When my desk started talking to me, I knew it was going to be a long day.

“Hullo there Jimmy, guid mornin’ to ye’.”

“Not today, desk, I’m really not in the mood.”

“Nut in the mood, eh? What’s bringing me laddie down?”

“Well, it’s…nothing.”

“Can’t be nutin’ laddie, there’s gots to be sometin’ on ye’ mind.”

I looked out my window thinking of the day to come. I sighed and put my arm on my desk.

“Ouch!” my desk said. “Jimmy! Watch ye’ elbow!”

“Sorry,” I adjusted my arm.

“No worries, laddie. Now, what’s bringin’ ye’ down?”

A lot, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t have it in me. Plus, it was still…strange. It had only been a few months since everything made from wood came to life and reached sentience. The invention was supposed to solve deforestation. Instead, it created new species of talking wood.

“Laddie?”

“Sorry, desk. A lot is on my mind.”

“Well let me help ye’.”

I sighed and was about to give in, but then a whisper came from my backpack on the floor.

“Pssst. Hey, Jimbo.” It was my pencil. He was a talker. “If the desk is giving you trouble, I’ll take care of him. The Scots pine is an annoying bunch.”

My desk laughed. “Oh yeh, I’m so scurred of ye’ ole number two. Jimmy, go write a few essays to get rid of dis guy.”

“Jimbo!” pencil yelled. “Let me at him! Write on the desk, Jimbo! I swear, I’ll scrape his top off!”

“No ye’ won’t!”

“Yes I will!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Guys!” I yelled. “Can we just-“

A commotion outside cut me short. I opened up the window. Two deep, reverberating voices boomed.

“Stoooooop doiiiiiiing thaaaaaaaaat.”

“Noooooo, youuuuu stooooooop ittttttttttt.”

It was my family oak trees in the front yard. They were arguing, again. I shouted out to them.

“What is it this time? What could it possibly be this time?”

They both shouted at once. I couldn’t understand a word.

“One at a time!” I yelled.

They stopped. My desk and pencil whispered below me.

“Ye’ laddie. Tell em’, Jimmy.”

“Yah, get em’, Jimbo.”

The bigger tree spoke first. “Heeeeeee keeeeeeeps bruuuushhhhhing intooooooo meeeeee!”

The other tree jumped in. “Noooooooo, heeeeeee keeeeps bruuuushing intooooo meeeee!”

I smacked my head. “Guys! It’s the wind. That’s all. It’s neither of your fault. Now, both of you stop complaining! I’ve had enough today.”

I slammed the window shut. I heard their muffled voices say, “Looooook, youuuuu maddeeeee Jimmmm maddddddd,” and, “Noooooo, youuuu maddddee himmmmm maddddd.”

I ignored the rest of it and collapsed back onto my desk. My desk spoke up.

“Jimmy, it’s alright laddie. Let it out.”

My pencil jumped in. “Yah, Jimbo, you can write as much as you want today. I won’t get tired, I swear. Feel better, Jimbo.”

I sat up and wiped the frustration from my eyes.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Yeh, Jimmy” my desk said. “Always here for ye’. What’s been in ye’ head if ye’ don’t mind me askin’?”

I thought about telling them, but decided against it. I felt guilty. I could never tell them.

“It was nothing, really,” I said with shame.

I couldn’t believe I even considered reversing my invention. I created the sentient wood, and I was about to put an end to it. But I couldn’t. They meant too much to me.

I said goodbye to my desk and picked up my backpack. My pencil and I were ready for another day. Another day of defending my invention to the world. I had a 60 Minutes interview later. That was going to be fun…

Who knew a silly school project was going to lead to this?

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This story was a writing exercise based on the following prompt: In an attempt to combat the global deforestation an inventor found a way to restore the earth. The catch? Every single piece of timber, all the processed wood everywhere slowly started living again.