When Mountains Move
Time for another short story! My goal is to grow as a story teller and illustrator while also giving you all a taste. Hopefully as grow you all will enjoy them, share them and maybe even be ready for a whole book. This is a fun little story that I think children would enjoy too. It a story that is recreated in our home every time the weather calls for it. So grab your favorite kiddo, do your best voices and let your imaginations have their way for a quick minute.
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There is a land (here on this very earth!) that holds a giant secret- actually many giant secrets. The land is not so very close to any ocean. It lays between the wet forests and the barren flat. This land is rippled with ridges and rivers, rent with massive mountains, and pocked with mesas and buttes.
Besides all this, of course, it is populated with animals and humans. In fact, once there was a child quite like yourself who lived in a house much like yours. This story takes place just outside the child’s window, beyond the beloved yard full of waiting adventures.
One particularly foggy day, the child had gone in and out, unable to decide whether to play outside in the thick wet mist that had settled on the valley or find something indoors, such as a favorite book. While these things rolled like a sluggish marble around the child’s mind, this was happening outside:
“Come on, Hardy, won’t you play? Just for a little bit?” A voice like a low, persistent wind begged.
“No.”
“But we hardly ever get to play.”
“It’s still light out, and I smell rain. If it rains, our only cover will be knocked out of the air in an instant” The second voice rumbled.
“It’s not going to rain. It hasn’t rained in months.”
“It hasn’t misted in months either. Yet, somehow here were are shrouded in fog, and you’re begging me to play- what? A game of spades? NO, Correy.”
A high growl erupted from the younger, “Hardy! You’re no fun!”
It should be noted that at this time, the child searching for the cure to boredom was sure thunder rumbled outside. A break from perusing the bookshelves revealed nothing because the air still hung thick with mist. If human eyes could have penetrated the moisture in the air, this is what they would have seen.
Past a few knolls and beyond a mesa, there was a funny-shaped ridge. It looked a little something like the spiny dorsal fin of man’s favorite lake fish. Just then, the pokey ridge uncurled itself and stood upright. Yes, I mean the ridge itself. It wasn’t a troll or an evil giant. It was a baby mountain, so to speak, not so infantile as a boulder but still quite childish. This may help you understand why he was somewhat impatient with Hardy, who was much older.
“Always the scene and never seen, Correy. It’s just how things are.”
“We won’t be seen. You know there’s no one out by the table, and the people can hardly see any farther than they can reach with their tiny arms.”
To the east of Correy, a large cliff jutting out of the rolling hills unfolded itself. First, he rose upward slightly, as a person would after crouching, and then literally unbent and rose to triple his original height.
Correy bounced a little where he stood, and stones and pebbles fell to the grown. “Do you see anything way up there?”
“Airplane headed north.” Hardy ducked his top just into the mist. “The fog is thick, but there are clouds in the west.”
“It’s not going to rain, Hardy. Don’t be paranoid.”
Hardy didn’t respond right away. Finally, he conceded, “If I see, hear or even smell one raindrop, you will bound back to your place instantly. Understand?”
Correy nodded his uneven head-like crag and began walking south.
Hardy took one more good long look in all directions and then padded very softly toward the game table. He arrived just after Correy, though the young mountain hadn’t gone cautiously at all. A tall and very thin spire sauntered up and greeted them as they arrived.
“Nice day for a game?” He seemed about Hardy’s age but less severe. Not that he was jocular by any means, he just didn’t appear to care very much about anything in particular. They talked about the weather (nearly the only topic of conversation for grown mountains). Then several minutes later, with no warning, a fat rock parted the fog from the south. He must have been amazingly agile for his size. It was challenging to tell if he was wider than he was tall between his protruding out here and his jutting upward there.
There was more chatting about the weather, including a few grunts from Hardy about the chance of rain. Then, as if cued, each of the four rock formations silently found a spot around the mesa and laid out their first spade. Each mountain brought forth a roughly triangular rock. There was a competitive but gentlemanly discussion about which stone tool could move the most dirt and why. It was generally agreed that the fat one, named Rugg, had the best spade. No big deal, that was just the first round.
They all handed their rocky tools over to Rugg, who tucked them in a crevice somewhere. He would use them in the early rounds of another game. Without much delay, each precipice presented another spade. Again, Rugg’s tool was more impressive than the rest, so he collected the others and stowed them away. It was evident that the jagged cube was feeling pretty smug about the spades he had hidden in his person that day.
They continued to play hand after hand of their spades, each trying to play one that would outdo the rest while saving their best for later rounds. Hardy and Lank, the spindly one, each won a round or two. Rugg was getting smugger with every hand, evidently positive he would win today. Hardy turned his nose to the west.
“It’s going to rain soon. This needs to be the last round so we can all get home before the fog clears.”
“Winner takes all?” None of the crags were surprised when Rugg suggested it.
“Yes,” Correy answered a little too quickly for Rugg’s liking. He tried to play it cool. “Might as well, right?”
Rugg sized him up for a moment but decided he wasn’t threatened by the youngster.
Hardy nodded, and Lank agreed with “why not?’ and a shrug.
Each rock eyed the others. Hardy’s gaze shifted left toward the western sky. It was growing darker, and so was his mood. “Let’s get to it.”
One last look at their opponents, and they all laid down their spades. Thunder rumbled, and so did Rugg, who stood up and roared. “No way! Who did you win that from? You little sneak!” His eyes narrowed accusingly at Correy, and he awaited an answer.
“I made it! Hardy here is always so paranoid that I haven’t been able to play anyone in months. So I’ve had plenty of time on my hands to- “
“STOP.” The urgent whisper stilled the older crags, but Correy turned to face Hardy.
“What now, Hardy? The thunder is still way off.”
“Sh!” Hardy answered without moving, and Correy began to wonder if it really was something serious. He turned slowly toward Hardy and then followed his gaze down to the northwest. Correy found that a few first raindrops had cleared a patch of open air in the fog. Not only that, but through the gap, he could see the little town. In that town, he saw a yard with a house with a window. At that window was a child gazing up toward their table. Correy froze.
Lank, who was watching the coming fog out of his peripheral vision, whispered, “Break in three…two…
…
…one.”
Have you ever seen mountains tip-toe? Well, at that moment, behind the protection of the remaining mist, all the crags turned and walked ever so nimbly to their places. They stooped, slouched, curled, and lay down, but not before Correy turned and gazed at two little eyes squinting through the mist. He waited for another patch of fog and then shrunk into place.
In the house, the child had gotten bored with the book that had been pulled off the shelf. However, looking out the window held some interest. A few raindrops were falling and the fog was clearing slightly. For the most part, the yellow side of the butte was the only thing peeping through. But once or twice, the child imagined a table full of giants were out there playing a friendly game. “How silly,” the grownups said with a chuckle. But the child never again minded when the weather made visibility low. From that day on, the child felt that even if there wasn’t much to do outside, maybe someone was out there able to enjoy it.
