It is hot. The sun burns through the sky, not a shred of cloud to block its sizzling rays. Of course all I can do is sit here. That how it is for rocks. No legs, no hands, hell, not even a fin or a sail. Nope, not for a rock. You’ve heard the phrases, you’ve problem said them: dumb as a box of rocks, solid like a rock, stone cold dead. Who wants to be dumb, solid, and dead? Not me.
Not that anyone asked. They never do.
At least last week I was in the grass. That was OK. Cooler, anyway, though kind of scratchy. Then some half-brained kid picks me up – no reason, mind you – and hurls me towards a stop sign. Clang. Yeah, funny. I’m pretty sure I left a dent. I’m probably smeared with red paint, too, though I’ll never know. No eyes, remember? So now I’m stuck here, in the dirt, next to a road, with no cover at all and the sun beating down and every once in a while a car hurtles past, wheels inches from me, washed in exhaust. It’s only a matter of time before someone veers over just a hair and then… wham. Cars are heavy. Trucks are worse. Trust me, I know. You think I was always this small? This smooth? I used to be big, edgy, sharp. I used to tower over people. I used to intimidate. Now I’m just a hunk of granite, hand sized, easy to throw. Easily abandoned on the side of the road.
If I weren’t I rock, I would scream.
Carolyn's Adventures in Self publishing
Self-publishing is a booming industry and the internet is awash in how-to guides on the topic. This blog is not going to add to the heaps of helpful information already out there. This is my story about the process I'm choosing to bring the final book in my REWIND trilogy to life.
Looking for older posts that feature my Flash Fiction? Click on the pre-2021 ARCHIVES.