A broken pencil on a pavement.

One of my old stories that got me a decent grade in my class ^_^

            

            She twirled her pencil with her fingers, and stared into the dark blue sky.  She could see dusty golden streams sweeping through the landscape that comprised only composite blocks of great masses.  She couldn't see the ball of flame, but she could feel its presence, as it slowly but surely coloured the sky and brought back the silver lining of the clouds. 

           

            She stood up on the ledge.  She stared across the landscape that was hardly a landscape any more.  Three giant slabs of monstrosities allowed the UFO, disguised as a garden, to cast its watchful glare over the piece of cemented jungle it ruled with false grandiose.  The emerging rays glistened off their steel and glass, dictating their overwhelming presence.  They glowed like crystals under the watchful lens of the jewel maker, full of life and energy.  Yet, they never fail to suck all life and energy from her whenever she stepped into those crystal cages every weekday.

            She turned away, and peered down the ledge.  Working ants and transporting beetles emerged from their concrete nests, moving back and forth through the well connected networks of tunnels and roads.  She snorted.  Where are you going?  What are you doing?  What are you living for?  You think you have a purpose in life?  LIES!  ALL LIES!!  She flung her pencil towards the other building across the ravine, but it disappeared into the colony instead.

            Yes, dad.  I will go to university so that I can hit the books in my room and not be bothered with your drinking sprees.  Yes, mum.  I will read accountancy like you did so that I will live in regret for giving up my dream like you did.  Yes, my friend.  I will have a decent job at a Big Four and earn loads of money so that I will have a decent future and pay off your debts.  Yes, boss.  I will crunch those numbers day in and day out so that I can make you rich while I lose my sleep. 

            Oh no.  My dear pencil.  My dearest pencil.  She sat down and wept.  However, the dusty rays put their hands on her silky hair, trying to calm her a little.  Yes, thank you, I feel your warmth.  She wiped her tears dry and picked up her drawing pad and charcoal pencil.  No!  Not good enough.  She tore off the page and crushed it, the sketch of the jungle's twilight skyline, letting it rot among the other balls of disappointment behind her.  She had not slept a wink since the previous night, but she was determined to get her work done before anything else.

            She sharpened her charcoal pencil with her penknife.

           

            Yes, dear.  I shouldn't have spent my free time drawing rubbish that you never even bothered to look at.  I should have been cleaning the mess I leave around the house since you are never around.  Yes, dear.  I shouldn't have gone to that expensive exhibition that you will never appreciate and understand.  I should have used the money to buy you those dearer gadgets that I never get to see and touch.  Yes, dear.  I shouldn't have shouted at my boss whom you have never got to face his dumb arrogant face every single working day.  I should have slept with him so that he could give me a pay raise to pay for our housing loan, our school loans, our credit card bills, your travelling sprees...

           

            No, dear.  I do not understand.  What do you mean by you are meeting your friends for my sake?  What do you mean by getting sponsorship contacts for my sake?  No, dear.  I don't get it.  Why are you selling those collectibles that I couldn't even touch when you brought them back from your travels?  What do you mean by raising funds for my sake?  No, dear.  You must be insane!  You are telling me to quit my job because you have... Oh, my, god.  Are you serious?  Are you really serious...  Oh no.  I need more time to dig out my previous work and get new ones out... You also have... what?  The flight is next week?  Our own vacation house?  My oh my...

            She smiled, as she placed her finishing touches to the sketch, two figures holding their hands tight and sitting on the ledge of the building, watching the sunrise from the city's skyline.  She tore off the completed sketch from the drawing pad, took out a lighter, and lit.  She solemnly watched the flames engulf the piece of paper, unlike how she frantically watched the flames swallow the house they were staying a week ago.  He was still inside.

            The wind came by and carried the ashes and her tears to where they wanted to go.

            Finally, she stood up, held on tight to the charcoal pencil and the drawing pad, and stepped off the ledge.