Writer's Nest Topic: Pebbles by Susan L.

There was a mountain, once upon a time, that touched the very sky. Wispy clouds parted far below the icy, snow clad peak that reached where the air was thin. She looked down upon her neighbours, the cliffs, the glaciers, and the people she had heard about but couldn't see. Although, their ploughed fields, their woods and winding roads filled the land to its very end. She was ancient, ageless and proud. The weather best upon her breast: the frost, the rain, the heat of the day, the chill of the night for time untold. Green things: twisted, stunted trees adorned her wherever they could find a small crevice that held a tiny bit of earth. They clung desperately to her harsh and inhospitable cliffs, slowly driving their seeking roots ever deeper into her sides. Her stony heart gloated, "Invincible!" She sneered, "Mighty!" She crowed to the world around, "Magnificent!" Her days were spent admiring her reflection in the turquoise mountain lakes she'd trapped. One summer day, a storm rolled in; black and billowing, not able to pass her. Bigger and fiercer the swirling clouds gathered and bumped together. Rumbles of the storm's thunder called to the mountain, "Please, let me pass!" He growled in his deep voice. She simply smirked and mocked him, confident in her strength and power. The storm shook his thunderhead in dismay. Everyone was tired of the mountain's conceit and pride. With a mighty roar, he aimed a single bolt of lightning at a crack a tiny tree had opened. This was the final blow in the war of time. The earth shook and rocked as the mountain fell. Great clouds of dust filled the air where the mountain had once stood. All that was left of her mighty cliffs, her soaring peak was a jumbled heap of jagged, shattered stone. A giant boulder was all that remained of her heart. She ranted and raged and hated the trees and the storms. She wept bitter tears over all she had become. Age upon age passed. Snow, sleet, rain filled newborn rivers that once were captive lakes. The rushing waters eroded her heart breaking it smaller and smaller. The water rounded and polished the razor sharp edges and scattered the pieces far and wide. A carpenter's Son ran upon a sandy beach playing tag with the waves as boys like to do. A retreating wave left a tiny stone shining brightly in the sun. It was smooth and soft with gold and silver flecks that danced in the light. Delighted with this little treasure, He raced to show His dad what He had found. It was only then the mountain understood the reason for her fall. She could finally forgive the storms and trees that had brought her to her knees. Safe and warm in the Child's palm, she realized it wasn't about being the best, the biggest or the most powerful. Her purpose in time was to grow to be a pebble. One that was just as beautiful as when she had filled the sky.