My Pebble

by Jmichael11

One of the first few things I had to write in my Creative Writing class. I like to try to write humorous passages. This is a free verse poem, which means it doesn't need a rhythm or a rhyme scheme. Not all poems need to rhyme or have a rhythm.

While I was walking home from school, I noticed the most unusual thing; I had something in my Pocket.

I knew that there wasn't supposed to be something in there, so I ignored it.

After a while, with the sensation of the imaginary object still in my pocket, I shoved a hand in there.

When my fingertips brushed the imaginary object, I froze.

The object was smooth and warm to the touch, and oddly soft.

I did have something in my pocket.

When I pulled out the object, it appeared to be a rock, a pebble, actually, that was such a dark shade of crimson it resembled blood.

I rolled it across my palm and it seemed to radiate heat.

I even think it was steaming.

Bringing the pebble to my eye for a closer look, I noticed the rock had small holes all over, almost like pores.

I decided to throw the rock against a tree to see what happened and was I surprised.

I heard a sharp crackle as the tree was enveloped in flames.

I gawked at the sight before I ran home, pretending that my encounter with the pebble had ever happened.

Now that I think of it, I'm not entirely sure it was a pebble.