Tom Flanders
Yesterday I heard the rocks whispering. There was a violent storm off shore and I went down to the beach to watch the big waves crash against the rocks. When I got there though there was no crashing. The waves were as big as expected but they weren't breaking. They quietly moved around the rocks and unfolded onto the sand like peanut butter being spread by a giant knife. That's when I heard the rocks whispering.
The rocks told me about a man who came to them to ask for his soul back. He lost it at the bottom of a well and was hoping it had flowed out into the ocean. The rocks told him to pick up fourteen snowy plovers and throw them into the air. The man did as he was told and the birds flew out over the ocean. Hours later, when it was clear that the birds would not return, the rocks told the man that his soul was lost and nothing could be done for him.
I told the rocks that I didn't believe their story so they told it to me again only this time the birds came back. I didn't find out if they found the man's soul or not as a rogue wave crashed over the rocks drowning their whispers.