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» Doctor Annabelle Camdon
Sat 13 Jan 2018 - 11:30 by spiesster

» Pebble: A short story
Fri 12 Jan 2018 - 21:41 by Roonil Waslib

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Roonil Waslib

Pebble: A short story

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Pebble: A short story

Post by Roonil Waslib on Fri 12 Jan 2018 - 21:41

The tide is merciless. It pushes and pulls and tears at my skin. The water sweeps me in one direction only to launch me in another. Again and again, I am forced under the surface. It's a never ending cycle, a continuous loop of struggling, drowning, dying. Sometimes, when the current allows me to rest on the ground, I dare to hope. Maybe that would be my final resting place. Maybe the torment I have endured would come to an end. I have no such luck. The water always whisks me away eventually, back to the major leagues.

I've accepted my fate as nothing more than a forwarder. I am destined to be pulled apart and put back together again. That's the way it's been all my life. Instead of settling down and creating some glorious home life myself I must travel and leave a piece of me where ever I go. It is all that I can do to try and gather pieces of the places that I visit. Perhaps then I may become something instead of withering away.

I can't help but wonder if I am defective. Have I missed some crucial rule -some guide- as to how one is supposed to live a decent life? Not this miserable ordeal pulling me in a million and one directions. Am I so worn that I can no longer fit in any one land? Why is it that my neighbors, my friends, my brothers, all of them have found their home, their delta? What is so wrong with me?

I have become a white dwarf, a star ruined by time itself. I've run out of fuel and I've lost my juvenile appeal. Is that really what it takes to live? Dying first? It must be.

As I allow such sinking  thoughts to enter my mind, I too sink. I sink to the very bottom, to the deepest depths rill. I stay in the same position for a very long time. I contemplate myself many, many times. Eventually I come to the astounding conclusion that I care. I care an unnatural amount about my own life. I couldn't really care less about the prospect of my life versus that of my death, but the idea of my body sitting in a quarry stagnant for all time is inconceivable. I refuse.

The powers that be seems to hear me. A light current fuels my drive. Slowly, I crawl out of the stench of the river. Suddenly, the six million years of being a slave to the tides no longer matter because I got my wish. No longer shall I be tossed around in that wet prison. Dry land shall forever be my home.

The powers that be seemed to hear that too. A boy, perhaps no older than thirteen approaches me. His stubbly fingers grasp my aged body.

"I could take you home and put you with my collection!" He shrieks. I understand his enthusiasm. A family of my own, a refuge from the torturous currents, I want nothing more. His face suddenly changes from one of soft, boyish jubilance to one of sad, dejected disinterest. He reminds me of myself that way.

"Oh. You're all jagged. I only like smooth rocks in my collection. You're still okay for skipping though."

As is turns out, I skip wonderfully.


This is a story I did based off of a dictionary challenge. The words were defect, forwarder, major league, stench, and white dwarf.

I don't know how well I used them in this first person story about a depressed pebble but it was kind of fun to write anyway.

Roonil Waslib

Posts : 1
Join date : 2017-09-07
Age : 15
Location : In a trashcan, probably.

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