The dark silhouettes of the trees decorated the sunset pink sky. Each step I took left a crunching sound on the rocks and leaves beneath my feet. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a dark hole carved neatly into stone. It was a cave. I thought at the time that it would be a bad idea to enter, but it seemed so welcoming to me. So of course, I entered willingly. I actually wanted to stay for a while, the air around me so cool and crisp. So I did. I sat upon a rock in the very back of the deep cavern. It was nice, beautiful even, bright from the sunlight getting let in, beautiful rocks decorating the edges, I thought I could really fit in there.
Every day I came back to that cave, just sat alone on that same rock. Happy I finally had somewhere I could be myself. Happy to be in a cave without anyone bothering me… Until my friends started bothering me. They told me that cave was dangerous, that I shouldn’t be going there. People had disappeared in that cave, they told me. I laughed it off.
“The cave is wonderful,” I’d tell them, “it’s wonderful to me, but maybe not to you. You just wouldn’t understand.”
Tuesday, the third of March, I entered the cave after being away for a few days. Sitting on a rock, I saw a mouse scurry by. My face wrinkled into a frown. I didn’t want to share this cave, not even with a friendly mouse. But that was before a different rock moved towards the entrance. A huge rock. A boulder, even. It completely blocked the entrance to the cave, also my only way out. I didn’t know what to do. At first I was terrified, I wanted to move the rock. But then I felt like the rock was meant to be there. I was meant to be in that cave. I still had oxygen, and there was no way I could lose that.
Days went by sitting in that cave. Then the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months. I could feel oxygen slowly slipping away, but I ignored it. The rock made me feel safe and warm. I slept like a baby each night, knowing I was secure behind the boulder. Away from troubles, away from people I don’t need around. I was sure my friends were worried about me, but I didn’t care. They knew I was safe behind this rock.
The day the rock moved again, I became apprehensive. I think it was the fifteenth of June. The boulder didn’t move away, but closer to me. What if it would crush me? What if I could never escape? But it stopped, relieving me of my stress. Maybe, I thought to myself, maybe I should get out of here soon.
It moved again the next day. My lungs were burning, longing for the air that was slipping away. It was almost gone. Cold stone pressed against my back as I tried to stay as far away from the boulder as possible. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling safe anymore. As it was moving towards me, I heard a loud crack and it froze in its tracks. The cave was getting too small for the rock, and it cracked on the edge. I supposed that meant it would be taking a break from moving until it healed. In that moment, I knew I had to escape while I still could. I sprinted towards the rock and leapt for its side, but it didn’t budge. It just cracked even more. That’s when I had to think to myself: Did I want to escape by breaking this rock or just moving it? Though it seemed like it wanted to kill me, it kept me safe all the while. So I made the decision to wait until it healed before I moved it and easily escaped.
After days of waiting patiently, the crack was barely healed. I was in desperate need of oxygen, my lungs felt like they were on fire, and there was no way to escape unless I broke the rock. No matter how much I didn’t want to, I had no other choice. After sobbing until I was gasping for breath, I walked over to say a nice goodbye to the rock that had been there for me for so long. But as soon as I placed one little finger upon its smooth, cool surface, it shattered into a million tiny pieces until it was just a pile of pebbles. Oxygen flowed in like a tidal wave, filling my lungs with precious air. I was free.
But the rock was left broken, and I didn’t want that. It had been so good to me. But as soon as I tried to pick up the pieces, a pebble shard slit my palm and I cried in pain. I left the rock as I should have, and went home.
Oxygen healed me. Oxygen cleansed my lungs with its sweet, cool freshness. I felt free and beautiful again. I missed the protection of the rock for a while, but I soon realized I didn’t need protection. I could face the world on my own, sided by nothing but the fresh air I breathe.