Pen Pal Story Novels & Stories

"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.

“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?…”

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.

Amairah Garcia's POV: I glanced at the broken nib of my pen as I sighed thinking I didn't applied that much force that it could break or that was of cheapest quality but how could they give a Queen the cheapest quality of pen. It must be the force I had applied or the pen was getting old just like me lying in the same room since I had gained consciousness.

Don't forget to drop your comments, most especially what you anticipate for the sequel. I drop my pen. I AM NOTHING BUT A PENCIL IN THE HAND OF THE CREATOR. LOVE YOU ALL

Dad said that I would now be needing more pens as my work is now corporate one, these pens all has may name on it, an engraved one. I opened and looked at it one by one, I do not want to use it as these are the last memoir I have with dad. I was about to put it back on the box when I opened the last pen and it has a built-in flash drive in it, in my surprised, I stare at it for a while.

If Ruby wasn’t sitting so far away from me, I’d kick her under the table to tell her to shut up. “I’d like to see it too!” Penny said excitedly, looking between my father and me. “Oh, honey. Remember when you used to write those silly stories?” Penny laughed. “I’m sure Tessa’s writing is much better.”I stared down at my plate, feeling a wave of aggravation. “I’ll send you the link,” I murmured.

⸻ Silence. Ilyaan nodded. ⸻ Then answered. ⸻ “And we created relationships.” ⸻ The library froze. ⸻ The Writer stared at him. ⸻ Because for the first time… Someone had found the flaw in his logic. ⸻ Stories end. ⸻ Relationships continue. ⸻ 🌙 The Pen Breaks Suddenly— The silver pen beside Ilyaan cracked. ⚡ ⸻ Everyone froze. ⸻ The blank page exploded with light.

"Most characters would have given up three versions ago. But here you are, still trying to break the glass." "I am not just a character anymore," I told him, stepping forward. Bryan stayed by my side, his hand tight on his gun. I could feel the golden pen in my pocket. It was still warm, still humming with the energy I had taken from the draft room. "I am the one who finishes the story."

Caela said: "Yes." She said: "How." Caela said: "The pen always stops differently at the end." She said: "How." Caela said: "It stops and does not start again." She said: "Yes." She said: "You listen for that." Caela said: "Yes." She said: "Why." Caela said: "Because when the pen stops and does not start again something is complete. And I want to know when things are complete."