Write a story on pen and pencil.
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Answer:
A little girl sneaked up on her father as he was making an entry in a private notebook. Startled, he dropped the pen he was writing with. The ink seeped into the pages, tinting them a rich blue.
"Daddy, your pen is bleeding!" she exclaimed, distressed.
The man sighed, snatching up a cotton cloth to blot the stain. "That is ink, my dear, not blood."
"What is ink?" She emphasized on the unfamiliar word.
"It is something like water, only coloured. We fill our pens with it and write," he replied, putting away his book.
The daughter climbed onto his lap, picking up the shiny new pen and turning it over in amazement. "Can I write with it too? My pencil writes only in one colour."
"Take this one. Think of it as a gift from my side. Be careful with it. You will have to give it back if you spill any ink."
The girl clutched her prize and ran to her room with glee.
She returned a few days later with tears in her eyes. "Daddy, the pen died. It doesn't write any more."
"It is not dead, little one. It needs more ink." The girl watched her father fetch an ink pot and refill the pen. He handed it over to her and she thanked him before she left. It became her favourite pen and she kept it on her person at all times.
Several years later, she grew up to have a little daughter of her own. One day, she heard a crash in her bedroom and hurried over to inspect it. Broken glass was strewn on the floor, which had previously belonged to a picture frame on her mantelpiece. The gift from her father had shared a similar fate - its nib was bent and ink was gushing out of it. Her daughter stood to one side, a guilty look on her face. "Your pen is bleeding. I think it's dead. I'm sorry, momma," she said, softly.
Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she closed the distance between them and hugged her child. A mix of emotions swirled within her. She was saddened by the loss of her precious pen, but the way her daughter had framed the apology gave her something to smile about.
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