Frank sat on the grass, his body cool and speckled with dew. It was morning, and thank god it was. Mornings were good, afternoons were bad. Very bad. Inhaling through his porous surface he thought,
                ‘It is beautiful outside and all the children are at school so I can’t be kicked around. I will not have a repeat of last weeks ordeals,’
                He shivered internally and felt the charred spit on his rear end where some kid lit a match under him. ‘No-sir-ee, it won’t happen again. Today will be a good day. A good day to be a rock.’
                He sighed and tried to relax, listening to the twitter of birds and chatter of stones and pebbles on a nearby road, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of fear creeping over him.
                And then he heard it, the most feared sound of all rock-kind: a little girl whistling. The sound echoed around Frank’s body and rattled inside him. The girl came closer and closer until Frank was about to split apart when she stepped on him. He let out a small ‘oof’, thankful for his hard exterior. The girl stopped whistling and looked underneath her shiny black shoe. As she laid her eyes on Frank a huge grin crept across her face, showing a disturbingly white smile with her two front teeth missing.
                Her blonde pigtails bobbed as she giggled and fluttered her pink skirt. Frank had never seen a more terrifying sight. The monstrous child reached down with a pudgy hand and grabbed him. He screamed and wished more than ever that he wasn’t so damn immobile. She gazed at the rock in her hand, it was about the size of her palm and, if she squinted hard enough, it looked the shape of a frog. She grinned again,
                “Hello there little rock, you are going to be my new pet. I think I’ll call you… Marie. Let’s go home Marie, I can draw a face on you and put you in my hamster cage!” She closed Frank in her fist and skipped away to her house. Frank cried and yelled the entire way but to no avail. When he saw the door of her little ranch house he know once that door closed, he would never come out again.
                Actually, mornings are definitely worse than afternoons.