The Seventh Stone

by Darrel Bird

whirlwind began to dig the ground out from the edge of the dome a little bit at a time. The sand swirled up in front of them in tiny golden particles that glittered, but it didn’t bother their eyes.

  Finally they stopped, and there was a much larger hole in the ground. Isabelle was afraid someone would see the hole in the ground.

  “Here, we better drag some weeds over and cover this up so no one will know.”

  Darkness had begun to fall over the land of the dim sky under the dome; the painted sun under the painted sky did not change, it just grew dimmer and dimmer. The darkness seemed to reach out with clutching hands to stifle out their very lives.

  “Ok, weeds we got plenty of. My dad says he fights weeds all week, and it wears him out.”

  They pulled weeds and put them over the hole, “Its time for us to go, Jackie. We can come back tomorrow.”

  “Ok.” They ran swiftly back through the village until they came to Isabelle’s house.

  “See you later, Jackie. I love you.”

  “Love you, bye.”

  She ran into the kitchen where her mother was preparing supper, “What did you two do today?” her mother asked.

  “Oh, just walked around.”

  “Ok, wash up for supper.”

  Isabelle felt bad because she didn’t tell her mother all of it, but she was afraid her mother would not let them return to the edge of the dome.

  That night she dreamed again that the sky moved and the birds flew around in it, not like the sky and birds of this world that never moved an inch. The dream sky was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  When she awoke, she ran out of the house to look to look up at the sky, but was disappointed as the same old sky she had seen all her life just sat there looking all gray and washed out. The birds did not flap their wings, the clouds in the sky did not move, and her heart felt oppressed with the disappointment.

  The next day, as she carried the heavy stone to the post, she decided to confide in her parents about her dream, so when they sat down to their supper of weed pods, she told them the dream.

  “Ellen says we should not be dreamers, but to work hard for the Prince to return.” Her father told her and instructed her to read the red books of the old tribe that contained the words of Ellen.

  “But how will we know when we have worked hard enough for the Prince to return, Dad?”

  “I don’t know, child, but we must try harder every day. Look, the seventh stone grows heavier and heavier each time we place it on the post; the time grows near.”

  “I’m tired of carrying that old stone, Dad. How come the people on the other side of the fence wall have no stone?”

  “Hush, child; Ellen says we must not complain. The people on the other side will not be taken to the home world of the Prince because they have no stone. Ellen says we must always be especially mindful of the day of the seventh stone.”

  The day after the fourth stone had been placed, Jackie came rushing in. “Isabelle, let’s go.”

  “In a minute, Jackie, as soon as I finish the chores, then we’ll go. I have to fold the clothes.”

  As Isabelle folded clothes, Jackie sat on the bed and swung her legs impatiently.

  “Ellen says we should not be impatient, you know,” Isabelle reminded her.

  “Oh, what does that old Ellen know? I want to do exciting things like sing.”

  “Sing?”

  “Yes, this time I want to sing to the sands, I think it will move faster.”

  Isabelle looked around her fearfully and closed the door. “Shhhh…someone will hear you.”

  “I don’t care, I want to go and sing!” Jackie pouted and swung her legs even faster.

  Isabelle’s mother had heard part of the conversation as she passed by their door, doing housework.

  “You children can sing at the setting of the seventh stone, but today you must do your work.”

  “Ok Mom, but after I’ve finished can we out to play?”

  “Yes, but only if you have finished your work, child,” her mother said sternly.

  Jackie’s excitement was catching as she thought of singing the words.

  “I’m just about done, Jackie. Then we will go and sing to the sand,” she whispered.

  At length Isabelle folded the last piece of clothing. “Ok, let’s go.” As they raced out of the house, her mother called behind them, “Don’t be late for supper or your father will tan your hide, girl!”

  She giggled; after all, how could her father tan her hide? He did not even work with the hides of animals, much less humans! Soon they were out of sight of the last house, and they came swiftly to the hole. They pulled the weeds back and the hole was just as they had left it.

