I lay in a cluttered corner of the small plastic Box, with my dull point and my worn-down eraser. There is no light filtering through the grubby green lid of the Box, no light to comfort me. I've been in here forever, it seems.
It started in Math Time. It was the long division that did it. Every problem he could get wrong, he did. My eraser ground laboriously into his paper time after time. Then --adding insult to injury-- he loaned me out! Oh, I know they say they'll give it back, but do they ever really mean it? No! Thus, I was thrown into my new owner's pencil box at the end of Math Time, and thrust hastily into her desk before I even had a chance to look around.
It's all useless, in the end. Nothing really--oh! Light! A hand! Glorious redemption, here I come!
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Right now, I'm in a humongous Box. Well, it's more of a cylinder. It doesn't have a lid, and its sides are covered in a crinkly black material. I'm surrounded by three eggshells and an empty gallon of milk. I guess this is the Box where people put stuff they don't need. Out of the desk and into the backpack, they say, although the owner of the green grubby box was quite terrifying. She chews on pencils. I saw a pile of survivors next to the Box when the light returned. They lay there, to weak to make any noise. The chew marks that covered their sides said enough, though. By the time she'd picked me up, I was terrified. Unfortunately, I was right to be afraid. I suffered so much chewing through Reading Time. I never want to think about it again.
When Reading Time was over, my new owner simply stuck me in her hair, and there I stayed for the rest of the day. She took me home with her, too. We walked through her front door breezily, and I met her mother. When my owner's mother saw me in her daughter's hair, she had a fit! You'd think I was a rat or something. She screamed things like "Eek! What is that!" and "Get it out of your hair!" Don't judge a pencil by its company, I say. Anyway, the daughter stuck me in this giant Box. I suppose this is where I've been banished for the rest of my life, along with the eggshells and --Oh! We're moving! Where is the light going? Where are we going? What's happening to me!?
YOU ARE READING
Bite Size Babble
Short StoryOn-the-go stories for on-the-go people. No time? Grab a bite-sized story. Contains six stories ranging anywhere and everywhere, from fantasy to mystery to not-quite-reality, with stops at every Point of View in-between.
