the island and the iceberg

The Island and the Iceberg.

Once, there was and island, far away from all else, excepting of course the sea that surrounded it. It was quite an empty island, with only a few trees in which no birds nested and a few flowers in which no bees buzzed. Because of this, it was also quite a lonely island, with the tides stroke of its thin craggy beaches being its only comfort.
One day across the blue deep sea came floating an enormous glittering diamond. As it drew closer and closer the water around the Island became colder and colder, until the diamond revealed itself to be an enormous iceberg. The little Island shivered as it glided past, narrowly missing it.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” it cried (for in point of fact it was a talking island.)
But the Iceberg just sailed past, oblivious. The Island watched it disappear into the distance, thinking what a fine thing it must be to travel past what you could see. For many days it fantasised about the places the iceberg would go and had been, and wondered if one day it would return.
Sure enough one cloudy night it did, looming large in the deep darkness. It drifted much the same as it had done before, though this time the island felt slightly less chill at its approach.
“Hello?” said the Island
“What?” muttered the Iceberg, whose thoughts had also been drifting.
“I said hello.”
“Oh. Hello little rock. What is it you want?”
The island was taken aback, both by what the Iceberg had called it and by the directness of the question.
“I was just hoping you could tell me about some of the things out in the world. Is there more to see than just sea?”
“Oh much more. I’ve seen lands that stretch to horizons. I’ve seen rocks rising out the ground, crowned with little suns that swivel around and around. Great fish rising and jumping from the water. I’ve seen things you never will, little rock, and I’m going to see more.”
The Iceberg sailed on, leaving the Island to dwell with bitter delight on the things it had spoken of.
Despite what it had said though, the Iceberg kept returning, growing warmer and friendlier with each trip, telling more tales about the world. This wasn’t the only change the Island had noticed in it though, and upon the Icebergs next visit it asked the question.
“Are you getting smaller?”
The Iceberg laughed, causing bits of it to fell off.
“Maybe you’re getting bigger, little rock.”
“You are, aren’t you?”
“I am. That’s what all my travelling and drifting has done to me.”
“What will happen when there’s none of you left?”
“Then I’ll be gone, part of the ocean. The same thing happens to us all.”
“Even me?”
“Haven’t you noticed you’re little beach getting bigger, as your rocks get worn away?”
“Oh. Will we see each other before? It’s a fearful thing to be gone alone.”
“I don’t know, but I’m not afraid and neither should you be. This is how things are. I have to go now, the tide is pulling.”
The Iceberg went away, leaving the Island alone, wondering if it would now be so forever.
The iceberg did return however, but while all other times the Island had felt it getting warmer, this time it felt colder than ever before. Smaller still, it also approached the Island much faster.
“Slow down!” cried the little Island. “You’re going to hit me!”
“I’m just like you,” said the Iceberg. “Just as small and pathetic and trapped. I thought I was seeing the whole world, but I’m stuck in the same stupid current that has brought me back to you and your foolish questions again and again.”
“Why are you trying to hit me?”
“If I smash off you hard enough, maybe it will knock me on to a new current. Maybe I’ll even go home, where I can grow again.”
But of course the Iceberg had done exactly as it had before, and missed the island, following the same current it always had. It drifted away, full of a cold hate that lingered with the Island for a long while. And for once, the Island wished that the Iceberg would never return.
For a long time the Island thought it had gotten its wish, and it not once saw the Iceberg glinting on the horizon. So focussed was it on the distance, that it missed the tiny little chunk of ice that slunk up until it was almost upon it.
“Hello?” said the Iceberg.
“What?” grumbled the Island, whose thoughts had been distant. “Oh. It’s you.”
“It is.”
Silence stretched to the horizon.
“I lied to you,” said the Iceberg finally.
“About what?”
“Lots of things. All those amazing stories, they were just things I heard from other Icebergs I met. The only things I saw were a few fish and a cliff in the distance. I also lied about not being afraid of being gone. I was, and I still am.”
“You look so small now” said the Island, looking down at this little sad lump of Ice.
“I think that you were always bigger than me, really”
The Island thought for a while.
“If you lied about these things, did you lie about me, and being worn away by the sea?”
“That’s the one truth I told. I’m sorry”
“Then tell me something else that’s true. I don’t think I like being lied to.”
“I’d rather show you,” said the Iceberg. Then, defying the currents of the sea (which at times could be very cruel) it gently hit the island, with enough force to lift it on top.
“There’s a lot more of you under the surface,” said the Island in surprise.
“Enough for my purpose, at least” replied the Iceberg.
And this was its purpose. It drifted along the current, taking the island with it and showing the meagre sights it had to offer. For the island, which had never seen anything beyond what it could see, all of it was incredible, and through the Islands fresh perspective the Iceberg had a renewed appreciation for these old familiar places. As the current took them back home, the island thought of a question that it had never asked the Iceberg.
“What is your home like?”
“My home?” said the Iceberg, as it gently deposited the island back on the costal shelf it had rested upon “At my home, the land and the sea are the same things.”
That was the last thing it said, and with its purpose complete it crumbled into a million pieces, and became part of the sea.
It was only then that the island realised that it had picked up a few travellers on its journey. Birds now nestled in its trees and insects trundled about its flowers. It felt them patter about its surface, living and vibrant, and no longer was it lonely.
The sea tugged at its craggy beaches, slowly but surely wearing it away, and the Island thought that it too would one day be gone, but it wasn’t afraid.