In the heart of a wood which lost its name long ago, is a place where a seeker of stories may go. If you've arrived in a story's your desire, come, take a seat, for what you require is a tale from the second storytime. Well, there's just gotta be a clue in here somewhere. Find anything under the bed, Hilbert? Well just keep- oh, hello. I'm sure you recognize this place as my old protege's quarters. Well since he's not using it anymore, Hilbert and I thought we'd just tidy up a little in here.
Speaking of which, I would very much like to thank you for your patience. I'm sure it's been a little jarring having a familiar host disappear, but I really just want to reassure you that I abs- They are up to something. The first storyteller is surely, surely up to something and it can't possibly be good. Ah, please, you have to do something- Perfect timing as usual, Hilbert. Make yourself comfortable, dear, and we can begin today's story. Pencil Imagine a pencil.
You are a student, trying to write a prose piece on pencils. You bring the pencil to the sharpener at the back of the classroom and grind it until the point is sharp. You touch the tip lightly to test the sharpness. In your carelessness, the tip pierces your finger. As blood flows from your finger, you drop the pencil in your embarrassment and ask the teacher for a pass to the nurse. You curse the pencil under your breath and trudge off to find a band-aid. Imagine that you have no pencils.
You need one to finish an essay on penguins and other flightless bird blurbos. Your teacher was insistent that the draft should be written in pencil. You have waited until last minute and with no pencils, the school day looms a mere five hours away. You have been up all night, turning the house inside out to find one little pencil. After dumping the contents of your desk onto the floor, you find a tiny pencil, but it says dull as a parent's lecture about the good old days.
You find a tiny sharpener and you finally begin writing your essay. Unfortunately, you spent so much time finding a pencil that you have only an hour before you have to get ready for school. The essay is supposed to be five pages long. The time has come for some professional grade bullshitting. Imagine that you are a writer. Your deadline is approaching and you are behind schedule. You need a new short story and you needed it to be written a month ago.
Taking a sip from your fifth cup of watery coffee grounds, you pull your pencil out from behind your ear. Tapping the pencil to your nose, you curse loudly to nobody as writer's block fogs your brain. You have tried yoga, long walks, and all sorts of junk, but your mind remains clouded. Then you fall asleep, still clutching your pencil. You remember a story from your sophomore year of high school. It had something to do with bread and has no relevance to your current situation.
As you wake, you feel your mind lift from the stagnant wasteland of writer's block and you touch pencil to paper. Imagine you are a pencil with an eraser shaped like an orange. You sit in a non-descript red plastic cup on Halloween night next to a bowl overflowing with candy.
It is difficult to feel like anything particularly special when you are sitting in a cup, alongside eleven other novelty pencils, hoping that a child is going to choose you over any number of sugary treasures from the bowl next to you. You are thoroughly unsurprised when three girls in colorful cloaks float over to the table and rummage happily through the candy bowl. The adult overseeing the table suddenly lifts the cup you are sitting in and offers it to the girls.
You are totally unprepared for their delight, particularly when a hand lifts you from the cup, admiring your orange-shaped eraser. The girl refers to you as perfect, and your feelings of being unspectacular vanish in the crisp October air. You are now the most magical object in the world. There once was a girl by the name of Rosalie, living in a small village who wrote the most beautiful poetry with a bright green pencil.
Rosalie's sister, Madeline, decided to steal the pencil and use the power for herself. One night, Madeline crept into Rosalie's room and stole the pencil and a scrap of paper. In her room, Madeline touched the pencil to paper and waited for something to happen. Nothing did. Madeline tried talking to the pencil. She tried tapping the pencil. She tried holding it as tightly as she could. When nothing worked, Madeline snapped the pencil in half.
The next morning, Rosalie could not find her green pencil. She opened her pencil case and withdrew a purple pencil. She sharpened it and began the work of writing another beautiful poem. I have given you a pencil. It lies on a table untouched because you are unsure if it is yours to take. I've placed it there in the hopes that you will find it. This pencil can unlock entire worlds and allow other people to experience your thoughts and feelings. This pencil is a key to your mind.
This is an ordinary pencil. No no, back there. Wedged just behind the nightstand. Yes, toss that up here. Worst day of my life. The first storyteller enchanted every single stair in the tower to werewolf howl whenever I stepped on one. Truly this is what hell sounds like. Oh, I remember that. That was a very good day. Oh no, no no no. Not the journal. I can't believe they- Gives me an incredible idea. Thank you for joining us today, my dear. I really do hope you enjoyed the story.
I think I might just start working on a little something, so I might have an update for you on your next visit. Until next time, be well and carry today's story in your heart. Today's tale has ended, but return once again to this place where you are considered a friend. Return to this tower in its mysterious dweller. For more from the library of The Second Storyteller. Thank you for listening to The Second Storyteller.
If you have a prompt for a story, please send it to thesecondstoryteller at gmail.com. If your prompt is selected, your name will be credited at the end of the episode. Your first prompt was, rewrite something you wrote a long time ago, submitted by LM. If you would like to help support the future of this podcast, please consider becoming a patron by going to patreon.com slash thesecondstoryteller. A donation as small as a dollar is greatly appreciated and helps keep us going.
A donation of just $10 a month puts you on the list of current library card holders, and your name will be read at the end of the episode. The Second Storyteller podcast and the featured stories were written and created by Katie Chacon. The role of the second storyteller is played by Charles Scott. The role of the first storyteller is played by Katie Chacon. Today's voice of the story was provided by Katie Chacon.
The voice of the intro and outro is Chris Camp, and you can find the fantastic games he's worked on at rix.itch.io. The music was written by Fintan, who can be found at garbagebag, all one word,.itch.io. The second storyteller will return next month with more magic, fun, and of course, a story to tell.