A Monument on the Path

I stepped past the porch threshold and wandered down to the sun-warmed flagstone garden path. 'Prepare to become a tower of doom, little pebbles!' I chimed in a sweet, soaring falsetto. With the tip of my sharp red claw, I carefully nudged one flat grey stone atop another, then balanced a jagged chip of slate right on the peak. The tiny stack swayed, shedding a speck of dust. I pulled my claw back and fell into dead, unblinking stillness, grinning wide as the afternoon light stretched my spiky shadow across the pavers. It held.