Mount Dragon

by Vera Nazarian

(an excerpt)

The man stopped at the base of my lower extremities.

Like a puppet, he lowered himself in the crevice between my index stone claw and the slab of granite the weight of which held me down to the earth. He put his microscopic upper appendages forward upon my polished gleaming surface, and willed with all his tiny being for me to attend to him.

I decided to humor both of us.

I answered directly into his mind.

"Go to hell, idiot," I said, using an astringent tongue he'd understand, "I am but a monumental slab of granite, and you, mortality, are like one of the droppings of a fairly large corpulent deity--an ephemeral honor I would rather pass me by."

"And yet, you speak to me, mountain," said the mote of humanity, "Why is that?"


[Talebones #14]

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