An Angry Rock was sitting there all alone, and I wondered how did it get there? How does anything or anyone get where we are? I thought.
It all began one fine afternoon, exploring while on a needed respite from work. I came across a path, a little rough, enough to be thankful for the hiking boots I wore. As I hiked closer to this towering boulder, my curiosity stirred my imagination; I hoped it would not choose this time to wobble as I so desired to see what was on the other side of the bending road ahead.
As I got under the dark statue-like figure above, it appeared to have a face, shouting, “Who goes there?” Do I dare to continue?
Would you?
The rocks in that part of the world have been known to answer…;)
LikeLiked by 1 person
How could you not continue 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
For sure but it made a twist in my clumsy attempt of a story!
LikeLiked by 1 person
As far as continuing my walk goes, I’d be caught between wanting to know more about that rock and wanting to know less about it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I would peek around while keeping one eye on that ton above.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sounds a bit like Ozymandias; I’d say hi politely, then go on carefully in the hope that if it did mean malice, then like the rock in Shelley’s poem, this stone would be all tantrum with no trunk to stand on.
LikeLike