Elani collected stones from the creek and placed them around the tree trunk. She discovered thin pieces of mica and she polished them with her sleeves until they glowed like cracked diamonds. They were her favorites. She also liked the smooth round stones that she shifted in her hands like marbles. She called the collection of stones her garden, and it was prettier than you’d think, with them just being stones. There was a pattern there you wouldn’t otherwise notice, of color and size and shape. Neither of the boys dare touch it because she was the only one who could see the pattern before it was there. That was the special thing about Elani: she could see things no one else could until it was right there in front of you.
Steven Baird 1 Minute
Published by Steven Baird
Writer, amateur photographer, ad compositor and chicken herder. View all posts by Steven Baird