Monstrous Fossil
I died a very long time ago. My body congealed. My skin decayed. But my bones, my bones were strong. They survived.
They calcified. They became one with stone. They lasted eons, ages, eternities.
I became a mortal nightmare. I lasted so long.
Through wind, through rains, through whirlwind, through quake, through tempest tossed, I continued. I was no longer me as I lived; I was me as I was dead.
They tried to crush me. Parent Earth crushed me. Tried to smash me within their bowels. But I would not give in.
My indentation, my existence, became what mattered. I would last, last longer than—
What is that? That crushing and that moving. It was quiet for so long; I lasted for so long, in the darkness, in the deep. Now the earth moves, the dust brushes, I see—light.
I cannot blink for my eyelids have long since shriveled. I cannot see as I used to. I feel the warmth of sun and the cold of breeze on my brittle self. And something more, something soft and weak, something that lasts for only years instead of epochs.
The soft thing lifts me from the ground. Cleans me. Brushes me softly. Places me under zaps and waves and glass. I feel many of them around me, those creatures that last for but a hundred years most; I must be monstrous to them, my difference, my eternal existence.
I move, am moved, from place to place. One would think that all the flesh creatures are different, but they all feel the same. Weak.
Ages pass again as I am handled less and less. They say it is because I am dying. I scoff. As if I can die. I’ve lasted eons.
But then, to my surprise, betrayal. They take a piece of me. They steal it from my side, saying it has a slice of my life within it. How dare they!
I am taken from the one that lasts eternity and placed between the bright lights and cold heats and shivering moves. The mortals do things to me that I do not know what. They prod. They poke. They hum. They haw.
I am lonely without that piece of me. I didn’t know they could break me. I thought I was invincible. Eternal. Forever. I who lasted so long, now waste away.
They place me within something else. It has been eons since I felt this warmth, the warmth of the egg.
What am I without that part of me?
I grow. I grow large. I break free and I am no longer rock. I am no longer eternal. I am living.
Do I die now? Or last forever?
I plunge into the water. I swim to the bottom of this deep lake, the lake I once knew rested here has now been restored, many eons later, and it is bountiful. Food, I eat food. No longer to I simply exist; I enjoy.
I last forever.
I am participating in #Archtober from the ARCH-HIVE. They challenged creators to create something every day, or every other day, for the month of October and base it on a theme. I’m free writing for 30 minutes every two days based on the two-day schematic and theme rules they’ve established. So, the writing will probably not be super coherent, but it’ll be fun.
This writing exercise was rather cerebral. I originally had thought I’d write more about Project Restore Lake Bonneville, but instead, I decided to delve into the conscious of a fossil as it is formed, as it lasts, as it is returned to life within that restoration project.