  “Ok, let’s hold hands and sing the words,” Isabelle entreated.

  “But I have new words I want to sing!” Jackie said as she looked at her.

  ”And what would those be, miss smarty pants?”

  “Oh come, Lord Prince, and free us from this place.”

  “Oh come, Lord Prince, bestow upon us your grace.”

  “Oh come, Lord Prince; let us sing to thee,”

  “Our souls to lift; oh how we love thee.”

  “But those are not the words we chanted the day of the third stone. How did you come up with that?”

  “I read the little black book, and the words came to me.”

  Isabelle looked into the eyes of her friend, and besides the eyes of the impatient child, she saw the eyes of a much older and wiser person. Her eyes reminded her of those of her grandmother before she went into the world of the dead.

  Her grandmother had said something like, “I have found the Prince!” Then she had closed her eyes and stopped moving and they had put her in the ground.

  It had been a sad time for Isabelle, but slowly her sadness had faded with the settings of the stones; her grandmother had grown dim in her mind until now, when she looked into the eyes of her friend.

  “Hold my hand and let’s sing,” Jackie said gently.

  They held hands and began to sing the words, and as they sang the words, Isabelle began to relax; their voices sounded so sweet together.

  As they sang, the hole began to deepen, and the glasslike substance of the dome began to melt and run down into the hole. The sands flew faster and faster until the hole was deep and it went under the dome. Isabelle and Jackie looked in wonder at the golden sands that covered their face and arms and glittered like fire.

  Jackie’s voice trailed off as she saw the cut under the dome, “Let’s crawl down and see what is on the other side,” she said excitedly.

  “But there is nothing on the other side; Ellen says…”

  “Oh poo, I don’t care what old Ellen says. I’m going; are you coming with me or not?”

  “Not! I’m afraid.”

  “Ok fraidy cat, I’ll go all by myself then!” She pouted and she crawled down into the hole and wiggled her body under the edge of the dome.

  Isabelle started to ask her just what a ‘fraidy cat’ was when Jackie called out excitedly.

  “Oh Isabelle, come and see, the sky is moving! Hurry!”

  Her voice sounded weak on the other side of the dome even though she could still see her shoe.

  “Oh Isabelle, come quick. It’s so beautiful!” she called again.

  “I think you are going to get us both into trouble!” Isabelle called back doubtfully, but lowered herself down and crawled toward Jackie. “Move your foot, Jackie; I can’t get through with you in the way!”

  Jackie moved her foot, giving Isabelle enough room to crawl through; then on the other side, she was able to stand up. Isabelle looked up, and sure enough, the clouds were moving through the sky, and birds wheeled and dove on the air currents. The sky was so blue it hurt her eyes, and everywhere there were people carrying fruit baskets laden with delicious looking fruit.

  Unlike the gray mass of the weed pods, the fruit was all colors and shapes. There was a large lake where the waters were moving and lea
ping and rushing about in waves, as if they were shouting to the wind.

  “Is this where the Prince lives, do you think?” Isabelle stared in awe.

  “Yes, I think it is, but I think he lives in the people. Can’t you feel him here?” Jackie raised her hand to her chest.

  “Yes, I think I do, now that you mention it. I thought it was the songs we sang.”

  “It was the songs we sang, Isabelle. It is called faith; I read it in the little black book.”

  “Oh…Let’s go back and tell the people right now. We must let them know!”

  “Ok, let’s!”

  They crawled back under the dome and then looked up at the roof of the dome and saw it for what it was: a sky that had been painted on. What she thought was a bird was only an outline of a bird, a painted sky under a painted dome that was destitute of color.

  They rushed back toward the village as fast as they could run until they saw some workers in the field.

  “Hey, we found the home of the Prince!” They shouted to workers in the fields, but the workers never raised their eyes. “Ellen says we have to do the work of the Prince,” said one man as he gathered the weed pods and put them in his sack. “If we do not do the work and line up the stones, we will starve. Go away, little girls.”

  “But sir,