An autobiography of pencil box
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Autobiography of A Pencil
Autobiography of A Pencil
My name is Pencil and please don’t ask me my initial. I am not grand. I am quite ordinary.
Perhaps I won’t give darker or lighter shades. I don’t have an attractive body. But you wonder
why I am writing my autobiography. I too have asked this question to myself and finally when I
got the answer, I started writing it.
Everyone and everything is special and when I thought hard, I found that my life can teach
something to the people. Let’s take a peek into my life.
When my lead is blunt, people sharpen me and it is painful for me. I get scared when the
sharpener gets close to me. But I gather courage and see the positive side of it. I am sharpened for
clear writing. So difficulties in life make us a better person.
I can’t bear naughty Ravi. I must have committed some sin to have got him as my owner. Every
day, for some reason, he would drop me on the floor and I would have to be sharpened. If this
case had persisted, I would have bade goodbye t
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I’m a pencil. I’m writing my autobiography. Let’s take a look at my life.
I was born in a big factory in the city. My name is Atlas. I’m smart and thin. I am basically made up of wood. After manufacturing, they packed me with different coloured papers. After my packing was done, I was transferred to a truck, and the driver took me to the stationery shop. In that shop, I met so many friends, like pens, rubbers, and erasers. The shop was very beautiful and was always crowded.
Amaan, my owner, finally bought me one day. I must have committed some sin in my life, which is why I got Amaan as my master. He was arrogant and harsh. He throws me against walls. He used to make me scream and listen to me cry. I’m always scared of sharpeners, but that child sharpens me like times in a day. But hey, this is not the end of the world. People sharpen me to make me look sharp, so I can write clearly.
One day was lucky for me, as Amaan misplaced me somewhere. Then he forgets about me. The next day
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Autobiography of a pencil box
Long ago inom lived with my family and friends in a beautiful deep dark forest…Oh! what fun we wind would whistle through our branches where birds built their els hid their nuts in the holes in our barks,while small animals and snakes wound in and out at the base…But in the name of civilization,wood cutters came and began clearing the forest…They began at the could hear the screams of our friends and it was our lumbermen came and hacked at the base of our three long hours…after several hours of painful ordeal we fell down with a thump….the smaller branches were sent to the pencil factory, while the main trunk went to the saw mill to be made into furniture…I was the del av helhet that went to the pencil factory.
Here began the next scen of shaved out our outer skin, and inom screamed in no one came to my they cut us into requisite pieces, and cleaved us into half..A piece of graphite was placed inre and we were sealed t