Brave Boy And Black Rock
By Heather Bell
Brave Boy was very young. He loved to play in the woods beside his mother’s and father’s house.
His playing was over when his mother was hollering, “Brave Boy!”
“What is it, Mother?” Brave Boy asked.
“Find your father a black rock.”
Brave Boy’s father was going searching for food after he got a black rock to take with him so he would have good luck hunting.
Lately, his father wasn’t finding many deers, rabbits or squirrels to hunt. Brave Boy and his family were getting hungry, for their food was not much.
Brave Boy looked around the house. There were no rocks that were black. He searched the woods that he had been playing in. He found no black rocks.
“I will try Running Streams. She is a rock collector,” he spoke to himself.
Brave Boy found Running Streams at her favourite stream of water finding more rocks for her collection. “I have grey rocks, brown rocks and orange rocks, but no black rocks,” she said.
“I must find a black rock for my father to take with him while hunting. We are getting low on food,” spoke Brave Boy, calmly.
“Black rocks are very popular. A grumpy old man that lives in a cave on top of Black Cliff swaps animals he hunts for all my black rocks. He says they are for good luck,” said Running Streams, while searching the stream for more black rocks.
The grumpy old man was a rock collector too. He collected all the black rocks. He wanted all the good luck and no one else to have good luck.
“I must look on top of Black Cliff,” he said to himself.
Brave Boy was very careful climbing Black Cliff. It was very high and dangerous.
The grumpy old cave-man didn’t seem to be at home in his cave, because he was out hunting, so Brave Boy figured he would just take one black rock and leave.
The grumpy old cave-man kept his collection of black rocks in a pile at the front of his cave to keep out bad luck.
Brave Boy searched the pile looking for a black rock that would fit in his small britches pocket. He laid the bigger rocks into a new pile.
Brave Boy found what he was looking for at the bottom of the pile. He felt luck while holding the small black rock.
“What are you doing with my rocks?” a hairy face growled, like the voice of a bear.
Brave Boy turned to see the grumpy old cave-man blocking the way out of the cave. He shoved the black rock into his pocket without the grumpy old cave-man noticing.
The grumpy old cave-man bent down on both knees to count his black rocks. He knew the number of how many there were.
While the grumpy old cave-man was counting Brave Boy snuck out of the cave and escaped back down Black Cliff.
Brave Boy took the Black Rock to his mother. “Your father will go hunting and bring back food.”
Brave Boy’s father brought back food each time he went hunting, as long he carried his black rock. It didn’t matter how the grumpy old cave-man kept the woods thinned out.- Total nr. of readings: 0 Copyright © The author  All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author except for personal use.
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