By Baker Street
The black rock rose out of the ocean like a granite sentinel. It had stood undaunted for ages untold amidst the roaring waves. The sea had tumbled and tossed about it for years without end, and still it stood firm.
It had stood an eternity unbending and unmoving, as the waves shook and tore at it. The skies of black storms had raged with fury about the rock and sea throughout the ages. But the rock never wavered. Still it stood steadfast and secure, and still the waves tore about it.
A thousand-million dark nights the moon and stars had shone above it, glimmering the black rock in dim light. And the nights and days passed in a never-ending spiral of years, as the rock stood out in the tumbling sea. As the eons passed, the land itself broke up into islands, but still the rock remained.
It stands as it always has, out deep in the ocean, a solitary master of the elements. The seas may dry, and the world may crumble, but the black rock remains. And for now, it stands unmoving and unshaken, as the sea dances in waves about it, and the silver night glistens above…