Pen X Pencil Novels & Stories

Seeing Wilfred and Edith's reaction, Stella realized that she had misspoken. She was about to rectify her words when Wilfred said, "We have plenty of fountain pens at home. They're not THAT rare. Besides, it's the thought that counts. I personally think tea leaves are a better choice than a pen." Stella was a bit surprised to hear that. "But, I've never seen a Carpi fountain pen in all life," she said, trying to justify its value through its rarity.

“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?!”

She turned on the television and walked herself straight to the kitchen to grab herself some biscuits and a bottle of coke. When she sat on a dining chair, she noticed the new set of school notebooks and intermediate pads that were still covered in a thick layer of plastics and a box that contained the set of art materials such as the colored pencils, oil pastel crayons, watercolor paint set, a paintbrush and two pieces of sketchbooks. Her eyes widened when she laid sight on the art materials that she laid her hands on those. First, she touched the colored pencils that had the brand name of Crayola; it had a count of 12 colors - Red, Red Orange, Orange, Yellow, Yellow Green, Green, Sky Blue,

she says letting us get up and go get our colouring items. I picked paper and pencils, pencils are the safest choice, I know there are charpies, crayons, watercolours and even more, but none of them had my attention, I'm a terrible artist, I can write a story, I can create a world, but not any kind of drawings. I took my picks and went back to my seat, I was the first to sit back down, as the rest picked more than just one, they like to mix and match, while I prefered to stay safe with just my pencils.

The handwriting of a child just learning to hold a pencil. Our Family.

"Over a pen..." Esther retrieved her phone and handed the teacher a photo of the pen, casually stating, "This pen was a gift for Felix when he started school. It's a limited edition, one-of-a-kind, made of platinum and adorned with rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. It features 840 diamonds totaling over 20 carats." Having never encountered such a pen before, Megan promptly denied its existence, exclaiming, "That's impossible! Don't try to deceive me with some street stall item!"

After the officer spoke, the students who had been defending Tyson fell quiet and turned to look at him in confusion. They couldn't understand why he would use a red pen on something as important as the SAT. Everyone knew you were supposed to use a No. 2 pencil for the test. Tyson's face flushed deep red, and his whole body trembled as he stammered, "I-I didn't have a No. 2 pencil with me at the time." The officer looked at him steadily.

Some of them were in a broken state and some were so worn out that the color had rubbed off it. “Wow someone is obsessed with pens.” He picked one up curiously. “plastic. Didn’t just boat to me that he banned plastic usage. Why does he have a butt load of it.” Most of the pens in there did not have ink in them. After testing ten or fifteen of them, he just gave up and closed that drawer. Only one pen that was on the table worked. He opened up the next one. it was the same as the first one. filled with pens...

“Is it a good or bad name?” “Good, I think. Karan is a pencil,” Doris said, holding up an invisible pencil. Her brows crunched. Alek was stronger than a pencil. Why would he let them call him that? Maybe she could ask him. “Mr Mak kill someone with pencil. He stab neck. Stab. Stab. Stab. Blood everywhere. If he go out now to places, they say no gun. He take no gun. But he take pencil and pencil is not weapon. For him, it is. He stab with it.”

she said. "I think better with a pen," Elena said. This was the most basic true thing about her. She'd understood it young, the specific way her thinking clarified when it went through her hand onto a page, the way problems that were murky in her head became tractable on paper. Not just drawing any writing, any mark-making. The pen was how she processed the world. This was also, probably, why she cut toward herself. The hand needed to be in motion. Speed was part of how it worked.