The Standing of the Stones by Jeanette Amlie
She came upon them in the fading light. They were old, so very old. They lie in a jumbled heap as if some giant had used them for bowling pins. She felt a tingle run through her as she stroked them gently with her fingers. Hues of chartreuse and amber lichen patterned their surface adding to the richness of the time etched stone. She even thought she saw some kind of writing on them.
Just then the moon began to crest the far ridge in the east and its cool light washed over the massive stones, defining their curves and edges. Was it her imagination playing tricks on her or did she feel something…like an almost imperceptible seismic tremor? No, it wasn’t the earth, it was the stones that lay upon it!
Startled, she moved back to get her bearing. It couldn’t be! They were moving! They must have weighted tons and yet there was no doubt, they were moving. She sat down on a small patch of grass and watched in amazement. She didn’t know how long she was there. Was it hours? She was mesmerized by this impossible sight. They were slowly stacking themselves in an upright formation. leaning on each other to make an angular arch, which the moon shone through.
Eventually it was still again, except for a slight breeze rustling the dry branches. She didn’t know what to do. There was nothing to do and no one to tell. Who would believe her anyway? So she joined her hands and made a deep bow to the stones and the moon shining through them. Then she turned to walk home.
Tomorrow she could return in the light of day to see if it really happened, to see if they were still standing….or had they been that way all along?