The Bleeding Rock
Jennifer E. Miller
I finished up at the doctor's office and was on my way out. I looked out the window from the fourth floor and noticed a large rock across the street. It was massive, twenty feet in diameter, and round with jagged edged. Not smooth like a stone, but spiky like shale. It was a dark color, I'd call it charcoal. I don't know why I noticed it just then. The sun wasn't shining on it; in fact it was an overcast day. Perhaps with the leaves on the trees gone, the bare branches allowed me to view it. The shape was certainly unusual. My eyes were drawn to some sort of vine climbing up. The plant's leaves had turn bright red. They clung to the rock making a little formation; like a continent on a globe. I liked its natural beauty nestled amongst the modern buildings, roads, and cars.
I stared at it for a few minutes intrigued. Intrigued why I bothered to even stop to observe it more than just a passing glance. Why the red vine reminded me of blood. Why I thought the rock was bleeding. Was it hurt? Sad? Doomed? Was that rock scheduled to be demolished next spring and this was it's final autumn and winter? I wondered why it wanted me to notice. Did anyone else notice this spherical formation?
Looking at the surroundings outside, the wind was scattering dried leaves about. It was a cool day and I imagined touching the rock's cool surface. I bet in the summer it was warm from the heat of the midday sun.
Examining the rock further from the window I noticed there was no bird droppings on this rock. Strange as there were plenty of trees to welcome feathered friends. Perhaps the birds steered clear of it. Did the rock hold some magical powers? It was situated near a doctor's office, which was near a hospital. A healing rock? I felt a chill when I thought that.
I took the elevator to the first floor, walked out the building to my car. The wind continued to blow and now, I not only saw the leaves, but heard them scamper across the pavement. Soon I arrived at my vehicle, unlocked it, and climbed inside. Starting the engine, I looked around to see which side of the parking lot I should exit on. The traffic was heavier on the right so I went left. Reaching the outlet I stopped to check for oncoming cars. I looked right, then left, then center. The bleeding rock was directly in front of me. Looming. I had coincidentally steered myself in its direction. The rock seemed like it was trying to tell me something. Begging me to stop and observe it further. Red vine leaves danced in the breeze. Taunting me to stay. But I left.
I don't know why I notice that big round rock. Bleeding for something. Watching for people who notice it.
Copyright 2016 Jennifer E. Miller