St Kilda, Scotland. CC photo by Neil Wilkie

Colossus Stymied

Princess be rollin’ down my hill again.

I laugh, ‘cuz Princess gives me tickles when she goes a-hillin’.

I call her Stellalina. We’uns need to be a’namin’ the princesses. But the others say I be a baby, cryin’ on, making pets out nuthin’ but fleas.

I sing, “It don’t matter what they say, I be layin’ here all day–  Stella’ be my Special!”

Princess be tired.  Princess be hiding in Molehole when she be tired, tossin’, turnin’, and givin’ me the itches. But I don’t want to scratch or she be dead. No more Stellalina.

My sweat coils in thick steam down towards Molehole. I hope it be fresh– I want Stellanlina to love my luscious expanse and stay.

I might just be a giant carcass of land. But if I ever pry-up from my stone prison, I’d still carry this little’un with me, trompin’ worlds. And if she like, I’d let her go a’hillin’ and giggin’ whenever she want.

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This was written for Flash! Friday Fiction–Vol 2 – 39

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