The Magic Pencil
The Magic Pencil
By Arnie Lightning
Arnie Lightning Books
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Copyright © 2014 by Hey Sup Bye Publishing
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. No part of this book or this book as a whole may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or means without written permission from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
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The Magic Pencil
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The Magic Pencil
Noah got off his normal bus and stepped out onto the normal street in the sleepy, normal little town in which he lived. He never imagined for a moment that this would be the weirdest day of his life.
Noah was in kindergarten, and he liked school but found it a bit lonely sometimes. He breathed in the crisp spring air that smelled like freshly cut grass and was glad to be home.
There were three cars in the driveway when he got to his house, and that was one more than usual. Noah did not recognize the car, a small, round golden machine that looked more like a gumball than something a person would drive. Noah walked through his normal front door and looked into the kitchen where he saw his parents sitting with a third person, but he couldn’t tell who. Then the third person turned and Noah broke into a sprint, leaped into the air and into a waiting bear hug.
It was his Uncle Eric! Noah loved his uncle very much even though most people said Eric was a little different. “Mad as a box of lunatic frogs” was a description of Eric that Noah had heard on more than one occasion. But Noah didn’t care. Uncle Eric was a magician and always had the very best stories about amazing adventures like the time he became best friends with the moon, or about how dragons make the best spaghetti he’d ever had. Noah’s mom and dad said dragons don’t really exist, but Eric had assured him that they are very real and are just quite shy and a little misunderstood.
When the bear hug was done Uncle Eric tickled Noah’s belly until he made a noise that sounded like a cat being very surprised by something.
“Where have you been?” Noah asked. He hadn’t seen his uncle in far too long.
“I’ve been traveling,” Eric said. “I met a very short man who turned out to actually be a very tall opossum that had just built a moving sidewalk, like the ones at the airport. Only this sidewalk went all the way from California to Japan. So we packed a bag and set off walking. In no time I was having sushi with the Japanese emperor who is a very nice man they call Doug.
The only thing Noah really knew about Japan is that’s where ninjas come from, and that was more than enough for him to excitedly ask, “What did you bring me from Japan?”
“I’m glad you asked,” said Uncle Eric with a mischievous grin. “While I was there I challenged a mermaid named “Carl” to a competition of underwater volleyball. We each wagered something precious to us. I, of course, bet with the photo of you I keep in my wallet.
When I defeated him, Carl presented me with this.” Eric reached behind his back and then quickly presented Noah with a small, orange pencil.
“It’s a pencil,” Noah said, unable to hide his disappointment. He had really been hoping for a ninja sword or at the very least some throwing stars.
“It’s not just any pencil, of course! It’s a magic pencil! That fantastic little utensil has been in the “Carl” family for millions of years. And you’re such a gifted artist already I knew it had to come to you. You’ll be AMAZED at what happens when you start drawing with this little beauty.”
Noah was a little doubtful of the whole thing but he said, “Thank you,” like the polite young man that he is and headed off to his bedroom to try out his new magic pencil.
Noah sat at his drawing desk, which was made of some kind of dark wood and was both much bigger and older than he was. Noah pulled a piece of paper from the desk and wondered what he should draw. Since the pencil had come from a mermaid he thought perhaps he would draw one of those. But when he began by drawing a series of curvy lines to depict the ocean he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure what a mermaid named “Carl” would look like, but he was certain it was not as cool as pirates. So he drew some pirates.
First he sketched out a large boat, riding high on the sea and flying the black and white skull and crossbones flag that all pirates had atop the mast, above the black sails.
Then he sketched the pirate captain, with an eye patch and a peg leg, and then a few pirate crewmembers who also had peg legs, because pirates keep getting into serious accidents somehow and don’t have access to proper medical care.
Noah couldn’t see how this pencil was magic in any way, but it had a strong, sharp tip and felt good in his hand. Noah loved to draw, it was his favorite thing and there was magic in that already, he thought.
He added a few finishing touches to the ship: cannon and some barrels that were probably filled with lemonade, he thought. And, when he was satisfied with his latest masterpiece he quickly signed the bottom right corner of the paper; because that’s what you do when you finish some art. And, as he did, he heard a tiny voice say, “Arrrrrrr!” and then the pirate ship that Noah had drawn just sailed right off the page.
Noah’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, he jumped back from his desk and looked about the room to see if anyone else was around to see what had just happened, but he was alone. Very slowly he approached his desk again to see if the ship had maybe come back, but on his paper there was nothing but ocean waves. And they were moving: rising and falling as ocean waves do.
Noah had no idea what to do, but he knew this was not what normally happens. He had drawn hundreds of pirate ships in his life and each of them had stayed put when he was finished with them.
Noah quickly wrapped his new pencil in a clean pair of underwear and tucked it under as many items as he could fit in his sock drawer. He then opened the door and called to his dog, Burt. Burt was a West Highland Terrier, a tiny, snow-white puppy that was more of an accessory to be matched with a lady’s outfit than a guard dog, but he was loyal and kind and would have to do.
Besides, Noah trusted Burt more than anyone. Noah didn’t have many friends until one day his father came home from work with a tiny, fluffy white puppy. And since that day they were a team.
Burt came running at the sound of his name, the little bell on his collar jingling out a tune that, to Noah, always sounded like the song of friendship.
“Okay, Burt,” Noah said almost breathlessly. “I need you to guard my socks, okay? Please don’t leave and whatever you do don’t draw anything!”
Burt barked a small, loving bark that Noah took as a “yes.” Noah gave his dog a little scratch on the head and said, “Good boy,” before heading downstairs to find his uncle.
Uncle Eric was in the kitchen juggling tomatoes and making spaghetti when Noah spotted him, and Eric smiled at his nephew warmly and said, “Hey, buddy!”
Noah wasn’t sure how to begin, but if anyone was going to believe what had just happened he felt sure it would be his uncle. “So,” he said a little nervously. “That pencil really is magic, huh?”
Eric didn’t stop what he was doing but said, “Well, the magic is in you, buddy. But it can definitely help you unlock your imagination and take you anywhere you want to go. Anywhere you can dream of.”
Noah said, “Right. Here’s the thing. I drew a pirate ship and it sailed away.”
“Well, that’s what pirate ships do,” Uncle Eric said, not taking this as seriously has his nephew would have liked.
Noah frowned a little. “It sailed right off the page. It’s gone.”
Uncle Eric dropped the pan with the spaghetti sauce and it splattered all over the kitchen floor. “Oops. Can you hang on a second, buddy? I gotta clean this up.”
Noah really felt like his uncle did not understand him or maybe in his world drawings float away all the time. But just then he heard a high-pitched “YIP” come from upstairs and he rushed to check on his guard dog.
Noah burst into his room just in time to see the pirates he had drawn dragging Burt into the page and aboard their ship. He rushed just as fast as his short legs could carry him but by the time he reached his desk the pirates, and Burt, were sailing