Rock of Ages
“Yahtzee!!” echoed once again through the small kitchen. Simon and his Grandmother were playing the old family favorite and he was leading her by a wide margin.
“Boy, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were pullin’ a fast one on me. That’s the third yahtzee you got this game.”
Simon looked at her with his big innocent hazel eyes and simpered, “Me cheat Granny? Would I ever do that?”
She leaned forward, her nose almost touching his, “Boy, I’ve been living here four years now and I have never seen a kid get hisself into more trouble. Yea, I think you might.”
He pulled back moodily, “Aw Granny. I don’t get in trouble that often.”
“No, you’re right.” She said with a piercing glance in his direction. “You always seem to find a way of gettin’ out of the switch.”
Her face shone with suppressed anger and then started muttering to herself, “Eatin’ worms on a bet, pullin’ the fire alarms. I never seen such a boy.”
The fierceness erupted again, “And what ever possessed you to undo all the bolts on your teacher’s chair? You know poor Mrs. Carson is bigger than a prize Guernsey . She could’ve hurt herself bad.”
Gertrude had to turn away from her favorite grandchild and compose herself. As a girl she had pulled a prank or two. To this day no one in Vinton knew who put the pastor’s collar on Mr. Sutton’s boar and set it running through the revival meeting. That travelling preacher was telling the story of the demons in the herd of swine. She chuckled to herself at the memory. The old folks were swearing up a storm and the young ones thought the Devil himself had come to break-up the Lord’s work. Simon had gotten it from her no doubt. But she had to be firm with him.
“You mark my words, straighten your ways child or trouble’ll come of it.”
“Thanks Granny. I’ll remember that. Now, it’s your turn.”
Gertrude reached out and took the three white, one red and one electric blue dice. Like everything else in the little house, they were the remnants and mismatched pieces of a once proud home mixed with oddments and hand-me-downs. Grace had been able to hold things together and keep her little family clothed and fed. But it hadn’t been easy or perfect. Even with Gertrude helping it was impossible to watch the boy all the time. Her once kind and helpful son had become a handful.
With a flick of her wrist, Gertrude threw the dice onto the checkered table cloth.
5…5…2…1…4
She left the pair and shook vigorously before again tossing the cubes.
5…5…5…6…5
Only a yahtzee would bring her even with the boy but luck had not been her friend all evening. She took the blue die, breathed on it, and dropped the cube onto the table. It should have bounced and tumbled briefly. Instead it began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until both players were staring dumbfounded. Gertrude reached out and flattened the die with her palm.
“If that aint the dangdest thing.” She whispered.
“Don’t forget our bet now.” He teased.
She lifted her hand slowly and revealed a…4.
Simon whooped loudly. “Ha! I win again. Breakfast in bed tomorrow morning Granny. You know how I like my eggs and don’t burn the toast.”
He leapt up from the table, grabbed the blue die and left the room singing at the top of his lungs, “Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care…”
Once in his room, Simon’s joy evaporated. He knew it was wrong to cheat at games but Granny had beaten him every time for years. Just once he wanted to win. And win he did.
Where the idea to use his stone as a die came from was a complete mystery to Simon. He was thinking about the game as Granny pulled out the pieces. The dice seemed to hate him. They never fell the way he wanted. He had reached into his pocket and was fiddling with the stone which he always kept at hand when it suddenly felt soft. It was like clay and Simon could mold it into whatever he wanted. Almost in a dream he pushed and squeezed until it was just the right shape. It was insane that this rock could become a die but sure enough, when he pulled it out of the jeans pocket, there sat a perfect shiny blue cube with golden dots on each face.
He quietly traded the blue piece for a yellow one while Granny searched for a pencil. Once they started the game it seemed he could do no wrong. Every throw brought him high scores and left her with nothing. The blue die was always the last to settle down and gave Simon exactly what he needed. Once he even broke a yahtzee and tossed again, just to see what would happen. He didn’t even have to look and he knew the matching three had come up once more.
Saturday morning he lay on the couch eating the scrambled eggs, toast, ham and milk that Granny had brought him. It was perfectly cooked. The sun was shining through the window, some birds were having a lively conversation and Simon was miserable. He couldn’t enjoy the food knowing that he hadn’t won fairly. Yet he just could not see how he had done it. He couldn’t control the die. It wasn’t like he had some mind powers that would let him make it fall the way he wanted. But deep down he knew, knew as well as he did his own name, that that stone was doing whatever he wished.
Simon climbed out of bed and took the food to his Grandmother’s room. She was quietly reading her scriptures and looked surprised when he walked in.
“What’s this boy? That’s your breakfast, you won.”
“No Granny, you have it. I got a bunch of work to do and ain’t very hungry anyway.”
He set the tray down on her nightstand and rushed out before she could object. It didn’t completely ease his conscience but did make that inner voice just quiet enough for him to ignore. Besides, there was a new adventure waiting for him. This stone was more than a good luck charm after all and he wanted to find out what.
An hour later, Simon ditched his bicycle and walked into a small glade, miles from home. This was one of his special places. Somewhere he could be alone. No one ever came to this corner of the park because it was thought to be cursed. Folktales said a woman had been brutally murdered on this very spot a hundred and fifty years prior. Her skin was flayed off with a magical silver knife and hung to dry so as to make leather for a witch’s drum. Her bones were used for the bracing and the sinews made fine thread. That drum was supposed to have the power of raising demons to do your bidding and reveal the hiding place of buried treasures. Simon didn’t believe the tales. He liked the spot because it was safe from prying eyes. And because the supposed witches in that horrible crime, if it happened, were his kin Joseph and Jonathan Peters. Still, he couldn’t help but think of that fabulous treasure they were supposed to have.
More cautious than ever he looked to be sure no one else was around. Then, reaching into his pocket, Simon pulled out the stone. For a moment he was surprised but wasn’t sure why. It looked exactly as it always had before, a small egg of electric blue. Only then did he realize that it should have been a die. Sometime during his ride, the stone had transformed itself.
“Okay, there’s something special about you…isn’t there?” he said to the rock in his hand.
What happened next was beyond astounding. The stone melted. There was no heat, it simply turned liquid and oozed between his fingers. Simon yelled and shook his hand violently, like he had been stung by a bee. Great drops of flaming blue muck splashed over the glen. Wherever some of the “stone” landed it spread over the surface and soaked in. For an instant everything was lit by a cold silvery blue light which faded quickly.
His breath came in ragged gasps, as if he had just run a hundred miles. An impenetrable darkness flooded the trees though Simon knew it was not yet noon. Then, tiny as distant stars, lights began to appear from every rock, tree and bush around. They floated lazily in the air, circling on the breeze. Occasionally two would meet and join together but most danced to some unheard tune, Simon twisting in their midst, trying to see everything.
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