CW: Just a tiny pebble in the ocean.

“Write a story about a pebble as it travels down a stream…”
– writing prompt for today’s CW piece.

 

Peter the Pebble was born into the wet world of the Marañón River (in Peru) in 1879.

His family was composed of rocks of all colors, shapes and sizes.

His favorite bedtime story was about a group of kids at a summer swimming camp.

He knew he was still too young, but one day, he was going to swim.

As he grew older, no matter how hard he tried, he always sank and ended up at the bottom of the river. Wherever he landed was his home. At least until the next current. Then he would have to start his life all over again.

Growing up, life had no sunshine or rainbows. All Peter could see was a glimmer of something bright high up in the sky. Crying was of no use. With all the wetness around, crying just didn’t feel as expressive as it should.

Every time he would move, he landed among strangers, so there was no one to lean on. Sometimes strangers would land on top of him. That was no fun, either. So heavy and rough, poking him in the gut, leaving scratches, nearly gauging his eyes out.

At a tender age of 18, he met Peggy of the Ucayali River. They had so many similar stories to share. She was so pretty with her moss green hair, and so wise. Her favorite bedtime stories were ones about the beach. Her dream was to one one day lay on one.

They traveled a lot the next few decades; picking up more moss and scratches. Once in Peru, now in Brazil – a step closer to the ocean. She was always hopeful about seeing the beach, but he had pretty much given up on his dream of swimming. Rocks don’t swim.

The tides became stronger and less predictable. Peter and Peggy were getting older, and the frequent tidal roller-coasters were no longer something they enjoyed. It took a lot of strength and team work for them to stay together through all these times.

One day, a strong current took them by surprise and they thought they were going to die. Being swept for miles at a time, crashing against other rocks, they held each other tighter, closed their eyes and said their prayers.

Suddenly, everything was calm around them. As they opened their eyes, the sun was shining bright. Peggy teared up, overwhelmed by her emotions. She laid on a beach. Something she never thought would actually happen.

Peter was happy for her, but there was a part of him that was sad about his dream not being unfulfilled. Just as he was burying this thought deep in his soul, a young boy ran over and picked him up.

“What’s going on?” – thought Peter while being tossed into the air.

“I’m flying!”

“I’m…. I’m swimming!” – Peter shouted with all his might.

They boy thought he was just skipping rocks, but for Peter it was a dream come true.

[P.S. What if rivers, lakes and oceans are just pebble tears?]

Stay golden,

.

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