The Blue Rock
By Julian Drury
QuailBellMagazine.com
QuailBellMagazine.com
There was a blue rock that sat on the bank of a castle moat. Every day a sparrow would land on the blue rock and peck its feathers clean. The sparrow would invite other sparrows and they too would clean themselves and discuss each other’s adventures. Often the sparrows would fly from all over the world, congregating, breeding, and building bonds. Some sparrows would die during their journeys to the blue rock, some would say a nearly religious importance. Over time, however, the castle was destroyed by warfare and the sparrows returned less and less. The sparrows stopped returning, and the blue rock sat alone. The moat would go dry of its waters, left only with mud and a grave scar upon the earth. The blue rock entrenched the entire time, its color remaining as radiant as it had always been.
There was a blue rock that sat on the bank of a castle moat. Every day a sparrow would land on the blue rock and peck its feathers clean. The sparrow would invite other sparrows and they too would clean themselves and discuss each other’s adventures. Often the sparrows would fly from all over the world, congregating, breeding, and building bonds. Some sparrows would die during their journeys to the blue rock, some would say a nearly religious importance. Over time, however, the castle was destroyed by warfare and the sparrows returned less and less. The sparrows stopped returning, and the blue rock sat alone. The moat would go dry of its waters, left only with mud and a grave scar upon the earth. The blue rock entrenched the entire time, its color remaining as radiant as it had always been.
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