The Geology of
Chance
Once he had been stone but now, he was flesh. He had no memory of the transformation, of moving from one state to another; just a sense of having been inert, solid, for centuries.
This
pliant new body moved with ease, if not grace – not yet. He slithered on his
belly along the dry riverbed and then up the bank, slowly rising to his unfamiliar
feet as he approached the tree line. His legs ached, the muscles quivering. He
flexed his fists as he walked, feeling the hidden strength of the bones in his hands.
It
would do, this body. It would suffice.
Birds sang; small land animals darted
through the ferns and the between exposed roots of trees. Insects shimmered in
the sunlight, rare jewels to be prized but never taken.
He walked deeper into the dense
forest, enjoying the shade, looking up to see the sunlight making bright patterns in
the dripping canopy above. The sounds, the smells, the sights…all were new to
him in this form.
After what seemed like a long time, he
came to a small clearing. A single large rock sat at its centre. He approached
the rock and stood before it, caressing its cold surface with open hands and an
open heart. He thought about how long he had sat there, half buried in the
earth, and how it felt to be free – to be able to move from place to place,
point to point, and never have to be immobile again.
How it felt to be able to leave.
The rock twitched.
He smiled.
He felt some of his lifeforce leaving
his body, flowing into the rock.
The rock turned, squirmed, and sat up, unfolding long limbs and a slender torso. Stretching upwards, reaching towards the light, she smiled and nodded in greeting.
He
took her hand. It was warm; so much warmer than stone.
Together
they walked deeper into the rainforest in search of their children.
© Gary McMahon, 2025
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