Power of the Pen

A story by me, hallelujaaaahh :D I mean, like whuuuuut. How did I steal the time to write this I should be studying and getting better grades but tadaaaa.

Chapter 1

Power of the Pen

I felt my head being gripped, her rough hand rubbing roughly. She was either nervous, or just, well... nervous.

It's been more than a week, and ever since she bought me, I felt like I was mistreated.


For one thing: she brings me everywhere.


If she was simply going to the coop to buy snacks or anything that'll fill up her belly, she would bring me. And I would be shook around mercilessly, or handled so tightly that my sides would feel so abused. Most of the time, I hated it. Loathed it, even. It was just too much. But sometimes, when I know she feels so, so unsure, I feel loved.

Another thing is: the way she grips me.

When she writes, she doesn't exactly place me correctly on her fingers. She doesn't slant her hand - she glides me all around the paper stiff straight. My bottom is even starting to leave this rough patches of marks on the middle joint of her middle finger because of her positioning. She writes queerly. Even her classmates commented on it. Her grandfather too. Once, he looked at her as she wrote this fudging long essay about a painter, and he said, "Did your school even teach you how to write?" Write literally, not figuratively. Apparently, she takes pride in her writings.


It's quite tedious, how the girl won't leave me alone. But I knew about her life.
Yep, that I did know.


A few weeks ago, she went to the coop and walked slowly. Thankfully, I was forced on her skirts' pocket. Unfortunately, her hand was jammed on her pocket, gripping my sides. I even felt my head being scratched by the chips - that was their currency.

She walked slowly, dragging her feet, probably. I wouldn't know. Like dude, I can't see! It's all darkness and rough skin around there.

Finally, when I felt like I couldn't take it anymore as I was suffocating, she took out her hand, as well as some chips, and her skirts waved around with her every step. For a second, she stood still, but I felt her huff. I knew when she was huffing and sighing - I felt it.


One day, she sighed.

I was out of her pocket now, and she was at the tree in front of the building where her classroom was situated. She was not alone, I saw. And heard. Goodness, those doofuses were loud. The majority of the people that was with her was male, and she was simply laughing awkwardly at their jokes. Or faces. I couldn't differentiate.

Once, she laughed so hard, and even doubled over. But I knew it was an act - the joke that Fatty made couldn't even be classified as a joke, it stunk so bad. But dammit, I was the one who suffered. She started to slap me on her thigh.

When the girl regained her control, I felt her catch her breath. She was still, silent, and awkwardly looking around the atmosphere. I could see everything from here, and I shall tell.

Fatty and Glasses, oh, and Fatty Point Five - I shall call him Porcupine since it's too confusing - and Gurang were pushing each other around, and this really thin and pale guy, I think he even matched the girl's paleness, and her paleness was really... pale! But yes, Broomstick - that thin, pale guy - left his classroom and headed straight for the Idiot Four, which was the group the girl was laughing at.

Well, he approached Porcupine and directed him away from the group with two steps and faced back. They whispered to each other for a little while, somehow though, the Idiot Four managed to reassemble with Broomstick and they seemed so serious. Glasses even gripped the basketball under his arm without doing anything with it.

Their conversation looked very solemn from here.

"What the eff," I heard her mumble. Usually, she just mumbled questions under her breath - this was a normal occurrence. The girl furrowed her eyebrows, but then stood up from her sitting position and walked away, as if she was dejected. She didn't have this extravagantly sad expression, she just held this nonchalant, not-giving-a-damn but somehow pouting look. She looked as if she always pouted with her jaw.


That evening, my ammunition was used to write the following words.

December 15,

I saw him again today. I was with the boys, and of course, I was awkwardly trying to fit in by laughing and repeating their words when I was chuckling. I sputtered with the words, of course. But I saw him.

They were just messing around, then he comes from his classroom and strides in with them without a care. They took him in immediately, of course. Bastards - they left me. But yeah. They started whispering and glancing back and crap. I know, somehow, deep inside of me, I'm wishing they were talking about me. Actually, replace they with he and I would be glad like a pudgy potato.

Please do not let me be delusional, please please please.



I couldn't judge if she was delusional or not, but my fondness for her was starting up again.



One time though, I knew from then on that she had a chance, for she wrote the words, His eyes lit up...



And I don't know anymore. I was so tired and drained, and I think she thought me useless as she struck me against the edge of the table and tossed me against the floor in frustration.



I didn't even provide enough ammunition to witness what her words were supposed to be.





_______________________________________________________________________


Ammunition = cartridge = ink

Yaaayyy :D Craaap. Took my like thirty + minutes to write this and I have to stuuuudy. I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DO THE SINGLE CONVERSION FOR DIMENSIONS FOR NAT. SCI. Gaaahhhh. it has numbers, and I didn't even understand it when she was teaching us. And we have homeworks on getting precision and accuracy.

I shouldn'tve even logged in on Quibblo but :OOO

Yerrrr. Miss you guys, but I've gotta go. :))

P.S. This was like a mini-love story? I dunnooo. Hahaha. I just took my habit of bringing my pen everywhere with me and what has happened this past few weeks and what I wish would happen like whuuut. Yeaaahhh.

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