Pen Name Novels & Stories

Author’s pov Lucas sat in his office, his long blue sleeves neatly folded at the ends. He occupied his usual spot on the tenth floor, surrounded by documents waiting for his signature. Each time he glanced at the name engraved on his pen, a deep breath escaped him. It bore the name of his ex-wife, Sweet Aurora. He had arranged for the pen to be customized with her name when he signed a contract with the pen supplier four years ago, a gesture of affection he once held for her.

Aside from Sydney, had there been other women in Caleb's life too? Caleb's tall frame stilled. That instinctive wariness of his took over, stopping him mid-motion. His eyes darkened, though his voice remained even. "Your nickname. Did you forget it?" "Ah?" Penelope hesitated. Panic flickered in her eyes, before she forced herself to stay composed. "Of course not. It's just... Well, it's been so long since anyone called me that. I didn't react right away."

I grabbed a black bag with golden writings and pulled out what was inside with sad eyes. She opened the thin box and looked at that pen she had bought for Kristen! You didn't buy anything big and precious because Kristen has everything around him so she preferred to buy something he always accompanies him and uses and even hangs on his jacket pocket everywhere! It was a golden pen decorated with the first letter of his name and the first letter of his surname, how I wished to see him open it!!! She smiled, trying to be positive: "Okay, okay, he'll open it after he wakes up! I hope he doesn't sleep too long."

had brought a whirlwind of emotions, and I found myself lost in contemplation, reflecting on the unexpected journey my life had taken. I had chosen the pen name Tuberose, a symbol of the fragrant beauty I sought to infuse into my stories. The world knew me as Tuberose, the elusive author whose words had touched hearts and ignited imaginations. But behind the pseudonym, I remained hidden, my true identity shrouded in secrecy.

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.

The room was warm and the food was the food of people who took their work seriously and the wine was correct and they ordered without spending long on the menu because the menu had the quality of a menu by people who knew what they were doing. He gave her the gift over the first course. Not a box from a jeweller. A small paper-wrapped parcel that contained a pen. A working pen, slim and practical, the kind she always carried for site visits. Engraved on the barrel in small precise letters: EW. Not a monogram designed for occasion. Her initials. Her working initials. The name she had built her professional life under, the name that appeared in every programme for every project she had ever co

To be sure, I decided to ask, “Aria, did you take this from the drawer yesterday?” She nodded her head and smiled. “You know, Zaiden, usually people use pen names in their writing career, but some people, like Den, use his pen name for donation.” As soon as she said that, I looked at the screen of my laptop, not wanting to meet her eyes with mine. She knew it. She knew that I was Den, yet she stayed quiet. “Why are you saying that all of a sudden?” I asked innocently since she was playing dumb as well.

He gasped in surprise, “How do you know my name?” “I know everything.” She smiled. “Well, my name is Aiden, missy.” The other boy said in a very composed manner. He stretched out his hand for her to shake. “Hello there, Mr. Aiden. My name is Penelope.” She shook his hands. “You guys can call me Penny.” “Would you like to see our toys now?” Liam asked. "Yes, of course." She smiled and said to them and then went inside their room.

“You are so full of yourself, right?” “How does it connect to not wanting to see your face once again?” With no intention of ruining my day more, I decided to just purse both of my lips patiently before I grab the first pen I saw on top of his table. My forehead creases when it is still stuck and I can’t seem to open the blue with gold ring pen. I check it and tried pulling the lid back up again until Mister Dawson cussed, pulling the pen out from my hold. “What the hell, it’s a Duofold Centennial and you are doing it like that?!”

He really didn't have to, as long as he fulfills his first promise of money. A random object fell on my lap. It was out of nowhere that I almost jumped. "A pen?" To be exact, it's a fountain pen. "What does it do?" I asked as I opened the glass case and took it out. It slowly glowed and the plain black pen was suddenly engraved with gold designs. 'S.D' It was written on the end of the pen in a calligraphy form.