Josh Vance

Story 1 Revision
April 28, 2015
The Plain Red Pencil
There was a mechanical pencil. A rather plain one to be honest. Its body was black with
a red tip that held the eraser and a red rubber grip wrapped around it.
The pencils greatest desire was to be used. To be able to use its ability to write to help
someone with essays and worksheets. Alas this was not to be as the pencil was always outshined
by another pencil.
This one was interesting and in no way plain like the red pencil. Its body was entirely
silver and had a shiny rubber grip built into it at the tip. At its top it had a turning mechanism
that could hold an eraser which was much longer than anything the red pencil could ever hold. If
this wasnt all in the middle it had a small window for the user to see how much led was inside
plus the body was wide to hold triple the amount of led that the red pencil was able to.
Day after day the red pencil watched in disappointment as the silver pencil got picked in
place of him. Rather than receiving the joy of being used he sat in the pencil box all day. The
only light being the dim dark green light that came from the lights glaring on the green plastic
exterior of the box.
Not being used wasnt the only difficult thing in the poor pencils life. The silver pencil
got a little alcove all to himself. It rested on a small shelf on the side of the box that was raised
above the other holders. There it was nice and clean. Thin walls ran on all sides creating a thin
pocket that prevented the silver pencil from rolling too much as it rested in between its uses. The
red pencil wasnt so lucky.
It stayed in the largest alcove of the box which he shared with multiple other items.
There was the blue zebra pen with his green inked brother. A few old crayons that were used so
much that their once sharp tips were now fat and round. Finally there was the neon orange eraser
which was only used for big messes.
The alcove itself was lined with the dust of the remains of old crayons and pieces of led
which made the red pencil dirty and patches of blue and green crayon were on his rubber grip. In
addition there was a small crack nearly the length of him that had been there for as long as
anyone could remember.
The big space in this alcove caused him to roll around a lot when the box was moved
from place to place and was frequently crushed by the eraser as it often rested on top of him
when the box came to a stop.
The red pencil often longed for the days before the appearance of the silver pencil to
come back. The days when he was used and laid in the clean alcove. In those days he was used
frequently to do such assignments such as essays, math equations, and art projects. Then he had
been loved and cared for. Until the day that the silver pencil arrived.
He could remember it well as it constantly entered into his thoughts. The day of the lid
of the box opening and seeing the silver pencil as it glittered in the light of the room. It was then
that he was picked up and cast from is shelf into the dirt and dust of the bottom of the box.
Forced to live as a forgotten tool that had no hope to ever be loved or used again.
Oh how he longed to be used again! To be loved by someone and to fulfill his potential!
He ached to feel the sensation of moving across a page and leaving his mark as he created words.
To form numbers in intricate patterns to form some kind of solution. To fill in the details and

values of an owl to make it pop off the page and be satisfied in knowing that he had been a part
of creating such a splendor for all to enjoy.
But was all not to be as his days in the dirt of the pencil box continued onward with no
hope of his dreams ever being realized.
However as is common in life the most extraordinary things tend to happen when all
hope seems to be gone. Tis the case in the life of the red pencil.
One day a box opened and light came flooding in which was quickly eclipsed by a box of
crayons that was placed in the large area on top of the pencil and his companions. The weight
was crushing and the pencil felt that he might burst at any moment.
The pencil box was picked up and they began to be transported to another location. The
pencil was used to it. It happened multiple times a day as the owner went to his different classes.
Everyone, except the silver pencil of course, shifted slightly as the box jerked and the red
pencil came to rest on top of the crack which groaned with the new weight that had been added
to it.
He could feel a draft below him from the opening in the box. At that moment he wished
that the crack would open big enough for him to drop through so he could get relief from the
weight on top of him.
Almost in response to his wish the groaning got louder until a snap caused the pencil and
everything else to fall in to empty space.
The pencil hit the ground with a smack and the eraser landed right next to him and he got
knocked a few inches to the side.
He watched as the owner in surprise turned around and looked at all of the contents on
the floor.
He and a friend quickly bent down to pick up everyone.
The hallway was crowded with a large amount of people that were going in every
direction and quite a few came close to stepping on the pencil.
The red pencil waited for his owner to come and pick him up as well, but was shocked
when he picked up everyone else and then stood up; stuffed all the contents into his bag and
walked away.
He hadnt seen the red pencil. Whether the crowded hallway kept him from seeing the
pencil or he just forgot that the red pencil was his was unknown. All the red pencil knew was
that he was being left behind on the cold cement floor.
Slowly the hallway emptied and he was left alone. The pencil had no ability to move on
his own and could only look in the direction that he had seen his owner walk away. There was
nothing to do. He was alone and now any slimmest of slim chances that he had of ever being
used were now gone.
Or so he thought.
The pencil didnt know how long he had been laying on the floor when a bell sounded
that echoed through the halls. Mere seconds after hundreds of students occupied the hall and
were stomping all over the place.
They kept coming close to stepping on him, but none did, much to his gratefulness.
Pretty soon though he felt a pressure in his back side that sent him sliding and spinning a few
inches across the floor.
Almost immediately after he stopped he was kicked again. This time from the front and
was sent spinning again. This kept happening and terrified the pencil horribly for he got dizzy
and just knew that any moment he would be stepped on and that would be the end of him.

