Digging for Stones
He wasn’t unhappy. He wasn’t entirely sure why they spent every day with their hands in the water, digging through the little rocks at the bottom, but since everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, he never said anything. He was with friends. They were happy.
There was always a sense of someone looming further into the tunnel, out of the sun like a shadow, but the boy didn’t give it much thought. He kept his eyes down, watching the muddy water run away from the brown, black and grey stones in his palms. It wasn’t until his handful shined back at him that the shadow came into view. It was tall and angry, face creased with age and wrinkled with irritation. It grabbed the boy’s arm and smiled. That’s when the boy became a man.
He realised the others around him weren’t friends, but co-workers. They kept their eyes down, too, when more and more scoops revealed diamonds, fresh from the water’s bed. He wanted to keep those little gems, so crystal against his grubby, bleeding hands.
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TheDreamSequence is a project that turns dream content into flash fiction. To read more or follow the blog, click here.