On a sun-drenched mountain slope, right beside a path where wild thyme scented the air, lay three sisters. They were not ordinary sisters. They were sisters of stone, and each one was completely different.
The first was named Fiera. She was dark, almost black, and her surface was full of tiny holes, as if a bubbly soup had once boiled inside her. Beside her rested her sister, Sandy. She was light, the colour of sand, and if you looked at her closely, you could see she was made of thin layers, like the pages of a book. The third sister, Glimmer, was the most elegant of all. Smooth, white, and when the sun shone upon her, she sparkled with a thousand tiny lights, as if she held stars within her.
One day, as the sun warmed their stony faces, a cheerful butterfly flew by and landed right on Glimmer. “Oh, how beautifully smooth and warm you are today!” he fluttered his wings. Then he flew over to Sandy. “And you have so many wonderful levels to walk upon!” And finally, he sat on Fiera. “Phew, it’s like a little rocky playground here!”
When the butterfly flew away, Sandy grew thoughtful. “We are so different,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I wonder how it’s possible that we are sisters.”
“I know how I was made!” Fiera proclaimed proudly. “My story is full of fire and power!” The other sisters fell silent and listened.
“A long, long time ago,” Fiera began dramatically, “I was not a stone. I was part of a huge, hot, liquid river deep, deep beneath the earth. It is called lava. It’s so hot down there that even stones are liquid, like honey. But inside the earth, it seethed and bubbled. The pressure grew stronger and stronger until, suddenly, the earth on the surface split open and... BOOM!”
Fiera took a breath. “A volcano erupted! And I, as a stream of fiery lava, came pouring out. I was red and orange, hissing and sputtering as I touched the cold air. Everything in my path either melted or burned. But as I flowed, I slowly cooled. From hot and liquid, I turned solid. These little holes I have are gas bubbles that were trapped inside me as I hardened quickly. And so I was born, a strong and fiery igneous rock!”
Sandy and Glimmer listened with bated breath. Her story was truly exciting.
“That’s amazing,” whispered Sandy. “My story is not so turbulent. It is one of patience and time. A very, very long time.”
She turned her layered side to the sun and began to speak. “In the beginning, I was not one large stone. I was millions and millions of tiny grains of sand at the bottom of an ancient river. Wind and water had brought me there from distant mountains. Every day, the river deposited a new, thin layer upon me. Sometimes it was sand, other times tiny pebbles, bits of shells, or leaves from plants. Layer after layer, year after year.”
Sandy paused for a moment, as if recalling that slow dance of time. “The layers on top became heavier and heavier. They pressed down on the bottom layers with enormous force. It was such a long and powerful pressure, as if the whole earth were holding me in one great, slow embrace. And that pressure, along with water and minerals, cemented me together. All those millions of grains joined into one solid whole. That’s why I have these stripes. Each stripe is a memory of a different time. I am like a stone book that tells the story of the past. I am a sedimentary rock.”
Fiera and Glimmer looked at her striped surface with respect. They realized what immense strength lay hidden in patience.
Then both sisters turned to the quiet Glimmer. “And what about you, Glimmer?” Fiera asked curiously. “You were not born of fire or water. How did you get your sparkle?”
Glimmer shone gently, and her voice sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells. “My story is one of transformation,” she began. “At the very beginning, I was also a stone, but a completely different one. I was an ordinary, soft limestone, similar to what some white cliffs are made of. But one day, something strange happened. An immense force pushed the piece of land I was lying on deep beneath the surface. Not so deep that I would melt like you, Fiera,” she glanced at her fiery sister, “but deep enough where there was immense heat and unimaginable pressure.”
“Pressure?” asked Sandy. “Like with me?”
“Yes, but much, much stronger,” Glimmer explained. “That heat and pressure began to change me. It didn’t hurt. It was as if someone was remaking me from the inside. All the tiny parts I was made of were rearranged by that force and heat into a new, beautiful order. They began to join together into little crystals. And it is those crystals that now shine so beautifully in the sun. From a soft, ordinary limestone, I became a hard and glittering metamorphic rock—marble. I was not born, nor was I settled. I was transformed.”
When Glimmer finished her story, all three sisters remained silent. The sun journeyed across the sky, and they thought.
“So you are the result of fire and speed,” Glimmer said to Fiera. “And you are the work of water, wind, and endless patience,” Fiera said to Sandy. “And you are proof that even under great pressure, something beautiful can be created,” Sandy said to Glimmer.
They smiled at each other. Although each had been formed differently—one as igneous, the second as sedimentary, and the third as metamorphic—they understood that they were all part of one great story of the Earth. They are strong, they are old, and each is beautiful in her own way. They are family. And together they form the solid mountain slope where wild thyme can scent the air and cheerful butterflies can dance.
And what do you think, children? The next time you go for a walk in nature with your parents, try to notice the pebbles on the ground. Perhaps among them, you will find a dark and porous Fiera, a striped Sandy, or even a glittering and smooth Glimmer. Every stone you pick up has its own, unique story. You just have to look closely.