The Magical Inkpen

[miss_merry_chan]

Title:The Magical Inkpen
Genre: Fairytale
Rating: G
Summary: The magic from a book finally finds home in an inkpen while being a muse for an author.


Once upon a time, there was a magical book. It had been long forgotten and move to and from many bookcases. It had been years since it had been opened and read. When such a thing happens the book dies. It molds, gets water damaged,and turns musty.

But the magic doesn't die.

As the book was thrown into the trash, the magic escaped into the closest thing it could find: the cat.

The cat was walking into the kitchen to its' food bowl, when something tickled him from the top of its' head to the tip of its' tail. The cat's whiskers twitched. The cat looked at the empty food bowl. But, instead of meowing the cat said,” I'm hungry! Hello? Anyone here? I said I'm hungry!”

The wife looked into the kitchen and the cat rubbed against her legs, while saying, “Feed me, human.”

The wife screamed and ran out of the room. The cat stared at the empty food bowl again, and said, “All I waned was some food.” So,t he cat curled up under the kitchen table and began to doze off into a wonderful dream about cat food from the tin can.

The magic did not like the new home it had found. After seeing the cat's dream about wet cat food, the magic left the cat and floating into the living room into a new, sturdier home: the dog.

All the dog was doing was sitting on the rug, shedding, and panting with a dog-like smile on its' face. The dog's ears perked up; the wife walked into the living room with a magazine and had just sat down when the dog brought her a toy and said, “Want to play?”

This time, instead of screaming, the wife got up slowly, and as soon as she was near the stairs, she ran up them to the bedroom and locked the door.

The magic did not like this home either. Apparently, humans did not want to communicate with their pets.

After leaving its' third home, the magic tried out several other habitats. The lamp( flickering lights did not suffice), the television( changing channels wasn't fun either), the stairs (that hurt quite a bit), and the refrigerator (that was very chilly) were not good homes either.

The magic was about to go into a pair of running shoes when it spotted something shiny in the next room. The magic went in for a closer look. What the magic saw before it was an ink pen. It was shiny, silver-toned, and had a name engraved on it. The magic went inside of it. It was quiet, not too cold, and there was a nice bit of ink to swish around in.

It wasn't too long before the pen was taken up by a gentleman and was put to paper. Aha! The magic now knew how it could be used. It could write! The author found that the more he wrote, the bettter the story became. The magical ink pen was put to use everyday for a year and a day. Thens omething that the magic could not control happened: the pen was broken.

It was tossed into the air, drawn with, and tapped on the wooden desk with. The magic knew this was not the pen's owner. And before the magic could escape for a temporary residence, the pen dropped from the air and fell to the floor, breaking in half.

The magic look for the destroyer of its' happy home. The magic heard a gas and then footsteps running away. The magic decided to leave the pen and took a form of a lady and sat in the chair. If he magic couldn't find out who destroyed it's home, then the owner could. The magic, now lady, waited patiently for the owner to come home. At four o'clock the gentleman opened the door and smiled.

“My muse!” he said. He looked for the magical ink pen and when he saw what and happened, he cried.

“Muse,” he said,” who broke you home?”

The lady shrugged and explained what had happened. Before the man could go fetch his son, the muse stopped him and said, “I can live anywhere you wish. It doesn't have to be a pen. The ideas were mostly yours, I just helped out a little.”

The gentleman smiled and cleaned up the mess.

To this day, if yo look hard enough in the study of the Wilson family's study, you will see a tiny, tiny lady sitting on a shelf next to a series of books by Mr. Wilson himself.