He noticed it when he first picked up the pencil. It was a PaperMate Sharpwriter #2, made in the USA. He brought these pencils by the gross and had been doing so for years. So he was very familiar with them. The point of the pencil extended 1 inch from the tip of his finger, and the eraser end extended 1 1/2 inches beyond the valley between this thumb and pointing finger. Every pencil was made exactly the same. Every pencil extended 1 inch below and 1 1/2 inches beyond for every day for the last ten years.
Except this pencil today. This pencil was clearly extending 1/4 inch too far in each direction.
Was it possible the pencil was a freak? He went to the box of pencils and took another. It looked the same as the first pencil, but it too was just a tad too long.
They must have started making the pencils bigger, he thought. There was one way to check. He had a cup where he kept a few pencils so they would be handy. Pencils in the cup rested so that the bottom of the shirt clip just touched the lip of the cup. He took a handful of pencils and put them in the cup. Every pencil followed the familiar pattern, bottom of clip at top of cup.
He shook his head. This made no sense. In the cup, the pencils were their normal length. In his hand, the pencils were too long.
He thought about what was happening, trying to explain it to himself. There were only two possibilities. Either he was shrinking. Or the rest of the world was expanding.
He didn't know what to do. He was a writer, so he did the only thing he could do. He picked up a slightly too long pencil and started to write.
He was working on a story about... and this is the odd thing, about a shrinking man. He was writing about a shrinking man, and he was shrinking. Or, as he reminded himself, maybe the rest of the world was getting bigger. It is hard to tell the difference.
Whatever was happening, it was continuing. The length of his pencil relative to his hand was now a full inch too long.
He was getting scared now. He thought maybe he should change the plot and make his character start growing. But he couldn't. The plot simply wouldn't go there. The character in his story must shrink.There was no other way.
------
At that moment, I hear a chime. I come back to reality. It is Jeanne's timer. Our 45 minute writing period is up. Time for a break.
To be honest, I'm glad for the break. I couldn't see where this story was going, and I had no idea how to end it.
Jeanne has poured us tea. I go to get some. But it isn't easy. The counter is too high, and the cup much larger than I remember it.
Spiritual questions:
- In what ways do your narratives define your reality?
- What reality would you prefer?
- Which narratives do you need to change to make this new reality real?
This is one of the Parables for the Spiritual but not Religious Series.
April 04, 2019 - This piece was written at the Roundhouse Writing Group, Santa Cruz, Guatemala. The writing prompt for the session was: Write about something small.
The photo is by me. Do with it what you will.
