Short Stories and Monologues

pencil's perspective

It was dark.
Darkness was all I could see. I could feel coldness, even though I felt other beings being pressed against me. We fit together nicely so we seem to be of a similar shape. We could go over each other again and again with the extra room there was in this territory. The scent of varnish, little traces of paint along with the scent of cedar wood swept through me. It's something very familiar, it's almost as if I've been surrounded by these things for a while but have just returned to the world of the living.
It came out of nowhere, it must have, there was no way that any of us would have been able to do it. A light started to shine near what I now know to be a corner, illuminating the walls and allowing us to see what's happening.
The walls were brown and seemed to be of an almost rugged texture, but it seemed smooth and light as if visuals don't even matter to this room. The light was very bright so it was hard to see at first since I was so used to my dark home which I have been in for who knows how long . I can tell now that the things in the space were also like me, except they were different colours. One was fire truck red one was ocean blue and there was even a sunshine yellow colour. I've never seen any of those things so I wouldn't know if the labels were accurate. Everyone was so colourful, except for me.
I was gray
I'm plain and boring, there was no essence to me , yes there was the gold inscription on my body to say what I was and who made me but everyone had that .but then again I did have some differences.
The tip of me was a different colour to the rest . Unlike the rest of them I had a black tip whereas they all had their colours. Red had red and blue had blue. I don't think this matters though . I want to be colourful; I want to be able to stand out.
Then suddenly a pink-ish yellow thing came through the light, I had never seen that colour before, it seems very interesting. I hadn't seen anything quite like that before , It looked like there was five of us strapped to something round , if I looked closely then I could see other colours within the circle , blues ,greens and purples. It felt around as if it were looking for something and then I felt preassure
We were rolling.
Someone had moved, we can't move by ourselves though, we only move when the room starts to shake. the thing from the light had picked up fire-truck and started to take them away , we couldn't do anything but just watch as one of our friends was taken from their homes.
It was back to darkness, it was a bit easier to breathe with fire-truck gone but it was if they never left. It was quiet as usual. It was dark as usual. I could smell varnish, paint and cedar wood as usual. I don't know how much time had gone past –I never do- until the light appeared again and fire-truck was dropped back into their home , except something was different.
They were shorter.
Fire-truck was once the same height as me – I don't know how tall we are- but now they seem shorter, their tip was broken and some of their colour vanished. Is this what happens when you leave home? Do we lose some of ourselves? Do we become colourless?
I don't' see that to be much of a problem for me but my concern for the rest of my pack is made worse by this realization.
The thing came in again, it started feeling around until it reached me.
I was scared after seeing what happened to fire-truck. I didn't want to lose what little I had. But I think that it was worth it
Well I thought it was worth it
The thing was spectacular. I could see many colours, some I hadn't seen in my life! I saw things such as beige. Magenta and there was another name for a lack of colour, it's black. Things were moving, many things were moving, I was moving but I didn't understand most of what I was seeing.
A visual overload is the only thing I can think of to call it.
There was green stuff out the transparent wall, those brown things look familiar . There were moving pictures on a square thing. Something which was really strange was that their was a white rectangle on top of another square.
The thing brought me closer to the white rectangle and pushed my tip to the surface.
A nice, calming sensation was what I felt. It was a sense of accomplishment, a sense of pride.
I had made a masterpiece.