Pen Pal Story Novels & Stories

I looked back down at my notebook. After a moment, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pen. He held it out toward me without looking. I took it. Our fingers didn't touch, but they were close. The proximity of our fingers sent a current down my spine. "You've been staring at a blank page for fifteen minutes," he said. I sighed "I noticed." "Write something." "I was trying." "Try with a better pen." I looked at the pen. It was a good pen. It looked like all those elite pens that cost about a thousand dollars just for one. I turned it between my fingers.

She felt like a child just caught stealing candy. “Hey… I didn’t know you’d still be up.” She took off her coat and dropped it on the chair next to her vanity. I took in a deep breath. “Yeah, I didn’t know I’d be up either.” “And about the pen and Mac pad…” She sat on her bed and then focused on me. “I asked my mom, and she said her company made it but it was customized, and only one of it is in existence.” “Customized which means someone asked specifically for it, an electronic drawing pen that calms the nerves?”

I said, my voice hoarse. “The pen guy,” she said in a raspy voice and a straight face. My smile widened, “You remember me.” She nodded. “I loved the pen. I still do. It's still at home. It's my favorite pen.” By this time I could feel my eyes starting to water. " “I'm glad.” In the absence of nothing to say, I quickly added, “I can get you more if you want. How many do you want? A dozen? Two? A whole pack?”

Not even in my entire life, I had eaten this much. "So?" Blake raised his eyebrows. "So.. So what?" I furrowed my eyebrows. I thought we are not going to discuss the matter. "You wanted to tell me something, right?" Thank God. He was not asking the yesterday's incident. "Blake. I have one idea but not sure of that." I fidgeted my fingers nervously. "First tell me your idea before judging it by yourself." He gave me an assurance nod. Inhaling deeply I opened my mouth to let out my idea, "The pen is working awesomely great. So..so why don't we create more pen and..and--"

"Only the 'Author' can close a file. And Kaima... you gave up your pen." I looked at my hands. They were shaking. I didn't feel like an Author. I felt like a girl in a hospital gown who couldn't even walk straight. "I have the pen!" Leo shouted, reaching into his scrubs. He pulled out the silver pen. It was dull. The light was gone. "It’s empty, Leo," I said, my voice breaking. "I used the last of the ink to save the children."

She did nothing but stare at her pen while struggling to write. It’s so hard to write when my enemies are looking at me, Revi thought. She took a deep breath. I know how to use a pen, my mom told me how to. I just couldn’t bear Madreign’s pen. It’s . . . it’s disgusting. This pen was made by the ones who killed my mom. How could I hold this properly knowing that they made this filthy pen?! While having those thoughts, her teacher closed the window and said, “sorry for that. You may now continue. 3 minutes left.”

The room grew silent once again. The woman looked at Adrian. "What does it mean?" Before Adrian could answer... the pen in his hand began writing by itself. No one touched it. No one guided it. Across the empty notebook, fresh ink slowly appeared. Every new beginning creates a story... The sentence stopped. The pen refused to move further. Adrian frowned. "It wants me to continue." The Stranger's voice suddenly echoed through the room. Not from outside. Not from the White Book. From the Pen itself. "You once asked me..."

He watched Elijah hold Liesel's hand and coax her with a seductive voice, "There's nothing else that I want but for you to make me a pen, like the one Jacob has. But I want one in black, not gold." Jacob froze entirely. Did Liesel make that pen herself? Jacob wasn't the only one stunned. Liesel was as well. "How did you know that?" Elijah seemed to have caught a glimpse of Jacob and let out an inscrutable chuckle. "I'm actually quite fond of collecting pens. Back then, that old man made a few custom-designed pens, and I paid a small fortune for them. That day, I ran into you there as you were carving the design on the pen."

The cashier pointed to a nearby shelf. Holding the books, I walked to the shelf. There was a wide range of pens available. The cheapest ones were just a few dollars, while the most expensive ones cost over ten thousand. I stared at the price tags, feeling a pang of reluctance. But after some internal debate, I decided to buy it anyway. After all, if it weren't for Julian reminding me that I could draw comics, I wouldn't have found such a great side job and earned so much money. I chose a black pen and took it to the checkout.

“Don’t stay at home and overthink. If you’re bored, go out shopping. “I have to meet a client tonight so I might be back late. Don’t wait for me. “And remember to take your meds! I’ll check.” From this close, I could see the fountain pen in his shirt pocket. My eyes trembled. He found fountain pens annoying, so he had been using ballpoint pens for the past two years. However, the pen in his pocket looked worn, like it was well-used. I suddenly remembered how I had praised his writing when he wrote me love notes back then. He had seemed dazed for a moment before telling me he had a great calligraphy teacher, Mr. Swann.