The Red Pen

By Christina Neely

Samantha is a unique artist only using red ink in her drawings. She comes across a red feather pen enchanted never to run out of ink but she soon discovers that the drawings created from the pen come to life. With her drawings causing havoc she must turn to Samuel, a mysterious newcomer, to stop them. Samantha and Samuel must keep the drawings, the red pen and herself from falling into the wrong hands. But can Samuel really be trusted?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christina Neely
• Release date: Jun 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301128785

Christina Neely

Christina first discovered her love for writing and reading in middle school. She wrote several short stories for the enjoyment of her friends and family. After receiving a bachelor’s degree from Robert Morris University, she began a career in writing. Christina currenly resides near Youngstown with her sister, Stephanie, and her dogs and cats.Author of:The Golden Staff Saga: The Pillar of Light

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The Red Pen

Published by Christina Neely at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Christina Neely

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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I am an unconventional artist. Where most people enjoyed creating art on canvas with paints or chalk I only used one item and one color…a red pen.

Almost out

I vigorously shook the pen to get the remaining ink to drip down to the ball of the pen. I finished up the last few strokes as I completely ran out of ink.

Nice

I took a few steps back to look at the ocean view how my red waves rolled up to meet the red sand on the beach. Even the sky came alive in different shades of red.

Guess it’s time to head home. I’ll have to get another red pen on my way there

I gathered my sketchpad and the remains of my spent red pen. The main strip was unusually quiet for a Sunday afternoon. Only a few last minute shoppers occupied the normally busy street. I headed directly for the hardware store, the only place in town to buy pens. I could get a 3-pack for a couple of bucks. As I crossed the empty street something bright red caught my eye. It was a red feather resting comfortably on a black stand.

I stared, mesmerized by feather for a few minutes before deciding to enter the old antique shop. It was my first time ever being in this store even through I lived in town my entire life. It was dimly lit with overhead florescent lights. Old merchandise was piled up everywhere; it looked more like flea market than a store.

I lifted the red feather from its resting place and ran my fingers along the silk barbs.

Do you like it?

I jumped nearly dropping the feather.

Oh. Yes

I placed it back on the stand in