Pen Pal Story Novels & Stories

“Lorenzo... Rom—” Before I can finish, a small voice pipes up from behind me. “That’s me.” I turn and find a boy standing by the hallway, holding a sketchpad. His dark brown eyes study me curiously, his hair tousled like he’s just woken up from a nap. He’s probably around six or seven. I smile gently. “Hi, Bryan. I’m Penelope.” He shuffles closer, still clutching his sketchpad. “Are you the girl who makes pretty necklaces?”

The rain fell heavily as spring turned to summer. It felt eerily similar to the day I died. The prison was cold and damp. Conrad had lost a lot of weight. His hands were shackled, and he wore thin prison clothes as he sat across from me through the glass. It wasn't supposed to be this messy. But he had been rebirthed, using ruthless methods to win over the Reeses' subordinates. Jonathan was so disappointed in him that he refused to see him before his death.

A Pen of Love. That’s what Adeline put the tag on the pen. It was written on parchment paper and then she glued it to the pen. It already been too long since last saw time she saw it. This is the reason why she met Drake and why she liked the guy. Then a sudden flashback appeared in her mind. *Flashback* Adeline is just sitting in her chair. Just looking around and listening to her classmates talking and what they are doing.

“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 disguised himself and gained her trust. Everything that had happened until now was in Spencer's trust. Spencer's goal was clear. However, there was one thing Ellena did not understand. Why did Spencer have to deal with Edward? Ellena took out the old pen from her body. Her expression was solemn. Edward, you must be fine. She stared at the pen for a long time and suddenly thought of something. She held the pen closer and carefully observed the pen. When she was young, almost everyone had this brand of pen. When the school used this pen as a prize, in order to show the difference, they would carve the winner's name on the pen shell.

Grace queried. "I just got a new story idea and the amazing thing is that I can now publish it on an online platform. I applied for a contract, so I just have to write several thousands of words to ensure I get accepted," Penny said in a rush. "That's great, I know how much you've been complaining about writing on papers. So what's the story about?" Grace smiled, sitting on the couch while Penny stood in front of her. "The story is based on you and Enrique. Your situation with your boss/fake billionaire boyfriend is a catchy storyline and I'm going to enjoy writing it," Penny said, smiling.

Cade wandered into the kitchen with a large pad and a pack of pencils. He wore a puzzled look. “Have you been in the den today?” “Yeah, I was in there earlier. Why?” “I can’t find my pens.” “I don’t remember seeing them, but we could go look after dinner.” “I hope I haven’t lost them. The pens have sentimental value. They were the first things I bought when I signed my first contract.”

He raised up his hand. "Worlds no. 1 Pen!" "Haneng's exclusive panda pen!" The girls shouted in joy. "Me!" "Me! First!" "No, I lined up first!" "No, It was me!" "I was first here!" Everyone fought for the line. "I said stopped!" He called. "But there's more!" He raised up the boxes of pen! "......" The girls could not believe it. They saw him just raised the worlds no. 1 pen! "That pen worth millions! I must have it! Even I have to sell my friend's information." All of the girls and boys cried for his pen.

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.

“You’ve always been the one people go to for words, Layla. It’s about time yours take the front seat.” When I got home that evening, something was waiting at my door. A small package, neatly wrapped in soft navy paper. No note this time, no name. But I knew. Inside was a silver pen—elegant, weighty in my palm, engraved subtly with three words: Your Story Matters. Tucked beside it was a tiny scroll of parchment. Write like the world is listening, Layla. Because it is. —A. I closed my eyes, pressing the pen to my chest.