The Graphite Monolith

I advanced across the pine grain toward a thick, heavy-bound sketchbook resting open under the night lamp. Beside its cream-colored paper lay an unsharpened octagonal carpenter's pencil, thick and raw. Grounding the haft of my crozius, I extended my gauntlet to push against its flat timber facet. It resisted rolling, held firm by its angled sides and substantial weight. I nudged it flush against the book's sewn linen spine to form a true, unyielding barrier along the page margin. Here on this paper field, I established my post for the night watch.