The Pen

I couldn’t find the pen. It was my lucky pen – I had to have it. I couldn’t write without it.

Where was it? My notebook lay forlorn with no pen next to it. I searched the floor, the bedding, the couch cushions. No pen. I looked under furniture and in pockets.

I was done for. I could not finish my book without that pen.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “the pen.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “The Pen”

  1. Some establishments tie their pens down to the counter. I understand why they do it because I am a compulsive pen thief. There is just something about how certain pens feel in my hand and the way the ink flows when I touch it to paper. I was caught red handed about a year ago and I have to admit it was a bit embarrassing. Lesson learned…..I know simply ask if I can have the pen and to my delight, most people are very happy to give it to me.

  2. To say it was my lucky pen was an understatement. It was the pen that I could do without — the only thing he ever gave me, along with a crooked smile and the absoluteness that comes with a prophecy, as he said, “Good luck out there, kid.” And now I’m here, pen-less. How am I to have good luck if my lucky pen is nowhere to be seen? I sit, look around, and take a deep breath, trying to keep the crying on the inside.

  3. There it was in the display window of the pen boutique—the “Ingrid Bergman La Donna” fountain pen from Montblanc®. She recognized it immediately by its feminine shape, the color of the cap and its simple elegance. It was beautiful, and she knew that this beauty had a price.

    She entered the elegant boutique with the resoluteness of a bona fide fountain pen collector, unaware of the surprise she was about to receive.

  4. I always had this pen and I decided to discover what they made it for. It was long and thin so I tried to put it in a flute and play. The sound was not so good. I tried to use it to unclog the sink: it was good at it, but something was wrong. I went out and tried to give it to a stranger. The stranger gazed at it with sympathy but said he had “no paper”. I tried to blow into: funny, but not that funny. I prefer the flute. At the end of the day, a friend came. “It’s to write” he said. But, sure! Everything is so obvious once they’ve told you.

  5. My kids told me I was embarrassing them by asking for a fountain pen in a shop full of gel pens , ball point pens , in-built refill pens , and pens that had to be thrown once their ink was over ,like used diapers . It sounded like sacrilege.
    I insisted . Not only did I want an ink pen , I also wanted a bottle of ink!.
    “Mom!” My kids were incredulous , “No one uses these things any more !”
    They sounded as if I had packed my bags and started living in a museum.
    Maybe transformed into a dinosaur.

    That was two months ago . Two weekly tests and numerous maths sums later , the kids are warming up to the idea of an ink pen , that never “runs out of ink” and that , magically seems to solve difficult algebra sums.(that the person using the pen is to be thanked , doesn’t seem to occur to them)

    Now that enough blank pages have been blackened and lot of water has flown through the Ganges , my daughters are clamouring for one each of the “ancient ink pen , that solves sums .”

  6. “Why do you think the pen is mightier than the sword?”said Ella. Her sister tried to explain to her you have a better chance of a restitution by writing what happened on Facebook than wasting your time arguing with the Construction
    Company. Makes sense thought Ella. And what a story she had to tell.

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