Grey

    I was hopping along the table in my new home, just exploring the world I was in. I was on the lookout for danger. I looked for the sunny spots, the best views, and for hiding places. Us crayons would win the olympics if hiding was a sport. For weeks I explored, staying away from my perky cousins. When nothing bothered us for a long time, even though people came and went often enough in our little world, we returned to our box.
        I was so disappointed. I knew what I was made for, and I wanted to throw my whole self into it. A masterpiece is what I wanted to be. But, even if a child was to finally come to us, why would they choose me? A rusty old gray is a color no kid wants.
    One day, a child was moved into our room. He was a small boy with no legs. He wheeled over to our table and dumped us out. He pulled out a piece of paper from the pack that was on the back of his wheelchair and laid it out carefully on the table. The queer young boy then closed his eyes and waved his hand over us. His hand came down on me.
    Ecstatic, I do my best to creat a good looking picture for him. After three hours of the boy locking himself up in our world, I had a whole new perspective. Instead of looking up from my table home, I now look out above everything from the high wall. I no longer am a crayon, dull and gray. I am now a knight in shining armor. I'm a majestic castle with brilliant detail. I'm the color of the weapons hung to protect against anything.
                Life has been given to me through the little boy with no legs.