Hi everyone! Hope you’re having a good day. Today I’d like to share a little something I wrote. ♥
||Autobiography of a Pen||
Sitting on the display in the shop, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug and excited. I was the newest edition and I couldn’t simply wait to meet the human who would accept me. Although I would be glad to be just accepted; it didn’t stop me from having preferences. What can I say? You try sitting in a display case for days.
From the shop, I have a decent view of the street. I see different kinds of people pass by here every day. After observing these humans, I have managed to categorize them into certain groups.
The first group consists of total lunatics, who have no fear of death and live life as if there’s no tomorrow! I am talking about kindergarteners. A few mothers come to the coffee shop every day with those little mean creatures. (Well, they are fairly cute; but they are vicious!) How you may ask? The other day, I saw them have a pen fight, where they pretended their pens were swords! Oh, I can’t imagine what those pens went through! They also have an annoying habit of chewing the ends of the pens! The nightmares I have of those pen-murderers. I shudder to think of a day I might end up in their hands.
Next, come the housewives. They come in here from time0to-time to get school supplies and when they get around to the counter for payment; I witness The Handbag Horrors. Their handbags are ENORMOUS. They are Mary Poppins…all of them. Perfume, stickers, little papers and cards, makeup, books, pens, The Alps Mountain Range, you name it. I do know one thing for sure. If I was accepted by one of them, then I’d have a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious adventure in there!
Next come the group, who is the greatest mystery of mankind. Teenagers. Riddle me this: Why do they bother buying beautiful pens if all they do is twiddle on those little boxes of theirs…what do they call it again? — “A PHONE!” Lexi, the handbag shouts from the other shelf” — She’s trying to fool me, there’s no way they’re called PHONES. Silly Lexi.
The next group is a rather sweet one. The grandparents. They always carry a pen with them and keep it in their pocket. They are, what one might call, old-fashioned. They buy a pen, and when the ink dries out, they buy a refill and give us a new life! I would absolutely adore being accepted by them.
The last group consists of businessmen and women. To be their pen would be a dream come true. Attending official meetings, writing important documents, their fancy signatures! If I was a human, I would be drooling right now…
“Ed, wake up! Stop drooling on the pillow!” someone shouted in my ear. I woke up with a start. My wife was frantically getting ready to go to some party.
I looked down at my hands, as though I couldn’t fathom the fact I had been born with them. Did I just dream I was a smug, judgmental pen sitting on a ledge in a shop!?
I repeated this to my wife. She sighed and said, “You clearly don’t want to go to the party either. Let’s just stay at home. I’m going to get some reading done for my book club.”
I agreed, firstly because to oppose my wife when she wanted to read was equivalent to begging The God of The Underworld to give me eternal damnation. And secondly, I had an idea. Instead of retelling this absurd dream at the Sunday Brunch, I could make something of it.
I sat down at my desk and began to write. The Autobiography of a Pen…
I hope you liked it. Any and all feedback (critiques are welcome!) is appreciated!
Also, sorry for being inactive, I have a lot of exams going on, and I’m trying my best to post more! (I have over 9 stories to edit!)
Thank you for putting up with me! I am so grateful for your support. Love you. x
Stay safe. Take care.
All the love,