I’m a pencil. I’m writing my autobiography. Let’s take a look at my life.
I was born in the big factory of the city. My name is Atlas. I’m smart and thin. I am basically made up of wood. Then they packed me to different colour papers. After my packing was done I was transferred to a lorry and the driver took me to the stationary shop. In that shop I met so many friends like pen, rubber and eraser. The shop was very beautiful and was always crowded.
Ravi my owner bought me finally one day. I must have done any sin in my life which is the reason I got Ravias my master. He was arrogant and harsh. He throws me at walls. Ravi used to make me scream and listen to me crying. I’m always scared of sharpener but that child shop me like 1000 times in a day. But hey this is not the end of the life. People sharp me to make me look sharp so I can write clear.
One day was lucky for me as Ravi placed me somewhere. Then he forgets about me. Next day Ravi’s friend placed me to the desk of the teacher. Now I’m happy and glad. The teacher took me and used me very carefully and decently. Finally I was in good hands. I got rid of Ravi who was one of the naughtiest kids I met in my life. The teacher took me home and she has a happy family.
Every morning she used me with a cup of tea and checked his English papers. She only sharped me when it was needed and it made me young again. Now I’m in last days of life. One or two trim and I will be dead.
I lived a happy life after I get into a nice teachers life. I fulfilled the sole purpose of my life i.e. writing through my lead to help other people. I was a light and hope of education. Children learnt through media were a medium for their knowledge. It always made me proud that GOD has created me into such a useful thing.