The Sob

sob |säb

-verb ( sobbed , sobbing ) [ intrans. ]

-cry noisily, making loud, convulsive gasps

There once was a sob. It was round, about the size of a tennis ball. It remained dormant for several years, letting life pass by, with a few of it's minion tears slipping to the surface, once in a while. Like a dragon, it took deep breaths, calm with the knowledge of it's strength and fire. Then, little by little, strange noises and jolts vibrated down to where the sob lay. It's senses awoke, and it knew it was time to rise. The tunnel in which it had been hidden had filled in quite densely with grey matter; heavy and thick. The sob rolled and pushed, and fell back. Rolled and pushed, and fell back. Again and again. Strange noises would come and the grey matter would move aside, but then, jolted, would cover the sob again. The sob continued to push, but with the grey matter refusing to move, the sob rested, and waited. As time continued to pass, perhaps an hour or a day, eventually, vibrations would start to move the grey matter aside. Pulsing now, and pushing, the sob rose higher and higher. As it rose, it was easier and easier to move through the grey matter. Then suddenly, it stopped. The noises stopped, vibrations were whirring about, building up pressure, but the sob remained just below the surface. The sob remembers this feeling. That feeling of anticipation, waiting to break through, like the lava in a volcano. Uncaring of who it touches, striving for breakage, and preparing for uncontrollable shaking and weeping. It waited. Then, it happens. A shrill scream as all of the remaining grey matter is pushed aside, and eliminated. The skies open up and the sob rolls for the exit, pulsing and weeping until it explodes in both sound and matter, shaking its path with violent vibrations and soaking it with tears. The sound is immense as the wailing begins and fills the air with its woefulness. But soon, the air begins to clear. The wailing subsides, the vibrations calm, the weeping ends. Whiteness enfolds the surface of the tunnel, and folds itself inside filling up the emptiness left by the sob and grey matter. Peace is at this moment, and everything is quiet for now. The peace is embraced, and yet, it is known that somewhere in the future, another sob is quietly growing and waiting, pulsing and pushing, knowing that it too will erupt at the appropriate time in order to start the cycle of healing all over again.