The little pebble watched in wonder as the old man picked up yet another stone and sent it sailing through the air. It skimmed over the surface of the lake, creating a series of beautiful ripples before it sank beneath the blue waters. The pebble shivered with delight as it imagined the feeling of flying through the air, brushing against the shimmering surface of the water, then sinking into the coolness of the lake. 'But surely,' sighed the pebble, 'There are many stones greater than I; The old man will never choose me.'
The little pebble looked around him, wondering which stone would be next, as the old man reached his hand down toward the rocks. Oddly enough, the little pebble saw that the great stones, the large, powerful rocks, seemed to shrink away from the man's fingers, as if they were hiding. 'Certainly they aren't afraid of being the chosen one!' the pebble thought. Still the hand hovered as the old man carefully pondered which stone to use next. And still, the large rocks, the ones the little pebble thought of as great and powerful, cowered, desperately hoping to remain just one more day within their place of comfort upon the path. 'Maybe there is a chance for me after all,' the little pebble murmured. It lifted its face to the old man, willing to be used in any way. The hand hovered a moment longer, then stopped above the pebble, and gently lifted the smallest stone from its cradle in the earth.
The hand rolled the pebble over again and again, feeling it's cold, smooth surface, and the little pebble relaxed within the warmth and security of the old man's grasp. Then the grip around the pebble tightened as the man drew his arm back and released the small stone. Within a moment it was sailing through the air, then skimming across the lake. Ripples began to appear where the pebble brushed against the surface of the water. First small circles, then cascading into enormous rings.
The little pebble sighed in delight and contentment, then sank below the surface, deep into the sand, its purpose fulfilled.
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