My Penpal Novels & Stories

There was no way that man was calling me baby on NearU. Except the post said three hundred feet away. I opened our chat history and searched for clues. The most revealing thing he had ever sent was one cropped photo of his abs, which was useless unless I planned to ask every man in the building to lift his shirt. Then I found something useful. Last month, he had sent photos from a stationery store. Help me choose a pen, sweetheart. I need something that makes me look less like a sleep-deprived academic disaster. I had picked a matte black fountain pen with a silver clip.

Suzie spoke, while Raiden and I nodded in agreement. Raiden and Lana took turns showing off their outfits, although Suzie had picked out a lot more clothes than Raiden had. While I did my best to show enthiasm, my mind was elsewhere. Every day for a week, I had been able to write about my feelings, and every day I had gotten a reply. Writing letters to my new penpal had made me stop writing my mom, which had filled me with a guilt I didn’t expect. Would she look down from the moon and feel disappointed? Or was she happy I was finally able to open up about that day to someone?

Adelynn stared at her retreating figure, a small smile tugging at her lips as nostalgia swept through her. ... Flashback... Spring had just arrived and the air smelt of sweetness and freshness. Adelynn sat on a bench in a park. She let out a sigh, a small smile curving her lips. Today, she was going to finally meet her pen pal, Leo. She could barely hold in her excitement and soon, her smile had widened to a full grin. Her golden brown hair was in a french braid and she was wearing a yellow sweatshirt, a pair of fitted white trousers and a pair of white sneakers. She peered at her wristwatch for the second time since she'd arrived at the park, hoping that Jensen wouldn't choose to call for h

“You said the world looks darker when no one understands you. But I see your light, Alexander. Even when you hide it from everyone else.” My chest constricted. The scent of old ink, the rhythm of the handwriting, it was exactly how my pen pal had written to me. But years later after Sophia introduced herself as my pen pal, and I’d seen her write, I knew it wasn't the same as the letters. Her writing had always been smooth. But these strokes looked like something I had seen before. I flipped to another. “I wish I could tell you my name, but maybe that's not necessary.

“Dear Pen Pal, Hello. My name is Wesley. I am twelve years old, and I am in sixth 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 become friends with somebody who doesn’t even live here, someone I’ll never actually meet?…”

And whatever it was… she wasn't ready to tell anyone. >>>>>>>> Adrienne's POV That evening, I sat on my bed staring at the pen Camila had given me earlier. I smiled. It was stupid, It was just a pen. But somehow, because it came from her, it felt special. I picked up my phone. I typed: Can I tell you something? I stared at the message. Then deleted it. I typed again. Goodnight, Camila. I sent it. Her reply came a few seconds later. Goodnight, Adrienne with a smiling emoji.

The rudeness had left her a little scared, but the impertinence in those words had made her laugh, so she responded. However, at some point that not even Millicent could say exactly when it was, it had stopped being about missing home. Her penpal had become her true friend and she found herself longing for answers or just to read about his day. Even through paper, they had created a bond that made her feel like they were talking face to face, even if she didn't know what him looked like.

The ball point pen said to the pencil. “It's ok. As long as she's pweeedddyy” the pencil replied. “Seriously, Micah…” “I like her pretty hair” the pencil continued. “I like her pretty eyes” the pen replied. “And I like her pretty everything” Micah said in his normal voice. I blinked rapidly. I hadn't been expecting him to cut it out so suddenly. Neither had I been expecting him to say…all of that.

A stack of yellowing letters scattered across the floor. I squatted down to pick them up. When I saw the familiar handwriting on the envelopes, I was thunderstruck, frozen in place. That was my handwriting. The recipient of every letter was addressed by the same code name—"Mr. Z." And the sender was "H." Those were the letters I sent through an anonymous pen pal club during high school to relieve the pressure of being the family heir. At that time, I poured all my confusion, pain, and longing for the future into letters to that mysterious "Mr. Z."

Ari's still looking at me, ignoring Brad's departure, "But, Dina, if you don't have a phone, how do you contact your parents? Your friends?" "I don't have friends." I tell her, then hesitantly adds, "Well, I have one friend. We're not talking right now, though. I send her and my parents letters instead of text messages." I turn away, embarrassed. I don't know why I just shared that with her. "OMG. I would love that too!" Ari exclaims so loudly, it scared the wits out of me. "Oh please, can we be pen pals? I've always wanted one. Can we? Please, please, please."