Chapter 23: The Pencil

The Dream House

Book One

By the time I got home, the sun had almost disappeared.

The streets were quieter now.

Children who had been playing outside earlier had gone inside for dinner.

The air carried that strange calm that only comes at the end of a long day.

I unlocked my apartment.

Dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl beside the entrance.

Closed the door behind me.

And leaned against it.

For a few seconds...

I simply stood there.

Thinking.

Today had felt...

Different.

Not because of the abandoned building.

Not because of the photograph.

Not even because of Miss Carmen.

It was the people.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd spent an entire afternoon with complete strangers and somehow walked away feeling like I'd known them for years.

I smiled to myself.

Then looked down.

The little brown package.

I had almost forgotten.

I carried it into my tiny studio apartment and placed it carefully on my worktable.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of my refrigerator.

Half-finished sketches covered one wall.

Blank canvases leaned against another.

The smell of acrylic paint still lingered from yesterday's work.

Home.

I untied the string slowly.

Almost afraid of ruining the paper.

Inside...

Was a pencil.

I frowned.

A pencil?

Not just any pencil.

It was old.

Very old.

The wood had darkened with age.

Its surface had been polished smooth by years of use.

Near the top...

Tiny carved letters.

J.L.

I turned it over in my hand.

It wasn't expensive.

It wasn't gold.

It wasn't magical.

It was...

Used.

Very used.

A folded piece of paper slipped from the wrapping.

I unfolded it.

Only one sentence had been written.

"Some tools carry more than talent."

No signature.

Nothing else.

I stared at the pencil again.

Then at the note.

Then back at the pencil.

"Seriously?"

I laughed to myself.

"You gave me... a pencil?"

I placed it on the desk.

Sat down.

Opened my sketchbook.

Picked up one of my regular pencils.

Then stopped.

My eyes drifted back toward the old one.

Curiosity won.

I reached for it.

The wood felt strangely warm.

Probably my imagination.

I smiled.

"This better be worth the mystery."

I lowered the pencil to the page.

The first line...

Felt different.

Not smoother.

Not sharper.

Just...

Comfortable.

Like shaking hands with someone you'd met before.

Before I knew it...

Thirty minutes had disappeared.

Then an hour.

Then two.

Sketch after sketch filled the pages.

Faces.

Hands.

Buildings.

Miss Carmen.

Luna laughing.

Selena pretending not to laugh.

Sinnad.

I stopped.

Looked at the page.

Apparently...

I'd drawn him four times.

I blinked.

"When did that happen?"

I quickly flipped to another page.

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Selena.

Selena: Are you still awake?

I smiled.

Me: Obviously.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Selena: Did you open it?

I looked at the pencil.

Me: Yeah.

Another pause.

Selena: So?

I looked down at the sketchbook.

At the page I definitely hoped nobody would ever see.

Especially Sinnad.

Me: It's... just a pencil.

Almost instantly...

My phone rang.

Selena.

I answered.

"Hello?"

"Maya."

"Yeah?"

"You're lying."

I laughed.

"What?"

"I can hear it in your voice."

"You've officially lost your mind."

"No."

She replied confidently.

"I've known you long enough."

Silence.

Then she asked quietly,

"What did you draw?"

I looked at the sketchbook again.

Specifically...

At the fourth drawing of Sinnad.

"...Nothing."

"You drew him."

I nearly dropped the phone.

"WHAT?!"

"I knew it."

I covered my face with one hand.

"You are impossible."

"No."

She laughed.

"I just know artists."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"...Maybe a little."

We both laughed.

Then...

She became serious.

"Maya."

"Yeah?"

"I think that pencil belonged to his father."

Silence.

Complete silence.

I slowly looked down at the carved initials.

J.L.

Suddenly...

The package didn't feel nearly as ordinary anymore.