Chapter 15

The boy picked up the stone. It was red and shiny, and it felt warm to the touch. He’d found it in the town square. It had fallen on the mound of sand that lay in its center. No, fallen wasn’t the right word for it. Just as he’d been about to pass in front of the sand mound, the stone had appeared. He’d looked to the sky but had seen no birds flying by. It wasn’t as if anyone had thrown it, either. Besides, no one would ever toss out such a pretty gem. So the boy had picked it up. He didn’t tell anyone about it. He carried it around like a good luck charm. The boy didn’t have parents. No one knew who his dad was, and his mom had died giving birth to him. Since then, it had always been just him and Grandma. She called him names and had struck him on more than one occasion. It wasn’t just his grandma. Adults and children called him names and beat him. He didn’t know how to fight back. All he could do was endure the pain and spend his days running from them. And each time he did that, he saw the mountain. The peak was easy to see from his bedroom window, towering over the town. It always seemed so godlike to him. So why did no one stop to notice? There was nothing more fun than gazing up at it. On windy nights, rainy nights, nights full of moonlight, and nights with a new moon, the boy considered the mountain. And he spoke to it, within his heart. He told it what happened each day. What he liked. What he hated. He said he wanted to be stronger as tears streamed down his face. He cursed them all, loathed them all. And the mountain just towered over him, accepting his words. Every night, after night, after night… That was the boy’s only salvation. Which was why he started to think: Perhaps this stone was something the mountain had given him. He knew it was a pathetic daydream. But the strange thing was, when he held on to it, he felt courageous. Maybe it was only in his mind… The boy changed. Just a little. If they hit him, he struck back. If they called him names, he spat insults in kind. That didn’t end his torment, but it was indeed the birth of his pride. Yet. On that night, he stared up at the mountain as well. The moon was nowhere to be found. Thick clouds hid the sky, so it was pitch-black outside. And yet the boy still stared. He felt the warmth of the stone in his fist. “…Huh?” He tilted his head. He thought he’d seen the mountain glow for just a moment. He rubbed his eyes and stared again. They weren’t deceiving him. Shimmering golden particles burst from the mountain’s peak. They climbed into the sky, illuminating the underside of the black clouds. The heavens gleamed with stars. As he took them all in, he forgot to breathe. Dazzling light spread to fill the firmament. So beautiful. He’d never witnessed anything more beautiful. The town continued to slumber. The few people who were awake weren’t looking at the mountain. Save for just the one. Only that boy saw the star-filled sky. Eventually, the particles lost their sparkle. The gold light faded. The boy continued to stare at the night sky, which was once again cloaked in darkness. He was about to cry, which seemed odd. Why…? He was neither sad nor in pain… He felt such joy… The miraculous night spoke of an end, with only a single tear as compensation. Mount Agnas never rumbled again.