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.

"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.

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

That is a relief, I am glad that the person sitting beside me in class is a good one. "Did you all bring your pen with you?" Paris asked and everyone yelled out - "Yes!" While me over here, is panicking because I have not brought a pen with me! I am an idiot, how could I forget that a pen is the notebook's best partner? "Hey um, I'm sorry but do you have an extra pen with you?" Momo turns to me and then shakes her head. Ah what should I do? Seems like I've already messed up my second day in this school..

" Me too, I'm thankful we talked. " "Do you have a pen and paper?" © #KCMmuoe

replied Ella tucking her hair behind her ear. “Okay, but I know almost all his friends. I have never seen you before,” said the man in astonishment. “I am actually his pen friend,” she replied. “What? You are the one…Oh! I can’t believe you are here. Come on in. He usually talks about you and your world,” said man, letting her in. When Ella got inside there was something unusual “Wait a minute. Michel has promised me not to tell about me and my world to anyone in almost all his letters. How come you know…” she turned around the man but he was not there.

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.