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The sun beat down on the world in endless waves of heat. Fresh tides brought in cooling air. The sands around him move with the warming winds. It’s a beautiful sight, but not one he hadn’t seen before.
It was this time of the year again. The time when he grew hot from the sunrays, where ocean foam, lukewarm, splashed upon him.
Nothing more than a stone on the beach. Too heavy to be washed away in the ocean, but too small to be anything of importance.
Almost a millennium undisturbed. It was quite calming. Watching the seasons change everything, slow shifts day-by-day. There was nothing to do other than to watch, to observe and take in everything around him.
At least he wasn’t alone.
Another rock stood quite far to the right of him, but enough to occupy a large portion of his vision. It would be more accurate to call it a boulder. Sleek and black, it would be a complete lie to say he wasn’t beautiful
He had scorned him at first. Curiosity above all else, he had wished to know what lay beyond that boulder for the longest time. The boulders stuck out like a sore thumb on the gleaming oasis of sand. Was there a view more beautiful than this, obscured by that thing? Unfortunately, he would never know. He still doesn’t know.
The thing is, anger eventually burns out with time. Even if he hated to see that damn thing in his sights every day, there was only so much he could hate about it. The smoothness of his surface, the reflectivity of his body, the size of his stature. Really, even if he ranted and ranted all day, thinking up all new types of traits that he’d despised, it was natural he’d run out of material to keep the fire of his contempt blazing.
After that, all that was left was soot, the remains of his frustration, reduced to nothing but ashes. Time to dwell on his thoughts and feelings. A neutrality that inspired neither hate nor love. Just a constant calm, like the equilibrium the surface of the ocean naturally settles into. Flat, sometimes disturbed by the winds or waves, sometimes turbid with sand. But eventually, it would always flatten out again, sediment slowing to the ocean floor, waters becoming clear.
At that point, Kim Dokja eventually came to a conclusion. One that was a little annoying to bear. Had he really hated that boulder? Or was he simply bored? An anger brought on by the boredom he had endured for countless centuries.
As a rock, there was nothing for him to do other than to observe things. Anything that came into his sights would evoke a feeling. The black, beautiful, sleek boulder was no different. It had been there as long as he was. It was stupid of him to only consider his own feelings. Was he also scorned by that same boulder?
It’s not like he’d ever know. Rocks couldn’t talk. That was unfortunate. He’d be talking about all types of things if he could. About the seagull feces that had stained his head and kept growing, until the rain finally washed it off. About the countless days that it had hailed, solid chunks of ice falling from the sky, colliding with him endlessly. About the migratory birds that come here every now and then, when the sun starts peeking through the looming clouds.
But who would he tell his thoughts to? Nothing stayed long enough for them to listen to him. To spare a thought to his feeble self.
The boulder had more luck. Maybe it was because of how smooth he was. Or how striking his color was against the pale sand. Birds would flock to him, whenever they could. Crustaceans of all sorts would gather around him. During egg-laying season, turtles would find themselves drawn to the sand closest to him.
It was perhaps that reason that led Kim Dokja to hate him for so long. What did he have that I didn’t? This was the only constant in all his observations. Even as he glanced at the orange sunset each day, this thought would linger at the back of his mind. Still, he doesn’t feel such resentment towards him now. He’s grown out of it.
Really, if he could, he’d talk to him. He’d ask him about his days. About his perspective on the trembling waves.
They’d surely have a lot to talk about. Living for so long, of course they’d be able to chat for a while. For possibly hundreds of days they’d talk.
Perspectives are a fickle thing. Kim Dokja has realized that throughout his life. He’d changed his mind on many things, his opinions slowly eroding with the waves. Talking with that boulder would give him relief from his own voice pinging inside his head, listing down observations and things of note each day. He’d be able to glean a new direction on the days that streamed by.
He found the sun the most beautiful thing of all in the time he’d been on this earth. But, perhaps, the boulder had a different opinion. One that would be something Kim Dokja never considered.
The swirling tides, maybe? Or the birds that would fly above, never glancing in their direction—unknowing of the existences that lay below. Or maybe even something he considered disgusting—the excrement from birds after they feasted on the fish in the sea.
It’s a shame he’ll never know. Doomed to such an existence—forced to perceive but not to act, he’d remain like this, until time stopped flowing. He hasn’t kept track of the time since he’d started living, but that wouldn’t matter at all. It’s not like it’d change anything about his situation.
Well, it wasn’t so bad. Each day, he had a chance to look at sights that he’d seen for a millennium. But there would always be something different that he hadn’t noticed before. The texture of the trees far away from him. The blue that melded into orange as the moon began to creep up in the sky. Different shapes of clouds, forming and dissipating throughout the day. The gleam and shimmer of the boulder beside him, standing despite the wear of time.
The only thing he’d change was how lonely this existence was. Even with the presence of the living near him occasionally—birds, turtles, crabs, clams—they lived their lives as if he weren’t there. They would never understand an existence born just to observe. After all, their end goal was to procreate.
But perhaps the boulder felt the same.
Maybe, just maybe, having the boulder beside him is enough.