Lavender Pen Novels & Stories

“Are you kidding me?” “Pass me the lavender.” I searched down the rows of flower beds until I came to the Lavender. “What do Lavenders do?” “Back in the old days, people used lavender in baking, embalming, relieving pain and for its fragrance.” “And who is all these for?” “Some witch that keeps breathing down my neck but she pays.” She stood, shaking the last bottle that puffed with purple smoke. “Speak of the devil and she appears.” “Hello, Mama.” A girl walks in with purple hair and a lollipop in mouth. She sounded out of breath but looked ready to run a mile. “I came to pick up my stuff. Who is this?”

She could not remember what was it, but it was important for her. Important to her. Wait, again! What about her little lavender pot? It was her most favourite! Her priced possession. It was her precious baby. Her uncle John imported the most expensive lavenders specifically for her from abroad as they were not available in the country they lived in. It was the most fragrant type which spread its scent whenever she walked in the garden, making it look like a magical garden from those fairytales. They were ordered in the memory of her late mother, Cassandra Smith.

Their conversations were not only about the past or the future anymore but also about them, about their fears, dreams, and the inexplicable reality they were living. One afternoon, Vincent led Abigail to the heart of Provence's iconic lavender fields. A sea of purple stretched as far as the eye could see, the air thick with the sweet, heady aroma of blooming lavender. Vincent shared how he often came here, seeking inspiration and tranquillity amidst nature's abundance. "I wanted to share this place with you, Abigail," Vincent confessed, his eyes mirroring the rich hues of the lavender. "I find solace here, and with you, I feel a similar peace."

I smiled at him as he handed me the new pen, and inspected it as I brought it closer to my view. “The design is similar to the used pen, huh?” I asked. “Indeed.” Taylor nodded. “It is quite a high-quality pen, bought from Bivorak Company.” I raised an eyebrow. “High quality?” Taylor cleared his throat. “That one in your hands, My Lord. Can last for several years with consistent ink filling. The pen that you just discarded have lasted two to three years actually.” “Oh.” I pursed my lips. Obviously, I won’t remember it. I am not Lancelot, and I rarely use a pen that needs ink filling back in my previous world. But to have a pen that can be filled up with ink, huh? That sounds really useful.

Alexander said while driving. Lily looked at him and smiled, "The most famous thing here is lavender. From June every year, the flower farmers start to pick flowers and then distill the extract to make various aromatherapy, essential oils, perfumes, soaps, and so on. Isn’t this what you wanted to show me?" "You guessed it all, so what's the fun?" He looked at her with a smile, looked forward intently, and increased the speed a little. He piqued her interest, creating an atmosphere where she could unwind and feel much more physically and mentally at ease. She let him take her for a ride without further inquiry.

We could see the several floors it moved as I made our way to the rooftop. I clicked my tongue in annoyance as my mood plummeted further. "They seem to already have everything ready and a good excuse. Probably because we need a stronger brand bla bla bla." I sneered. Lavender adjusted the glasses frame on her face, trying her best not to laugh. Lavender had honey brown hair like her mother, light brown eyes that were not as dark as Skyler's obsidian look. She always had a dignified aura around her and was very capable. She was roughly the same as me, just a year older, and had more experience in the industry. Plus, the relationship I had with her mother made her the best candidate to be my a

It just quieted, until it became something softer, harder to recognize. A week into my solitude, a small package arrived at my doorstep. No sender’s name, just my address written neatly across the front. Inside was a fountain pen. The same kind I lost years ago, the same brand Joaquin once said was his favorite. There was no note. No explanation. But I didn’t need one. I knew it was from him. And that tiny gesture undid me more than any apology could have. That night, I sat at my desk, staring at the blank page on my screen. My fingers hovered over the keys. The cursor blinked, waiting.

I stared at the bay leaves Eileen had pressed into my palm. “To attract your mate” she counseled. Oh boy! Bay leaves too? She handed me a little bottle of greenish liquid. “What's this for?” I asked, scrutinizing the bottle. “Perfume made with Lavender, patchouli, nutmeg and fennel” She replied. “And why the hell should I wear this?” “To attract love, and your soulmate”

It was calling my name like a siren, and I refused to ignore it. When I took it to the counter, I spotted a display of pens that caught my eye right away. I asked to see them and the lady behind the counter disassembled one for me. Oh, my, where had this pen been all my life? It had a roller point, but it used classic fountain pen ink. She let me try it and I knew it had to be mine. It didn’t feel like scratching the paper, but caressing it, and the dark blue ink flowed perfectly.

Camera flashes blazed like daylight. I took a deep breath, tamping down the surge of emotion in my chest. I pulled out the custom fountain pen Alexander Knight had given me from my clutch. The tiny SR mark on the clip glinted sharply. I uncapped the pen, my hand steady as I set the nib to the signature line. Swipe. The nib glided across the high-quality paper, making a smooth, steady scratch. Lisa White. The name blazed on the page, sharp and unyielding, like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon.