My Penpal Novels & Stories

I smile despite myself, tracing the words with my finger. It started in elementary school—second grade, specifically. Our English teacher had assigned us pen pals as a way to practice letter writing. I'd thought it was unnecessary. I didn't need friends, especially ones I couldn't see or evaluate for intelligence. But I also didn't want to get on Mrs. Peterson's bad side, so I'd participated. And immediately regretted it. My pen pal was a jerk. He refused to share his name, age, or location. He only said he was male and wanted to be addressed as "X." I'd thought it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard.

The man did not say anything, so she pursed her lips and said softly, “Okay. Thank you, Aunty.” “We’re a family. There’s no need to be so formal!” Velma was overjoyed that Lyra was staying the night. Julien took a shower but did not rush to go to sleep as he had to handle some paperwork. He pulled the drawer to get ink but opened the wrong drawer instead. At the bottom of the drawer, he saw a neat stack of yellowed envelopes. The man’s eyes subconsciously softened at the sight of those letters. He met this pen pal named ‘Maple Leaf’ unexpectedly, and they slowly got to know each other. After many exchanges, they found out that they got along very well.

Oh and if you want to talk about the books some more, you can always find me on f b with my pen name. Thank you all so much again. I hope you are all doing great in your part of the world. Until the next book... Love, KM

"All 43 of them. I kept every one." She opened the top envelope. The familiar handwriting stared back at her, and her eyes widened. Her fingers clenched unconsciously around the paper. This was the very letter she had written at age 16. Back in high school, Emma had already begun writing novels, only to be rejected again and again by publishers. Unwilling to give up, she sought out a pen pal known only as "Zayn", to whom she sent her manuscripts for feedback. It was an age when the internet was already common, but she loved this slower, more intimate form of exchange. Luckily, Zayn shared her passion. They quickly became confidants, telling each other everything.

I’ll probably bug you guys until the end of time, begging you to keep proofreading my stories, but it’s your own fault; you’re just too awesome. To my core-eight buddies: Alexandria Bishop, DB James, Hilaria Alexander, Jodie Larson, K. Street, Megan Green, and Stacey Grice. I feel as if you have this shit down way better than I do, but thank you for allowing me to be part of the group, anyway. Then, massive amounts of love to my current pen pals: Lindsay Brooks, Cin Rule, Soha Khalil, and Everly Lucas! Thanks for talking to me about everything and nothing! You always make my day brighter.

************ PEBBLES' POV I stained the atmosphere with pain. It flowed from my eyes in endless streams of tears. It gasped from my mouth as I choked on my breath. It bled from my heart and percolated from my soul. My head hung low, heavy with thoughts of him; Badboy2.0. I must have read his email a hundred times, and it impaled me every time. He hated me now. I tried to send him a reply, but he disbanded his emails. I logged into Find A Penpal and the reality was the same. He deactivated his Badboy2.0 profile. “Thank you, Cookie.” I gave her back the phone. “His cell is off,” I sniffled.

"All the other students will be jealous." He giggled, that pure sound that made me forget, just for a moment, where we were and what our circumstances were. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small pen I had found in my room. It was nothing special, really, just a simple writing instrument with a lot of sparkle in the cap. But Cam's eyes widened like I had handed him a treasure. "This is for you," I said, placing it in his palm. "It's a wishing pen." "A wishing pen?" His voice was hushed with wonder.

I sighed, placing the coffee mug on the table and leaning my head back, staring out of the window and my mind took me into memory lane, 8 years back. I was a teenager then and still deciding on what to do with my future. Among the few friends I had during school, I had one friend that many didn’t know of. A pen pal. We had never physically met but occasionally talked on this app where we could connect with people of similar interests. Sometimes it’s easier to share your emotions with people you don’t know personally, with people you have never met because you aren’t scared that they might judge you. And even if they do, you don’t care much because it’s just a stranger.

If there is such a thing as boys being nice, I take my pen and paper and begin writing my semi-best letter in hopes it's readable. Dear max, I am glad I got you as a pen pal. Hopefully, you'll be a good friend one day, and I can learn a little bit about New York and the things you like to do there or your favourite hobbies and foods. My teacher assigned us to our pen pal, and I have never had a pen pal before, so it will be nice to have someone to write a letter to each month, luckily for you, I am your pen pal, so here is a little bit about me.

Dear Pen pal, Hello. My name is Wesley. I am 12 years old, and I am in 6th grade at Crescent Lake Elementary in Northern California. I’ll be honest, I am only writing this letter because my teacher said we have to. She said if we don’t, we’ll get an F, and I am not about to fail an assignment and ruin my track record of perfect grades. Plus, my dad would probably ground me or something. Anyway, I don’t really want a pen pal. I have friends here at school already, so why would I need to make friends with somebody who doesn’t even live here, someone who I’ll never actually meet?