I have been on the road for years. I have crawled through the driest of deserts, where my sweat and urine were the ultimate forms of hydration. I sliced through the most humid of jungles, there was not a single day where mosquitoes weren’t sucking on me. I have ascended to tops of the coldest mountains, where my breath would freeze in front of me. All of this, to search for the holy rocks.
These rocks are found anywhere in the world, for anyone to find them. Holy rocks however, can only be seen by a feeling of intense connection; some have describe it as the holy rock shining and glowing. I describe it as, a rock that stands out and your eyes can’t pause to blink. It’s a stare between you and the rock.
Mine was at a empty parking lot. I was in a rush to get home so I left the rock with no eyes. My biggest regret. Unbelievably, not picking up this small insignificant rock has lead me to the darkest of feelings. Once, I rejected the calls of this rock; lunacy creeped in and sanity walked around busy. I suffered through the internal shrieks that the rock cried out. The rock called my name; never have I hated a name, so intensely, more than my own.
My apprehension, that this all could be fixed by picking up the rock, brought me back to the place. Funny. Have you ever seen the same rock? Holy rocks are no exception, it had already gone.
You miss out on capturing them the first time, they move to a new location and so, the person is now cursed by the holy rocks.
That is what my friend said.
I am that person, now doomed to be cursed by a rock. This rock only talks in riddles and in sentences, that make no sense. There is no logic to what it says and these are the only clues that it will give. I once went to Panama because one of the rock’s riddle said “what can be found in your mouth and still connect the oceans of the world” hence the Panama Canal. Good news, the rock was there, it screamed out my name louder than it ever has. Bad news, the rock was on the side of a cliff.
These holy rocks are clearly blessed by the will of God because how does a rock get there on it’s own. I had to pray that when I do find it, that it is actually at place I can reach.
Holy rocks provide nothing, they are not worth any monetary value. It is just a rock. That “has been with you through your past lives and entire generations” so my friend says.
Do I care? Not the slightest bit, the rock is no more than a glorified good luck charm.
I could stop and live with the constant noise of the holy rocks. If only, it didn’t drive me so crazy. I am ready to cut off my ears; which is the reason I am here today; to donate my ear canals and voluntarily go deaf.
I have asked around to see if this is the way to go; they said that the noise is all in my head and that I was insane. I don’t care.I need to do this. I am tired of hearing my name.
I have gone mad.
I implore to anyone who may hear this, never doubt the rock on the street calling out for attention; seize it the first time it appears and embrace it every chance you get.
Please heed my warning.
I promise you will thank me.