If I were a Pencil

August 9, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

47932030 - woman in nature writing in a notebook

This woman… I don’t know who she was or what was her purpose, but it seemed ever since she bought my family and I, all she ever cared to do was use us—use us until there was nothing left. And before all of this, our lives were simple, we had peace, no one ever bothered us, although there wasn’t many that came by, came to buy.

But it all changed on that obscure night, when the owner put us up for sale. My father trembled in fear, I never saw a man sweat the way he did, let alone cry, and sadly this would be my moment to bear witness to it.  I asked my father what was wrong and he replied. “I’m sorry princess, I wanted so much more for you, so much for your future, your mother wanted this as well, but…”

I didn’t understand, not because he stopped though, I knew he was still dealing with the loss of mom—I never gotten over it either, but I feel no one really forgets a loved one, they are part of us, a part of who we are. I’d ask father the question of what was really going on, but not a word was given.  Before I could grasp the visions of my family history, where we came from, we were sold off—just like the others, like sheep. No one ever knew what happen with the others or where they’d go, but most assumed it would be a paradise.

The anonymous gentleman then told the woman buying us that her total would be a dollar ten. I had no clue to what that meant, although it would seem my father and the rest did. I could never understand these creatures, these humans, they called them.

After the woman had finalized her exchange with the owner, we were taken off to the place she stayed. It was disgusting, old boxes of food were all that remained on the floor—boxes of pizza and teriyaki—I’d always thought the men were sloppy ones, but I guess I was wrong, stereotypically. The woman then plopped us down on a nearby table, everything was dark, all that was seen were subtle light bouncing the walls in the far distance. I believe the humans called them, ‘Can-dle’s’.

The woman was gone for quite some time, but later revealed herself shortly after. She smelled of old spice, it was strange we thought. I mean… what the hell was old spice doing there, we thought he’d still be at the store. Not too many ever came by him or his family, let alone a woman, not to say he wouldn’t of enjoy it. Old Spice was known to be a pervert at times. I figured he’d seduce the woman into having a little fun for the night, but I’d hope he wasn’t successful—from the smell of the woman, no telling of what they did that night—he was dirty bastard.

What I saw next was what brought me to reality, why we were all there in the first place. “No! No! Please don’t!” the anonymous one said. However, the victim wasn’t all that anonymous—it was Larry. Larry was a family member of ours, he’d disappear a couple of weeks ago. My dad said it must had happened over night—the time were the store was mostly quiet, getting ready to close. But whatever day it was, we knew it had to be him.

The woman squeezed Larry tightly, like the serpent she was. Squeezing him until he smeared out all sweat of fear he had.  My supposed uncle was then dragged all over what appeared to be just a table in the distance or paper, pieces of him had broken off horrifically. My father wanted, I wanted to charge in, to help him, but we knew it was too late. After parts of Larry had been filed down to nearly his eyebrows, the woman inserted him into some-kind of device we’d never seen before. It was square and bulky, however didn’t look like it could be that much harm, we thought. Larry was then put through a tiny hole that the device held within its center—being pulled in and out gradually, slowly. But don’t be such a perv, and yes, I’m talking about you, the one with the nasty thoughts right now. Although, I guess I would be a pervert as well, I sadly thought the same—maybe it’s us that should call ourselves Old spice hysterically, or dirty bastards for that much.

But moving on. After a few seconds Larry came out and was no more. But the woman didn’t stop there, not at least until there was nothing that remained of Larry. That very night was the night fear was instilled within in us all, on a scale from one to ten, it was definitely a ten. I knew I needed to do something, something extraordinary, and it needed to be quick.

The very next morning, after some shut eye, although it was hard to shut any eye at that point, the woman was back at it again. I thought to myself what’s the deal with this woman, she’d even lick some at times while smearing them against the very paper Larry was once. He was back with us again, however was not the same, he was like a child. The woman had filled him down so shortly that he was no longer a man—Larry now spoke in the words of an infant, and I was embarrassed that I would have an infant as an authoritative figure. Even though he was now a child, he was still my uncle.

We then began to call the owner I guess, the mad man or mad woman, if there’s such thing. But I didn’t care, anything was better than calling her an owner—no one would own me, or my family, we would be free again.

The woman would victimize not one, but three more of my family members that day and before we knew it, my father would be next. And before it came to that, my father finally told me what we were, or what we use to be.

“Trees,” he said. “We were once trees.” I thought to myself, ‘what the hell is a tree?’ but instantly I’d get the answer. “We were big and strong, tall enough to reach the heavens skies. We ruled the forest, the woods, we ruled it all until they cut us down,” father said. I asked him who was they and he replied with one word, “Lumberjack.” I was confused, speechless. I was unaware that there were various kinds of humans, and more so unaware that we were so massive, so magical. Before he could tell me the rest, we were interrupted—the woman.

Her hand then shifted over towards my father, she had dealt all damage she could to the others. All that laid by her degrading device were nothing but whining babies, all who were my family.

I couldn’t bear to see the same happen to my father, so I rolled over knocking him off the table, onto the floor. The woman fortunately was a lazy ass, and was too much of it to bend over, so she grabbed me instead.

Right then everything for me would change, all that I never knew of myself would be revealed—if only I were a pencil, everything would become a story, become a reel.

 

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