15:13   08/11/2002

To my dear Sw…

I found something today. On the ground. And yes… I still pick things up from the ground. And yes, while most folk see trash, I still enjoy the treasures. You know me. I’m weird.

Today, I walked out to the docks. Such pleasant weather. The trees looked happy. Lucifer was free to shine, with not a cloud in sight. And yet, it wasn’t too hot. Maybe the fresh breeze that always lingered by the docks was to thank for that. The docks area had a small section where folk could do their PT. With iron playgrounds still shut because of the plague, I went to make the most of my body.

That’s when I found this said item. A pencil. A classic tool for penmanship. Something I, as a writer, hold particular regard for. I was about to walk away and continue my day. But then I heard a voice in my head say “Oh cool. A pencil.” That was enough to make me stop. My curiosity was enough to make me pick it up. My madness was enough to make me keep it. Who knows what I was going to do with it. But it didn’t matter. It was already too late. The pencil was mine.

After my exercise, I needed to relax somewhere. I sat by the water. Often the right place to ease the mind. Sitting there, I noticed the wooden planks that all formed this pier. But all I truly saw was an endless open canvas. Surface to lay art. This pencil in my hand didn’t help that. And so I wrote a spell. A gentle one, of course. Nothing heavy. Just a simple gesture to open some eyes.

I wonder what has happened with some of the stronger spells I had laid about the worlds. I wonder what has happened to the folk that those spells had dazzled. Are they well? Are they empowered? Are they wistful? Do they seek me? Do they even exist? Or has my magic no power in the commercial world?

But I left much of my essence within it. I’m sure most folk will be grateful for that.

The spell I wrote was a short, simple one. But I left much of my essence within it. I’m sure most folk will be grateful for that. It will ensure them that a real man was behind the works, and not some fake robot of a man trying to be arcane.

The spell was not too noticeable. Difficult to see. That was the beauty of it. Only the truly wonderous would dare lay eyes upon it. And the lambs? Heavens save them. Not my concern.

I wonder about the previous wielder of this pencil. I can only gather so much about them. They must have been a builder. Some sort of duties involved in building and craftsmanship. The style of pencil explained that much. Flat in shape, not cylindrical, so that it could never roll away.

The pencil had been put to good use. It lived a good life, fulfilling duties and such. You could tell by the length of it. It was not long and fresh. It was short and shaved down from years of use. The wielder must have also been skilled. The way the pencil’s edge was sharpened appeared durable. Not too short or too long. Structurally stable enough so that it could hold its form while still providing plenty of lead. I’ve seen pencils sharpened too short, where the wielder aimed straight for the lead. Those didn’t often last too long. The lead would easily break, from lack of support. I’m guessing a pencil sharpened too long would mean the wielder had too much time. Not the must desirable quality for a craftsman nowadays. But whoever used this pencil beforehand was not green. You could see the excellence in the way this pencil was sharpened.

The pencil was must have been out there in the wilderness for a while. Much of its coating had flaked off. Signs of wear and tear. There were also many bumps and groove embossed into the body. It must have been ran over several times by wagons and carriages. It may have also found its way into the mouths of a few hounds. It did look to be chewed upon. I wonder how long it was forgotten for. It seemed I found it before it got the chance to wear away further.

And now the question is, what will I do with it? I do not have any duties that require its abilities. Well, not anytime soon. I have not done any build work in a long while. Will it have to wait until I have to build again? And most my penmanship is painted with ink. I already have many assigned pens for my different works.

We’ll see. I may find it a place in my arsenal. Or maybe, it will be forgotten, never to serve again. Well, maybe ‘forgotten’ is the wrong word. I have just written about it. So now this pencil is immortal. It has already done what it has needed to do. And now it can rest in peace.

I’ll end it here. I soon have a cigar to enjoy. It will be Felix’s first proper smoke. Let’s hope it smokes well.

Love from yours truly

Daniel Roy