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Pebble

Writer's picture: Lala RukhLala Rukh

It stays the same.


Unchanging, a little blissful, a little peaceful. The little pebble lay resting under the shade of the tree, the ground stretched out under him. The sun breaks through, lighting up the dirt path, littered with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves. The sight changed, but the little pebble stayed.


It had stayed under, guarded by his tree. He had witnessed the seasons change, like lullabies, never faltering, always coming and reaching. From the warmth of the summer sky to the dropping leaves. To when the ice overtook his land, leaving his tree shrivelled up and distraught to when, once again, the flowers bloomed over.


They had faced it all together, for years they had stayed together.


It was tranquility settling over them, A tree and his little pebble, they stood still in one place, but they had seen a lot, but amidst it all, they could let go. Could sit and enjoy, watch the world dance, neither bound by responsibilities, neither bound by desires they could not fulfil.


A change, he had once, when a little girl with her family had come and picked him up, he had thought he would be thrown over, would be separated from his tree, he had wept, but it had not shown, he did not wish to part.


Perhaps, though, his cries had been heard. She had simply painted on him, although it tickled and made him squirm, it had felt calming, it had made him feel pretty, He could not see what was painted over him but when the little girl, pleased by her work, dropped him back to his spot, “bye bye little rock!” he felt enchanted, that perhaps the girl could hear him too, could sense his need to return.


His tree, later told him that she had painted a vivid scenery on him, With the mountains peaking over the lavender sky, with the trees touching the depth of the water, little red blossoms reflected under the river.


He imagined it would be pretty, that he looked pretty, his tree told him so, He had laughed, often his tree complained about being the only one to change, but,


“See, i can change too.”

The writer wishes to stay anonymous.



(Image from here.)

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