Words by Grace E Hall

I remember when I visited the village around the north province of Pencil Land. Everything in Pencil Land is covered in snow and ice. The village is resting between two mountain ranges that no one can cross. They have to pass right through this village, but travelers are still rare. The path is hard and I think this discourages most of them. But I was young then, and very ambitious; I suppose the thought of freezing to death was more appealing than to extend my journey by a day or two. I can't even remember where I was going. Anyway, I entered the village early in the morning, in the grey dawn, so to speak; the sun wasn't really up, but everything was sort of gray and foggy. You didn't realize that you were in the village very quickly: the path slowly grew wider and easier, there were the stumps of trees along the path, and then there was a house, and another— and then you noticed that you had entered the village finally.  I saw mounds of snow heaped up along the ro...

My day began as most days do when you enjoy the luxury and comfort of life as a teapot. Sherbert, my closest friend and companion, (whom the humans in the house refer to as a tea cozy) was lying in the crowded basket down on the counter, barely visible underneath Mary and Patches, two common hotpads with whom I speak very little. It has become evident to me that the humans do not value Sherbert like I do; and Truth to be told, he is a very plain blue-gray in color, with some brownish stains (burns from an unfortunate accident concerning absentminded humans and the stovetop). He is always stored in uncomfortable locations such as the back of the spatula drawer or under a pile of hotpads in the hotpad basket. From my lofty position atop the China cabinet, I couldn't tell if the humans had even bothered to stick him in upright or not. But, the distance that might separate us socially mattered little to him, and if it didn't bother Sherbert, it certainly didn't bother me. ...

        For the first time in four whole years, the small hollow tree was going to have important visitors. Though its inhabitants, the hedgehogs, thought that this tree made a great house, others of a more refined and high-educated tastes might think it quite plain. So, Ma was determined to make the house cleaner and more respectable than it had ever been nor yet dreamed it might possibly be. The hedgehogs Opal and Sara Tablecloth who lived in the house with their Ma and brother Timothy heartily enjoyed the cleaning processes that accompanied the daily house-cleaning routine, but the extent to which this occupation was currently being practiced even they were ready to call extreme. Everything was scrubbed and polished with acute care at least three times a day, and the floor was swept every single evening. Needless to say, when the day came that the visitors were to arrive, everyone was pleased, happy, and excited. Their guests were actually their cousins, and they ...

One late morning in June, “Carly’s Crunchy Crusts” was looking especially stiff and clean and picture-worthy. All the windows had been scrubbed with a reed brush, and several gallons of cleansing soap had been applied to the already-crisp white awning. The porch before the door had been swept clean of dust and bits of dry leaf and a delicious bread-y smell was emanating from the door.  It was clear that Carly and company had just finished their summer cleaning.  The door opened with a brisk tinkling sound and Carly, the store owner, stepped forth, smiling as she surveyed the downtown street.  The day was hot and sunny and the laughter of passersby sounded out above the rumble of passing cars and loud jazz music from the Italian restaurant across the street.  The air smelled like sun-baked stone, pastries, and fried chicken parmesan.  It was the perfect day to own a bakery.  Everyone seemed to be in the mood for a treat.  Carly was about to walk back in...