Land of the Setting Sun
A great chalkboard hovered before me.
On it, I saw things I recognized: tiny markings, representations. They moved ever so gently across the board, the chalk moving exactly as it should.
Some of them did not move so nicely. To say I saw them would be an understatement. They stabbed at my consciousness with little toothpicks of annoyance. Rude. I brought a finger up to dispose of them, smudging the largest one under my thumb like a rebellious ant. They were fast, and frustrating, and that's when I felt something else in my hand.
Chalk.
The thing to do next was as instinctual as breathing itself. I lowered the chalk tip to the board, scribbling out drawings that would handle my bidding for me. They flowed seamlessly, and were able to multitask far better than my lumbering hands could. As I snuffed out the abominations, the pricking ceased. I sighed deeply, grateful to be at peace.
On it, I saw things I recognized: tiny markings, representations. They moved ever so gently across the board, the chalk moving exactly as it should.
Some of them did not move so nicely. To say I saw them would be an understatement. They stabbed at my consciousness with little toothpicks of annoyance. Rude. I brought a finger up to dispose of them, smudging the largest one under my thumb like a rebellious ant. They were fast, and frustrating, and that's when I felt something else in my hand.
Chalk.
The thing to do next was as instinctual as breathing itself. I lowered the chalk tip to the board, scribbling out drawings that would handle my bidding for me. They flowed seamlessly, and were able to multitask far better than my lumbering hands could. As I snuffed out the abominations, the pricking ceased. I sighed deeply, grateful to be at peace.
