Penpal Story Novels & Stories

She wiggled free from my grasp and immediately sprang forward with her hand outstretched to the woman she had only just met, "Orian's wife, soulmate and uhm-he said I was a miracle just now. We met in an alley one night while I was lost and he was doing something immoral. That's not important tho, though he kinda kidnapped me and brought me here I love it here but I miss my family. Do you have a family? Orian makes me food, knits for me and combs my hair. Sometimes, it gets really windy here in your world, other times sunny and even cloudy. Sometimes, he massages my feet and makes me read to him. We are very happy together even if he's a grump and-" "Nice to meet you, my dear. I am Penelope.

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.

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.

“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.

After a while, their conversation drifted to other things—memories, random musings, stories about the past. Brayden told her about the first time he took over Giovanni Enterprises, the pressure of stepping into his father’s shoes, the weight of expectations. Penelope shared stories from her childhood—how she used to dream of being a singer, how she and her best friend would put on performances in the living room with hairbrush microphones. They laughed, they talked, and for the first time in a long time, Penelope felt something close to peace. Eventually, the car pulled up outside her apartment.

"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.

Adelynn stared at her retreating figure, a small smile tugging at her lips as nostalgia swept through her. ... Flashback... Spring had just arrived and the air smelt of sweetness and freshness. Adelynn sat on a bench in a park. She let out a sigh, a small smile curving her lips. Today, she was going to finally meet her pen pal, Leo. She could barely hold in her excitement and soon, her smile had widened to a full grin. Her golden brown hair was in a french braid and she was wearing a yellow sweatshirt, a pair of fitted white trousers and a pair of white sneakers. She peered at her wristwatch for the second time since she'd arrived at the park, hoping that Jensen wouldn't choose to call for h

Just insert my penname on here in place of firstname and lastname. I want to thank you for being the amazing people that you are! See you amongst the turning pages, Shana Allen