The Stone
“Psst, boy.”
Adrian glanced toward the alley, where an old man stood hunched against a brick wall.
“Boy,” he repeated. “Come here. I have something for you.”
Curious and heedless of potential danger, Adrian did as he was told. When he was close enough to get a good look at his soiled rags, and to smell that he hadn’t bathed in weeks, the man glanced sideways, as if nervous he was being watched.
“Take this.”
Adrian looked down at the man’s closed fist.
“A gift,” he said, shoving a smooth round object into Adrian’s left hand. A moment later, he darted off into the shadows.
Adrian examined his prize.
A stone.
Brow furrowed, he continued home and placed it atop a shelf. He didn’t think about it anymore that day.
Meanwhile, the stone waited.
That night, when Adrian returned to his room to sleep, he found the stone where he’d left it. He picked it up and carried it with him to bed. Beneath the moonlight spilling through the window, it seemed almost to glow. Suddenly, his imagination went wild, and he was certain this simple object could reveal the universe’s deepest secrets.
When exhaustion overtook him and he finally fell asleep, the stone was still clutched between his fingers.
He dreamed that night.
He was tumbling through the stars, falling, floating, jets like cosmic sparks shooting through space. Galaxies spiraled in the distance, galaxies of every shape and size, whirling, colliding, bursting in blinding coruscating flashes.
Adrian felt lost, but he was not afraid because he held the stone.
“The cosmos are yours now,” said the voice of the man he’d met in the alley. The universe shook with the force of his words. They were a binding, the oldest and most powerful kind.
And then he was opening his eyes, and all he could see or hear was the pale light of the moon and the chirping of crickets outside. He glanced at the ordinary-looking stone, still firmly grasped in his left hand. It felt warm.
Adrian smiled.
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