He got kicked again and was sent sailing into the wall and rested in the corner where he
hoped he might be overlooked by the remaining feet that were in the halls.
He was facing the wall and having a staring contest with a massive dust bunny when he
felt something warm touch his midsection and he was being pulled from the ground.
The force turned him around and he noticed that he had been picked up by a boy with a
massive nose and short choppy, blond hair.
The boys mouth opened and he blew the dust way from of the pencils body. His breath
smelled like fish sticks and custard and the pencil would have liked to puke if he had a mouth to
puke out of.
Look what I just found! the boy yelled to his friend down the hall. Free pencil!
Im so happy for you, his friend said without turning around or breaking stride as he
moved down the hall away from him.
Hey! Wait up! the boy yelled and dashed away while keeping the pencil tight in his
grip.
They entered a room and the boy placed the pencil down on a desk.
Could it be? Was he really about to be used?
The pencil watched as people gathered in the desks around him as the bell rang and shook
the desk.
The teacher began to babble on about something and the boy plopped a notebook down
on the table next to the pencil.
The pencil could hardly believe it and his excitement was hard to contain. Soon he
would be picked up and used to write something. He could almost feel himself gliding
effortlessly along the paper as his led created words that the boy would read later as part of his
studies. Or maybe today he would help write a paper that would be turned into the teacher for
grading.
As he imagined the possibilities he felt the boys fingers wrap around his body and pull
him up.
The pencil was now buzzing with excitement when something unexpected happened.
The boy put him in his mouth and started to chew on him!
Pain is what the pencil could feel as he felt the boys teeth chomp down on him and grind
up and down his body.
This lasted for a long time before the boy finally released the pencil and put it back on the
table.
His body ached and he couldnt understand why someone would possibly want to do
something like that. He wasnt a piece of gum to be chewed on he was a pencil made for writing
and drawing!
Pretty soon the boy picked him up again and he thought the pain would begin again.
It did, but not in the way he had expected.
Now the boy was drumming him up and down on the side of the desk. Every time his
head it the wood his body would vibrate violently which caused him much discomfort.
Pretty soon when the boy was done with that he began rubbing his eraser across the
surface of the desk! The desk of all places!
Never once was the pencil used to write. The boy did no writing at all for that class or
the next two classes. He would just drum away on the desk or chew him up or rub the eraser on
the desk.

By the time lunch came there was hardly any eraser left and his entire body ached and
felt slimy from the boys saliva.
While at lunch the boy put the pencil down on a table and chatted with his friends.
The pencil sat in fear that this would be his life now. At least while he was in the pencil
box he was safe from pain. This was far worse than that.
While he lay on the table, staring at the ceiling, he noticed a fly buzzing around.
He could imagine the fly coming down and taking him away from this awful life. He
would rather live anywhere than to be treated this way.
The pencil imagined this so hard that he actually wished that the fly could pick him up
and take him away.
Almost instantly the fly did a figure eight in the air and flew right at him. When it was
only a few centimeters from his body he buzzed around a couple of times as if inspecting the
pencil. Then he flew away turned sharply and tackled the pencil. The pencil slid off the table
and bounced along the ground about a foot.
Immediately he was kicked and continued to be kicked by unsuspecting students out of
the cafeteria until he reached a small stair case. He was kicked one last time and tumbled down
a couple of steps before coming in contact with a piece of chewed gum midway down the stairs.
He was stuck. Not that he could move much on his own, but usually he could shake
slightly if he concentrated hard. However, the gum made it so that he couldnt even do that no
matter how hard he tried.
So he waited. And waited. The students rushed by him as the bell rang to signal the end
of lunch and the start of classes. He waited as the bell rang again and students flooded into the
hall only to empty it again a few minutes later.
The pencil was about ready to give up hope when the bell rang again and more students
passed by him.
When the hall was starting to clear again he felt something touch him. It was a pair of
fingers. Softer than the boys fingers had been.
They fingers gently tugged him and he felt the resistance from the gum. They pulled a
little harder and the gum released its hold on the pencil.
He was then raised until he was face to face with a girl. The girl had green eyes and
brown hair that fell over her face. She inspected the pencil and turned it over in her fingers a
couple of times and smiled.
Perfect, she said.
Without releasing her grip she carried the pencil down the hall to a drinking fountain and
put him in it. She started the water and gently rubbed him while the water sprayed on him. She
picked away the traces of gum and even cleaned the remains of crayons from off his rubber grip.
When he was clean she pulled him out and dried him off on the bottom of her shirt.
She then walked around a corner and entered a classroom where she sat down in the back
of the room.
The girl carefully placed him on the desk and started looking through her bag. She then
picked him up again and removed his eraser.
The pencil was confused when the girl placed a brand new white eraser on his top.
Thats better, she whispered and smiled again. She pulled out a notepad and clicked
his top so that the lead came out from the bottom.
She then positioned him between three of her fingers and pressed lightly down on the
paper.

To the pencils joy she moved him elegantly across the page as she created words,
phrases, and sentences on the page as the class went on.
When the class was over she placed him inside of her shirt pocket and walked to her next
class where he was used again to draw a beautiful picture of a fairy and in the next class to solve
math equations.
From that time forth the pencil was used and treated well by the girl. Better than he had
ever been treated by his previous owners. The girl would use him carefully and with great skill.
The pencil was never far from her sight and she used him for everything that he had ever wished
for and more.
He could not picture a better life than the one that he had with her.