It Really is a Beautiful Pen

Apologizing to the boy behind the counter, she rummaged through her purse. “Are you sure you don’t have one?”

The boy, his transparent impatience went from displaying on his face to the tone of his voice said, “No, I’m sorry there was one here, but I guess someone walked off with…”

“Ahh, here it is.” She pulled the pen from her purse and started to sign the check. Ripping the check from her checkbook and handing to him, she asked “Wouldn’t you like to see some I.D.?”

Making eye contact with the man standing in the line behind her, the cashier replied “No ma’am, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

He finished ringing out the sale as she dropped the checkbook back into her purse and swept up her two bags.

Looking to the man waiting behind her, she said “I’m really sorry about that. You’d think they would have more then one pen here. I’m sure it’s not the first time someone has walked off with one.”

Earning her only a casual smile in response. “Here’s your receipt ma’am.” the cashier said with what was apparently a normal lack of enthusiasm.

“Thanks” she said as she whisked it out of his hand and exited the store.

Stepping outside she looked up and marveled at what a beautiful day it was. Glancing down at her watch, she noticed it was only 12:20 and she thought to herself ‘Well, there you go Gracie, birthday gifts are bought and you still have time for a café mocha and a wrap.’

With a bounce in her step, she strode down to corner to her favorite little sandwich shop that had small round metal tables lined up on the sidewalk for the patrons who preferred to enjoy their meals outside. She went inside and placed her order and then seated herself at a table furthest from the corner, just a little ways up the block.

She placed her bags under the table and put the purse in front her. The waiter, a very cute young man she had often thought of in a most impure nature brought her order out to her.

“Hi Grace, how’s it going today?”

She looked at him and smiling her biggest and friendliest smile said “Look around. Who can have anything but a good day with weather like this?”

“Yeah, I know” he replied, “Makes you not want to go back to the office, doesn’t it?”

She gave him a flirtatious grin and replied, “Jeffrey, you make me not want to go back to the office.” and giggled.

He put his hand on her should and looked into her eyes and laughed “You crack me up, girl. You know if my boyfriend heard you talk to me like that he’d flip his wig.”

She threw her hand up in a dismissing manner “Oh, please. Tell dear Gary boy, he’s got nothing to worry about.”

To which Jeffrey replied “Believe me, I do” and winked.

Laughing heartily, Grace blurted out, “Besides, WE don’t give a toaster for every conversion like you guys do.”

With that he rolled his eyes and looked at the bags under the table. “We’ve been shopping?”

She looked down, having forgotten during the conversation that she had been “Oh! yes. It’s Mark’s birthday at the office and I was volunteered to pick out some gifts for him from the staff.” She reached down to grab one of the bags.

“Well, it looks like you went all out for him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well, you know mine was last month and he bought me a beautiful ivory inlay pen. She turned her attentions from retrieving the bag under the table to her purse and started looking through it.

“Oh, God-dammit, not again!”

“What’s up?” Jeff asked.

“I can’t find my pen again. It’s really beautiful. I think I must have left with Mr. Sunshine at Macy’s.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Can I possibly get you to wrap this up? I need to go get the pen back before someone walks off with and Mark has my head on a pike.”

“Sure thing,” he said, as he picked up her tray and retreated back inside.

She swooped up her bags and put her purse on her arm and stood up to push the chair back under the table.

Jeffrey re-emerged with her lunch in his hand.

She reached in her purse to give him a tip and he said “Just go, doll. You take care of me all the time. Have a good day and tell the stud I said Happy Birthday.”

She laughed as she took the bag and cup from him, “You know he’s a homophobe.”

Jeff smiled and nodded “Yeah, that’s why I said it.” He started to wipe the table clean, more out of habit than necessity, as Grace walked back down the street.


She reached the entrance for the store and thought to herself as she entered ‘Ahh yes, more attitude to go with my lunch, not good for digestion’ and made her way inside.

The cashier recognized her as she came in and said “You left your pen here, ma’am.” and held it out for her.

Surprised at his new found attentiveness she took it and said “Thanks, I got to get back to the office.” She turned around and exited the store and was thankful that it was with a much different frame of mind than her previous exit.

When she arrived at her car in the parking lot, she opened her purse and removed the keys and receipt. Unlocking the door, she casually tossed her bags and purse in the seat next to her, placed her coffee in the cup-holder. As she leaned on the armrest between the seats to write on the receipt what information she needed to reclaim her expenses from everyone at the office, a hand swept up from the rear seat and grabbed her throat. That quickly, it grabbed with such a tight hold of her throat that she could not make a sound, not even a whimper. In a panic she started stabbing blindly through the air with the pen. Then as quickly as the one hand found her throat, the other had found the flailing arm with the pen.

She was unsure what the loud cracking sound was that broke the silence until bolts of pain shot through her entire right arm. The hand from her throat found its way to her mouth and pinned her head to her seat from behind.

She was grateful for the breath finally finding its way into her body by way of her nostrils, which were widening and contracting as she tried to regain her senses. All the while she was thinking “How can I plead for my life with his hand covering my…”

Her thought cut short by the pain she was now feeling over her left breast. Still reeling, she felt another immediately to the right of it. Followed by yet another, but at this point it was hard to determine where the precise point of pain was. She struggled to look down, but still could not break free of the grasp that held her clasped against the seat. Then another shot of pain, this one much more centered in her chest and the hand finally released its unyielding grip. She tried to move, but she could not manage anything without sharp jolts of pain shooting across her chest. The more she tried to breath; she had the sensation of drowning. She slumped against the car door and caught sight of herself in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes widened at the recognition of the object sticking out of her chest.

Her final thought was “It really is a beautiful pen.”

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I believe some clarification may be needed due to the many inquiries, so here it goes:

The star of this story is the pen.  The characters and all other aspects are completely incidental.  I kind of went with the whole Rod Serling thing.  Sorry if it has led to any confusion.

Word count 1,296  I don't know how to post via the link thingie..It was posted directly to the forum and I put here just to have a copy in my portfolio.  Thanks to whomever for the tips.  :)