Rocks

It’s always good for children to have a collection of something. It’s a way of finding out what sparks an interest in them, and what brings a smile to their face outside of the usual. Every child has had a collection of something, sometimes it carries over into adulthood. Maggie was no different in this aspect. Being a young child, she loved collecting rocks. Her parents didn’t know when it started, but they encouraged it because it got her to explore and learn about something new. Her parents asked her what about rocks made her interested, and her only reply was that they were pretty and nice.

For a while, Maggie was picking out the nicest rocks she could find along the shore of the lake they lived on. She liked the little smooth ones. They felt nice in her little hands. Her parents would go out with her and would pick out rocks for themselves as well, to help encourage Maggie and to let Maggie know they supported her. After a while, however, she started just picking up every rock she saw, whether it was nice or not. When her parents asked about it, she just replied she needed more rocks. When I asked her again why she needed so many rocks, she finally admitted that she needed them for her protection. Her parents tried to question her once more about what kind of protection the rocks can give her, but she refused to speak any more on the subject.

On a sunny afternoon, Maggie's mother went into her room to tell her that lunch was ready, and when she went in, she noticed boxes and boxes of rocks that were placed in the corner of her room. She asked Maggie about the rocks and why there were so many boxes, and Maggie replied that they were there to keep the bad man away. Maggie's mother was confused. She did not know what bad man Maggie spoke of. Was he an imaginary friend, or an actual man that Maggie was seeing? Her mother opened one of the boxes and looked through the rocks. Most of them were clean, washed off in the lake before being placed in the box. Others, however, were caked in dirt, as if they were grabbed in a hurry. Her mother did not recognize these rocks. She assumed that Maggie got them when they weren't together because she always insisted that Maggie would wash the Rocks before bringing them into the house so as not to spread dirt anywhere on the floors in her room. She turned to look at Maggie to question her again, and Maggie said the bad man told her that rocks keep him away because he’s scared of them. Her mother tried to continue asking questions, but Maggie didn’t seem to want to speak anymore.

That night, her parents were on their way to bed when they heard the soft sound of rocks against their daughter's door. At first, they paid no mind to it. She must just be restless and was playing with the rocks near her door. They gently knocked on the door and bid their daughter good night, but did not hear a response. They thought that was unusual, but knew Maggie was not feeling well lately, so they brushed it off. Heading to their bedroom, they turned off the lights and went to bed. Nothing seemed to be amiss, and they both fell into a restful sleep. A few hours into the night, Maggie’s father heard the sound of larger rocks hitting his daughter's door. He groggily got up and went to go see what was wrong. He knocked on her bedroom door once again and called out to her. There was no response once again. However, the sound of rocks against her door continued. The sound seemed to be coming higher up on her door than what they heard earlier in the night. The father tried to open the door, but it was locked, so he went and woke his wife up. They both tried to get the door open, but they were unsuccessful. The father started slamming his shoulder into the door, hoping to break it down. After a few aggressive tries, the door blew open, pushing a wall of rocks down onto the floor. They squeezed through the opening they made and saw that their daughter was gone.

The window was open wide, and there were scratch marks leading out the window. Checking around the room, they couldn’t find any clues as to what happened to Maggie. Her father ran outside to see if he could find the person that had taken her. Her mother sat on her bed and wept, she placed her hand on the blanket and felt a piece of paper. She opened it and looked at the messily left note. She barely could read it but could make out a few simple words: I lied about the rocks.