The story written by the pencil


I was chosen out of the 10 other boxes that were out there on the shelves catching the dust. I’ve waited too long in the box and getting very impatient for I had no idea if anyone could make their way all the way to the back of the store passing all the aisles, avoiding all the other distractions and come pick me up. But when I did get picked, I was extremely happy and I was very much looking forward to the new life. A life filled with creativity, a life filled with joy and sorrow, a life filled with trials and triumphs. 

I was excited to be home. 

The tender hands of the kids holding me gently for the first time gave me goosebumps and my happiness knew no bounds for I was the chosen one to lead the little one into the big world of “Learning”. 
I drew the crooked lines and for months that’s all I drew. But then the crooked lines became straight and then they began connected to make different shapes. Then came the all powerful, the first alphabet of the language. It didn’t take much time for me to become part of the kids life.

The kid cried when I got sick (led broke), the kid jumped in joy when I got better (sharpened the led) and elated and excited when i helped the kid make wonderful art – at least the kids parents thought so. The kid was drawing better and writing better, but at the same time I was also getting older. I reached half my shelf life already. 

And miraculously the colorful cousin came to my rescue. While I was still occasionally drawing things, my cousin took over and made things colorful for the little one. Together we made a great pair. Soon we were drawing shapes that can move, that can run, that can climb, that can talk, shapes that were living life. Since my cousin had a shorter shelf life, once it became older, to a point where holding it became impossible it was left alone. 
And then one day while me and my cousin were working on a rather ambitious project on the wall, yes, now we were experimenting using no more papers, since we wanted to be environment friendly, our lives were brought to a standstill. It was as if someone just broke us into two halves and threw us in different directions, we became directionless. 

Our little friend got a big box in a fancy looking white bag. The kid was excited to see the bag, probably a little more than when I first met the kid. Out came a white looking something with an apple picture on its back. At first I thought this can’t be for the kid because it looked very expensive, at least according to my standards. Then I thought, may be its a photo frame since it was rectangular in shape and it had one of the pictures that I and my colorful cousin made. 

My mind was racing with imagination and after 10 mins, the white something turned bright with small little things all over it. The kid threw me and my cousin, stopped the ambitious project in the middle and ended up on the couch leaning back and holding the apple thing close to him, so close, that the kid never saw us. Little did I know that that was the last time he would see us. 

As per my colorful cousin and me, we were put back in our boxes and placed high up in a shelf in the kids room. Since we were the first pencil and the first crayon, we were kept as souvenirs. 

  It’s been a really long time and I haven’t come out since the apple thing made its way into the kids life. I still couldn’t figure out what the apple thing was that took away the kid from us. I ended up in a box on a shelf catching dust just like how I began my journey. 

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