Shammy Rock's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Shammy Rock leaned against his cottage wall, waiting for a star to fall. He always leaned. His whole body slanted to one side, so his shamrock head tipped like a flower on a bent stem. Once, a meteor had streaked past and landed near him, and the next day he found a gold coin in his shorts pocket. Ever since, he watched the sky each night. He wanted that luck again. Tonight he needed only one clear look at a falling star. But he could not see the sky. Tall trees ringed his home, their branches locked overhead like fingers. Green leaves hid every star. Shammy tilted his head back and saw only black shapes and gaps too small to matter. A meteor could fall a stone's throw away, and the trees would swallow it whole. He pushed off the wall and walked, leaning as he went. He needed open sky. He remembered a spot deeper in the woods where the trees stopped. His father had called it a place where fairies danced. Shammy had never gone at night. Roots grabbed at his green feet. Branches scratched his arms. He kept moving, one shoulder always lower than the other. The forest grew darker, then, ahead, lighter. He pushed through a wall of ferns and stopped. A circle of mushrooms opened before him. They stood in a ring, red and blue and orange caps glowing faintly. Inside the ring, the grass was bare and soft. And above the clearing, the trees pulled back. The whole black sky spread open, thick with stars. No branch blocked it. Shammy could see everything. He stepped into the ring and looked up. His neck stopped hurting for the first time all night. He turned in a slow circle, counting stars, watching for any that might streak and fall. This was the place. From here, he could catch a meteor the moment it dropped. Then the ground shook. A high whine cut the air. Shammy spun toward the sound. Above the far trees, a bright streak tore across the sky. It grew, and grew, and did not stay a streak. It became a burning rock, falling fast, falling here. Shammy threw himself flat against the mushrooms. The meteor slammed down at the clearing's edge. Dirt sprayed over him. Heat rolled across his back. When he lifted his head, a scorched rock sat in a fresh crater, its cracks glowing orange like coals. Shammy laughed and scrambled up. A meteor, fallen right beside him, just like before. His luck had returned. He limped toward it, leaning, reaching out one green hand. The rock hissed. From inside the fairy ring, a low voice spoke behind him. "That," it said, "does not belong to you." Shammy froze, hand still out. He was not alone in the clearing.