The Art of Creativity and Other Short Stories

The Art of Creativity

The pencil. Beyond anyone's comprehension, incapable of recognition, or at least that's how most people pictured it. Maybe that is why people fear the unknown or things they can not understand. But what is so scary about a pencil. A harmless tool used for the benefit of humans, the ability to write things down and keep things in the remembrance of this world. I have that pencil, that "all-fearing" implement that creates...... yes that's it! I ran from my bed in frantic pursuit of an imaginary person from my new idea. Heaving I came to my friend, Martin who was staying over my house, hoping that he would as least hear me out.

"Dude, I told you to get rid of that.... that deadly thing," Mark spoke before I could say anything.

"I know, but listen to me I think I got it!"

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"The pencil, I know why they banned it from the town."

"Yes and I know too", Martin mocked me sarcastically, "the fact that pencils became too violent through the centuries so the government banned them as well as schools, you know just in case", he winked and smiled most likely happy that school was out for good.

"No, stupid I found that by the government banning pencils our reality has been altered to create a hindrance within this society."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He ignored me and continued to flip through TV channels, aimlessly without no real recognition of what I just said.

Time flew by and I began to really ponder on this issue. I really didn't understand what I was talking at times, maybe none of this is worth it. I began to pitch out my idea and every time I showed the pencil people got scared and threatened to call the police. Things weren't going so well, I concluded as I trudged my way home. How can I make these people see that they are being cheated out of their freedom? And why was it only me that has this realization and I really can't be the only one. The night was restless and I had a terrible dream that giant pencils were trying to erase me from existence.

I woke up the next morning tired, but ready for adventure. I knew what I had to do what I had to say in order for people to listen to me. But I needed help...... Mark's help. I ran downstairs and woke up Mark hoping this time he would listen.

"UHHH, what do you want"?, he said with a groggy voice.

"I need your help, I need you to drive me to Town Hall".

"What for?", he turned over on the couch not really interested.

"I heard that Magic was playing", I replied and smiled knowing that would get him up.

He shot up like a rocket and smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Well what are we waiting for?"

We got dressed and raced to the car and while driving I began to think on what I would say about this pencil issue. I began to get nervous, what if things went bad? or what if everyone ignored me? what if this wasn't a good plan after all? These questions shifted in my head, unanswered questions that that left me in a blank stare.

"Where is everyone, where's Magic?", Mark asked looking around as we came to a stop outside the building.

"Go drive around and tell people that there is an important concert outside of Town Hall."

"Okay, but I shouldn't be doing this they are already a good band", he drove off looking confused. Now I would play the waiting game.

"The time is now", I said with much enthusiasm enough for the whole crowd to hear my words. Mark had finally came back with tons of people in anticipation for some music.

"You all have been blinded for so long, the government has kept you from your true potential, that inner drive that we all have within us. This object right here", I held up my pencil the tool that has got me so far, the tool that helped me brainstorm ideas for this speech. As I held it up there were gasped from the crowds and a couple of screams, as well as confused faces.

"Yes I have this object this...... pencil. Why fear it? Is it because society has taught us not to touch or even think of it. Schools, office jobs, and other careers have been cancelled, because they carry this tool. And what have we been left with, a box that rottens our mind and diminishes our imagination."

I looked throughout the crowd and saw something in their eyes that gave me hope that I actually might be getting through to them. Some still seemed scared, but also curious about the things this 16-year-old boy had to say.

"This horrid society has hindered us from our art of creativity, this implement is the key to that, that sense of the ability to freely think. For some reason the government has taken that away from us, I do not know exactly why and what are their motives are for such an action, but I swear I would figure that out. I just need some to stand with me."

I looked around hoping someone would come up and take a stand with me. In the back I began to see policemen and federal agents push their way through the crowd, no doubt to arrest me. If I only had more time, I thought to myself. And just when I thought it was all over people began to push back the police to stop them and some others began to chant things like, "Freedom", "Imagination", and "Creativity". Mark found his way to the top of the steps and stood next to me.

"You're crazy man, super crazy", he shook his head and smiled, I knew he was proud of what I had done.

All I did was smile and laugh with tears streaming down my eyes and Mark dragging me to safety.