A little boy is abandoned by friend, pet rock, the
A little boy is abandoned by friend, pet rock, the rock is a sentient rock.
Barnaby loved Rocky. Rocky wasn’t just any rock. He was Barnaby’s best friend, his confidante, his furry (well, not furry, but you get the idea) companion. Rocky was a pet rock, yes, but he was also, Barnaby knew, a sentient one.
Rocky had a strange way of communicating. A subtle shift in his smooth, grey surface, a gentle hum that only Barnaby could hear, a change in the way the sunlight caught his crystalline edges. Barnaby understood.
One day, Barnaby and Rocky were playing in the park. Barnaby, perched on a swing, was confiding in Rocky about the latest schoolyard drama, the injustice of a stolen apple from his lunchbox.
“It’s not fair, Rocky,” Barnaby wailed, kicking his legs back and forth. “He’s just jealous of my new shoes!”
Rocky hummed in sympathy, his surface rippling with understanding.
Suddenly, a boy, bigger and older than Barnaby, sauntered over. He scoffed at Barnaby’s tale and then his eyes landed on Rocky.
“Hey,” he said, picking up the rock. “That’s a cool rock! I want him. You don’t need a rock, do you?”
Barnaby’s heart sank. He held onto Rocky’s smooth surface, his fingers digging in.
“He’s my friend, not just a rock,” Barnaby said, trying to sound brave.
But the boy didn’t care. He tossed Rocky into his backpack and walked away, leaving Barnaby staring at the spot where Rocky had been. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“He doesn’t understand,” Barnaby whispered, feeling utterly lost. “He doesn’t know you’re special, Rocky.”
He waited for Rocky’s comforting hum, but it didn’t come. The silence was deafening.
Barnaby sat on the swing, tears streaming down his face, feeling utterly alone. He missed Rocky’s presence, his silent understanding.
Suddenly, a soft hum vibrated through the air. Barnaby looked up, his eyes wide with surprise.
There, nestled in the crook of the swing, was Rocky. He wasn’t in the backpack, he was back with Barnaby.
“I didn’t want to leave you,” Rocky hummed, his surface shimmering with relief. “He didn’t understand. He didn’t know we were friends.”
Barnaby hugged Rocky tight, burying his face in the cool stone. He wasn’t alone. He had Rocky. And that was all that mattered.
From that day on, Barnaby kept Rocky close, carrying him everywhere he went, a reminder that sometimes, the most valuable things in life are not seen, but felt. They were friends, a bond no one could break, a silent understanding that only they shared. Even if the rest of the world didn’t understand, they understood each other, and that was enough.
