The Pen(Short Story)

I take out my black pen which has a silver line going through the middle and I start to write my speech for my English homework.

Anyone who looks at the pen would think that there is something wrong with it as it looks worn out. The tips of it are broken. There are cracks running all around the pen and there are even big chunks of white bits on it.

I don’t think there is anything wrong. I have had this pen since I was 5 years old. I have never had any problems other than having to replace the ink every time it runs out.

“Aaron?” Says my brother. “Are you coming….?” My brother looks down at the pen in my hand and the piece of paper on my desk. “What are you doing?”

“My homework.” I replied.

“Why are you using that pen?”

“I want to.”

“Do you know that….? Never mind.” He walks off.

The rest of my family seems to have a problem with the pen. They seem to have something against it. I don’t see what the problem is.

When I finish my homework I accidentally fall asleep. 

I woke up 2 hours later and the pen which was beside my homework was standing up on the desk by itself.

For a moment I thought I saw it smiling but it went away so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I really saw it. 

I jump up from my chair and slowly start to back away towards the door but the pen seem to somehow fly pass me and close the door and lock it.  

I ran towards the window but the pen got there first and closed it before I got anywhere near it.

I tried going back to the door. Maybe if I am quick enough I can open the door in time?

The pen flew past me and landed onto the wall above the door. It started to write words onto the wall in a swirly, messy handwriting.

“ You should have thrown me out a long time ago. Where I am from pens destroy human beings.”

The pen jumps onto me and before I could react or do anything it hits me hard in the head. I drop to the floor. 

The last thing I saw was the pen looking down at me tapping my nose really hard.