light from the sun shined on him. When it did, he could see he was black. He was black from being in the mix. The heat that kept him warm had made him black. Black like too much sun. He looked like he was burned. The burn look grew off with time, the longer he sat, the more his true colors came through. There were small black spots that could have been moles. There were black shiny spots that looked like black diamonds. With time and with wind he saw other colors. The pink came when he was pushed into other rock. He was pushed so hard that pieces of the other rock stuck to him. He was pushed by the cold cut. It pushed him and anything else in the way, under it.

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