Obsidian
By Robert Mariner, East Sierra Branch
I awoke one day when I was chipped off a large boulder.
I was carefully flaked into my present form a few days later. The artisan was a young man, dark-haired, bronze-skinned. Then I was put into a leather pouch.
Somehow I fell into some sand, and for years wind blew dust across me, now hiding me from the sunlight, now exposing me to the sun again.
One day another person picked me up. Brought me to the Desert Museum, where I’m now with others of my kind. Most are older, some younger. Oh, the stories!
I’m an arrowhead.
Robert Mariner, a frequent contributor to
socalwritershowcase.com,
specializes in science fiction.