Mount Dragon

By Vera Nazarian

“Go to hell, idiot,” I said, using an astringent tongue he’d understand. “I am but a monumental slab of granite, and you, mortality, are like one of the droppings of a fairly large corpulent deity–an ephemeral honor I would rather pass me by.”

“And yet, you speak to me, mountain,” said the mote of humanity. “Why is that?”

I considered that for a moment. The creature had a point.

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.