Confessions of a heart of stone
This week’s Writing Challenge consists of writing a post based on the following picture:
I may be hard, dirty and “cobbly” but this does not mean that the world around me does not interest me. It is quite the opposite: I love observing what happens out there! You may think that being stuck to the ground by some concrete and sharing a path with thousands of others of my kind is a boring life to lead but there is always something happening.
People step on me all the time. I am used to it. But sometimes, when I do not like someone’s behavior, I take revenge and make them slip and fall down the steps. Once there was this tourist who spat his tasteless pinkish bubble gum on me and I ensured that he twisted his ankle.
Today the sun has been shining during most of the day and I have enjoyed being warmed by it. The weather is normally quite mild in our city but the sun does not always reach my path since there is a row of houses on each side that blocks away the sun rays. The excited voices of the visitors on board of the tram are part of the constant melody of my day. The tram moves uphill in regular intervals, transporting the humans to the end of the path where they can worship a famous statue. I ask myself why no one worships me. We are made out of the same material, after all.
A few of the visitors decide to take the steps and that is when it gets interesting for me. I enjoy listening to their voices: severe and soft ones, deep and steep ones, monotonous or melodic ones. I do not understand their language but from their voices I can guess their tempers and personalities. They sometimes drop a coin or some other item and when they bend down to pick it up I can get a close-up of their faces and confirm the theories I have made up about their characters.
Today has been a calm day though. Most visitors have preferred walking on the other side of the path. Probably because there has been more sun light on that side. I do not hold it against them. If I had legs, I would do the same.
But there are two individuals approaching. I can hear their voices clearly. One of them sounds like a rain bow. And the other one like rain drops falling on a copper roof. Then I can hear a third voice stream, a melody consisting of their joint voices. It sounds like a goat, but somehow softer. It makes me smile.
They suddenly stop. Right next to me. Have they noticed I have been listening to them? No. They do not seem to be looking at anything else but each other. The rainbow human moves toward the copper roof human and wraps her arms around him. He does the same. I hear a new sound. Like a ticking clock. A fast rhythm. Boiling.
I can feel something in my interior moving; or being removed. It is hard to describe. As if I were melting, shrinking, getting humble. Even though this moment only lasts a few seconds, it feels like an eternity. My world has frozen. Frozen with fire. For the first time in my entire existence I want to break out and move. I want to approach those humans and understand more about what they are doing. They are not talking anymore. Not making goat sounds anymore. They are not even moving. They have become statues themselves. I wonder why hundreds of humans approach the hill on a daily basis to look at the stone statue. If you ask me, the beauty lies within themselves. But then, I am just a hard, dirty and “cobbly” part of a path in this city.