Walking On

"One could walk the field and they crunched underfoot..." Just a short piece in the absence of something a little longer this week.

The rock formations near the city had always been a source of curiosity. Some were the size of the palm, others great sweeping stones in flat plates, gently curving. One could walk the field and they crunched underfoot, thick small curls of brittle white. Some of them children played on, hiding out in the hollows, making vast pretend castles and caves beneath the domes; others dominated the landscape, higher than the city itself, ancient and crumbling pitted behemoths that loomed in the fog. And a few, just a few, the scientists took back with them, to see just what they were. One day, they had an answer.

Eggshells, they said.