Life As a Crayon

It all started with the creation of my own well being. I was composed at a factory in Easton, PA on the 6th of July. But I'm not the only one to be constructed on this day, because the rest of my family is here in this oddly shaped box. My name.... Is R.E.D. Which is short for Retired and Extremely Dangerous. As I am swiftly jerked around by huge hands, I here the rest of my family screaming, almost as if they were on a roller-coaster. I barely catch a glimpse of a white truck labeled Rosetta, pulling up to the back of a larger building. My family and I are brought toward this other building. When we reach our destination, I can hear the soft whimpering of my mother(purple) and my little sister(baby pink) in the background of all these gruff sounding men. The men are telling the driver of the white truck to bring us to our rally point. ____________________________________________________________________________
After a while of being in the dark and musty back, the truck abruptly stops. The door opens and we are shocked and blinded by the bright illumination of the sun. Right when I start to believe that I'm going to die, the man grabs our box and a few others, and carries us into a new building. This building smelt like flowers blooming in the spring. The artistry on the wood walls was exuberayting. And the perfectly aligned shelves and stock was exciting as well. As we made our way down to the isle we belonged to, I saw a sign that said "Welcome to Hollywood, CA." This was our next home. I was starting to get a little dizzy from all the moving around. So I decided to take a little nap....(snoring excessively) I am awakened by a high pitched voice saying something about wanting crayons. As soon as I heard this, I was like, "Oh my gosh this is my chance to escape this box. So I started to move around so that the box would wiggle off the shelve we were on. Surprisingly it actually worked. So the mom of the girl boy picked us up and tossed us into this cold, metallic object. Soon after we were being scanned and put into a plastic bag. I was singing to my self about being able to see the open world once more.....

____________________________________________________________________________ We arrived at our "final" home and were being brought upstairs to this child's room. Finally, after so many days in this crammed box, we were free. The child said that we were in Albany, NY. Once free from our original home, I jumped due to the sound of my mothers blood curling screams. She had colored her last picture of purple. For she had been broken in half by this demonic child. ____________________________________________________________________________
Years later, my clothes(wrapper) had worn out into a blur of words and color. I ended up being washed down a toilet, once my height had shortened and my color was bland. Was this the end of my crayon life? Was I now useless? Yes to both questions.
I am now in the after life of a crayon. I see a sign that reads Death Valley California.

Once I saw that sign, I knew it was all over.

CK