None can stand for Ruby's contest
Posted June 10th, 2011 by AlgebraAddict
June 10th, 2011
Put your head in the sand. You will hear nothing. You will poke the sand out of your ears. You will think about how stupid you are to be doing that. Relax and really listen. Like a rushing waterfall, a noise comes to mind. There are no sound waves under the sand. Relax every muscle of your body. Be sand. Be who you are. You are dust. A noise comes to mind. It is a rushing noise. It is getting louder. You shut your eyes and see a light. It is getting brighter. It is too loud and too bright. It hurts. Do not pull yourself away. Bam. We are here. We are waiting for you. Once you inhibit the world of the sands, you will never be the same again. If you pull yourself away you will always be the same blunt creature.
Rocks talk. Yes, they do, just quietly. Very quietly. You can’t deny it, mostly because you’ve never heard them talk. I am a rock. I am small and gold and I listen to every little thing. I am sand. Sand is rocks, just lots of them. I am at the surface where the tide often covers me. You might think it’s boring just being sand. No, it’s not. I talk to my pal in India all the time, even though I live in Washington at the coast. Dirt is always in the air, and it moves quickly, passing messages out. On a cool Thursday night at about two in the morning (rocks don’t sleep) a grain of sand next to me gives me a message that will go to a dumb big rock in Texas from someone in China.
Every rock, every grain of sand, has characteristics. I know about a hundred trillion rocks or grains quite personally, and all the rocks in this world at least vaguely. We don’t have names, but we know each other as if we had some.
I can’t deliver the message right away anyhow. I have about eight million messages that needed to be delivered. Rocks have unlimited memory, and sand are no exception. I use “are” because humans consider sand as a material, so they are in the wrong. We think sand as a race, a community. Humans can’t see anything not as a stereotype. I buzzed a message up to the surface. It would be carried to Portugal shortly.
We are not blind, but we rarely look. We only look when we want to. I am constantly whispering. Every single rock or stone or pebble or grain or speck is always whispering. I hear the gossip of the lilies and the pride of the rolling sea.
I am the one, booms the sea as it crashes against the cliffs.
We will stand forever, say the cliffs in return with one voice.
The salt of the sea rushes and leaps with joy as waves carry them far. Pebbles at the bottom shriek with laughter as they are tickled and swept to unknown shores.
The wary cliffs are being worn. I was a mighty cliff a time ago. I stood there so proud and erect, boastingly booming with one voice, “We will stand forever.”
For thousands of years I was a cliff. I heard God create with his voice indescribable. I saw the mighty dinosaurs come and go. It was always a circle. The water rose. The water sank. Never obeying, crashing against other cliffs and destroying its path. The sea is mighty and strong. It has its own will. It will die in time. I saw the salt be left behind when the ocean roared back. Grains of my cliff were swept into the air. The cliff could not stand. It fell with a mighty crash in the days before men. I fell for a long time as the wind hurled me far. I landed down at the beach that I began this narrative at.
There is no wind, yet the sea roars on. White foam in the green water forms a sight worth seeing. The sea roars on.
I am the mighty sea. No one can stand. Cliffs fall and are swept away. I will destroy all. I will be the last standing when the world ends.
It was true. Before my eyes a boat sinks. I see the sailors struggle and drown. The sea smiles as they die one by one and are swept away.
I have killed many, and I shall kill more. I am the mighty sea. None can stand.
It is true. The water is coming. Soon I shall be swept away with it. Among the millions of messages I receive to pass on, the whisper that a grain that I had known personally had been swept away arrives.
The tide is rising. I can feel myself being lifted up as the cold water laps me up like a hungry dog.
I am the mighty sea. None can stand.
You shall dry up and wither like all one day, I shriek. The ocean laughs cruelly at me.
The ocean roars on.
Who are you really? I ask.
I am the mighty ocean.
Well then, what are you? I shriek.
None can stand.
I ask you!
The ocean roars on, never ceasing.
I am the mighty ocean. None can stand.
As I am swept away with the leaping waves, I know that it is true.
See more stories by Horatio (AA)