This story is under construction. As more is written and major edits are made, I will post the fact on Loose Laces.

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“Are you a god?”

The voice startled me awake from my childish daydream, but I saw no one as I quickly looked around the meadow. I was sitting in soft grasses on a hillside, my bare back against the shaded coolness of a large, weathered boulder leaning out of the ground. After a few moments, I closed my eyes and began to drift back into my subconscious world of giants and dragons and crawly things; a place only little boys know of.

“Are you a god?”

This time I not only heard the voice, but the rock itself resonated the words deeply into my body. Scared, I jumped up and ran a few paces from the boulder, turning to see who was talking so loudly that it was shaking my world. There was no one in sight except a few cows grazing near a farm pond in the little valley below me and they were many stone’s throw away.

It was mid-summer and the excitement of being out of school for a few months had long past worn away, but it was still good to be a boy in a carefree world where make believe and reality blend into lazy afternoons beneath sun and puffy, drifting clouds.

The big rock was one of my special places when I was alone, and that was most of the time. I lived with grandma in a small farm house, but all the land save a yard and an acre of garden space had been sold off over the years. Not having any siblings to play with or required chores to do, my days were spent either in the woods and fields in best weather, or inside with my nose between the pages of a book when the air was cold or wet. On that day, I drifted toward the rock outcropping that is common in limestone country, but was the only one within easy walking distance from home which was still secluded from an adult’s casual view. In the last four of my eleven years on earth, the boulder and a couple more secret places had become my refuge form the boredom an inquisitive child will not long tolerate. At times it was my fortress where I defended my family from savages and barbarians and at other times while sitting upon its mighty crest, it was my airplane and eventually my spaceship.

My stone world sat near the top of a low ridge some 1500 yards from our house as the crow flies, and about a mile as a boy idles along. It offered a pretty good view of our front porch, the smokehouse, and the outside toilet, and on the right I could see the courthouse clock in nearby Jonesboro. To the left the vista opened up and I could see parts of Boones Creek community several miles away. Dead ahead about six miles east, the heights of Buffalo and Cherokee mountains created the southeastern horizon.

After wandering around on the slope for a few minutes satisfying myself that I was alone and was obviously dreaming that a voice had spoken to me, I eased my way back to the rock and this time not feeling need of a nap, I climbed the backside up to its top. There I stretched out on my stomach and watched the cows enter the pond water for a drink and some cooling off. A thin breeze fell over the ridge and made my bed comfortable enough even in the July sun.

“Are you a god?”

This time the voice was louder and the huge stone fairly rumbled as it asked its question. The vibrating frightened me, but my curiosity allayed my fear enough that I could set up and squeak out, “Who are you?”

After many seconds, the rock replied, “I am not; are you a god?”

“I’m not God.”

“Are you a god?” The stone again asked in its rumbling, gravelly voice.

Beginning to feel more uneasy, I said, “No, I’m not a god. Are you a god?”

There was no answer forthcoming, and as much as I pleaded, the boulder remained silent. Finally with an empty stomach and tiring of the inactivity, I retrieved my shirt from the grass and made my way home, stopping many times to look and listen toward my fortress on the ridge.
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To be continued …

©2010 Ken Anderson