II

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Section two.

The sun peeked out from above the trees encircling the pond, giving a sheen to the reflection of a dull blue sky. A gentle warm light slinkred through the grass inside, illuminating the pond with a mild yellow. The song of birds could be heard, welcoming each other into a new day.

As birds began their song, a figure sat on the pond’s boundary, sifting through the sediment once more. He had been sitting here for a long while, now free of the pressure he’d faced the day before. He wondered why he dreamt of what he did, what its meaning was and why it was still so clear to him. He couldn’t remember the last time that a dream presented itself in such clarity.

Until the flame appeared, most of the boy’s mornings had been enveloped with darkness. Aside from the scant ray of light entering via his door, he’d always awakened to a dark sky. Recently, the flame had helped with that, but also disrupted his routine.

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He was sifting through the sediment for stones similar to those he found before. So far he’d unearthed about two with similar outward appearances, but he wasn’t sure if they would work. His mind wandered, contemplating if his success the night before was because of his persistence or if it could be written off as luck. He didn’t want to get consumed in this confusing line of thought, so he covered the hole he’d dug and took the two rocks with him back to his shack.

Kneeling in the center of his home, he grasped the two stones again. In a corner of the room were his broken tools, sticks with broken fibers tied to stones, etc. He had yet to repair any of them as whenever he needed to, he just went and made new variants. He would need these tools for his more recent ideas, so he was exceedingly anxious to get his repairing done. Though these tools weren’t finished, he had no need to look for more resources. He used his stick-like rock and tied it to a very thick branch, almost like a knife, though quite blunt.

Leaving his shack, he headed to the cliff wall. This morning, he’d noticed that not all stones reacted the same way when producing sparks. Some didn’t cooperate as they were too brittle or too hard. The cliff wall and his rock were suitable, but he wasn’t sure where else he could get similar kinds of rocks in the future. He brought his new tool up and held it like a stake.

A ‘ding’ rang out as he struck the wall firmly, a strong backlash reverberating through his hand. The “stake” nearly flew out of his hand. He kept at it, and eventually, a stone of almost equal length appeared in his hands. By now, his hand was aching from the abuse. Although, he wasn’t aiming for only one of these stones, he wanted at least two more.

Once he finished, his hand was completely numb, but he had enough energy to make his way home, grimacing due to the pain. Greeted by the loyal flame beckoning him to sit down, he placed his tools on the ground beside him and stared almost lovingly at the flame. A shame that a hug wasn’t an option unless he didn’t want his clothing anymore. Though it wasn’t particularly late, he decided to rest until tomorrow after eating.