Roger the rock

by David Bennett

There was once a rock called Roger, it lived in a little rock pile it called home. One day as it was sitting quite happily sunning itself in the mid-summer sun, it felt a shadow fall over him. A large soft pink thing levitated Roger above the ground. This must be one of the great wizards he had heard other old rocks muttering about on cold winters nights to cast fear into the hearts of young rocks. It was even rumored that all the rocks had original been brought here by the wizards, but he didn't believe that.

Roger was amazed and enthralled at his new found levitation skills that he didn't even notice the trip to where ever it was he was going. Caught up as he was in the new smells, the new sunshine and the colour of his rather drab surroundings. There was a sudden 'Thump!' and Roger was spun forward over the ground and slammed into one of the drab walls. 'Ouch!' he thought, 'They should be more careful, I could chip!'.

The world was dark. The world was cold. The world wasn't made up of potatoe chips (much to Roger's disappointment). Alone and contemplating he stared sightlessly into the dark room he had been moved to. Luckily, being a rock, he didn't feel the cold so he sat happily going over the days events.

The day ended. A new one was recycled from a few days ago, the creases ironed out and it was proclaimed a brand new day. The rock, unheeding to this occurance, chortled and snuffled to itself about the exciting turn of events it had just passed through.

It felt light. The light was cold. He was again levitated and born out into the sunshine of the new day. He felt wood. Soaking up the new experiences and feeling the world, he almost failed to notice the sudden blinding pain which ripped through his body. Oh no! He was a steak knife sharpener!

Stories and Poems page ddt@discworld.imaginary.com