Jess stared at the sharpened pencil lying on the desk. How could she be expected to write a story about ‘connectedness’ of all things? She should be exempted from this stupid test. Didn’t they know that it was less than a week since her mum had left home, forever?
All of the class was sitting in the school hall at separate desks with separating spaces between. Rows and rows of year sevens, quiet for once except for the silent sounds of writing.
The pencil had deep tooth marks all over, wood outside, lead inside, just like her, a wooden girl with a lead heart. The class mates who sat all around her were living breathing things with real human hearts pumping real blood and oxygen through their bodies.
Jess, still staring at the wooden pencil conjured an image of trees and whole forests. The pencil sprouted large branches which filled the hall. It set down deep roots to gather water far beneath the floor. Sap travelled along its trunk. A wild luxurious growth of leaves penetrated the ceiling and the roof, taking in air and giving out precious oxygen. Jess breathed slowly and deeply.
She picked up her pencil and began to write.
By : David Putra
