Once upon a time, in a kingdom where perfection was law, Prince Cedric was raised to be flawless. His crown had no dents, his robes had no wrinkles, and his smile was rehearsed a hundred times a day. But Cedric’s heart was heavy with doubt.
One day, while walking through the gardens, he found a small, oddly-shaped pebble. It was chipped, mismatched, and didn’t shine. Yet, it felt warm in his hand. When Cedric kept it in his pocket, he began to dream—dreams of laughter, of dirt under his nails, of running through the rain.
The pebble began to speak, softly, like a memory. “I’m not perfect, and that’s what makes me special,” it whispered.
The prince soon met a girl named Wren, a potter’s daughter, who taught him to make messy things—bowls that wobbled and sculptures that leaned. Cedric learned the joy of imperfection.
When his coronation day came, Cedric shocked the court by placing the pebble on his crown. Gasps filled the room, but he spoke: “A king must not hide his flaws. He must carry them with honor.”
From that day forward, the kingdom flourished—not because everything was perfect, but because people were finally free to be themselves. And the pebble? It became the most treasured jewel in the land.
