The Old Wanderer And The Rock Watcher

20250513

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

The life of a rock watcher was staving off mind-numbing boredom with serious internal lectures about how vital your duties were. Interspersed with long periods of staring blankly at nothing, or anything which moved.
With glances back at the rock, of course. Phil was fairly sure he’d hear if it moved, but best to be safe.
So an old man slowly shuffling across the plains was a source of bored fascination which kept Phil engrossed for hours. He hadn’t even started speculating about details like where the man was going, or why; those were best kept for after the current entertainment had ended. He simply drank the movement in.
Making sure to check on the rock at regular intervals.
At some point Phil realised that the man was walking towards him. Or possibly the rock. No way to tell, with him sitting so close to it.
The thought that he might be about to talk to someone - that is, have a conversation with someone who was listening and could talk back - was both exciting and nerve-racking. Weeks sitting alone in this empty stretch of plain did terrible things to your social fluency. And honestly, it’d never been his strong point. That was why the elders thought he might be good at rock watching.
He liked to think that he was vindicating their trust.
Finally the old man reached Phil and croaked “Salutations.”
“And to you.” Phil said politely. “Would you like to share my shade?”
It was, after all, the only shade to be had for miles.
“I would be most grateful.”
So Phil graciously shifted to let the old man have the best part of shade, and watched with great interest as the old man went through the complex and painful process of sitting down.
For a moment they sat in silence. The old man gazing at the rock, and Phil staring at the old man.
Then the old man spoke. “Does it ever sing?”
“No.” Phil said with sublime confidence.
“Not even when the wind blows?”
“No.”
“Hm.” The old man peered at him. “What are you guarding it from?”
“Eh? I’m not guarding it. I’m watching it. To make sure it doesn’t move.”
“It moves?” The old man stared back at the rock.
“It used to. Before we started watching it. So now there’s shifts.”
“Where was it moving to?” The old man squinted at the soil, as if hoping to see the trail. But the wind had worn that away before Phil was born.
“The village.” Phil gestured to the southeast, where people came to check on him and bring supplies.
“Ah. And that’s bad?”
“Can’t see how it’d be good.”
“Hm.” The old man contemplated the rock once more. “May I touch it?”
“Sure.”
So the old man got up - an even more complex process than sitting down - and closely inspected the rock. All the way around.
“I don’t think this is what I’m looking for.”
Phil shrugged and waved farewell.
Entertainment for weeks.

Prompt was “A lone, aged man wanders across the wild land searching for something.”