Community of Magic Pens
Page 25
What are you writing?
You run your hands through your hair, chew on your lip. You can feel her watching you, her eyes glowering under heavily shaded lids.
But how do you write a soul?
You turn to a fresh page.
It is the light behind her eyes.
No. That’s not right. To be honest, you don’t even know if you believe in souls. You don’t feel like you have a spark or a fire in you, at least not most of the time. If that’s what a soul is, you only have one when you’re with your loved ones.
You start to try again, but she senses your frustration and stops you. “It’s not worth it,” she says. “You’re going to beat yourself up over this, and I’m fine without it.”
You know she’s not, but you don’t want to get her hopes up.
Reluctantly, you set the pen down.
END
Page 5
Page after page of your beautiful notebook ends up crumpled on the floor. You struggle with describing a soul, because you don’t really believe in one. It just seems too . . . fanciful. Magic.
Looking at the enchanted pen in your hand, you smirk.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
You start to tell her it’s nothing, but then she touches your hand. A comforting, friendly gesture, it settles your mind for some reason. Puts you at ease. You haven’t felt this good around someone since you left home, found your family.
“I was just thinking, I don’t believe in souls. And yet here I have a magic pen that only works for certain people. The man who gave it to me, he’s my brother now, he said only people with a certain kind of soul can write with this pen. Somehow I don’t believe him.”
“Souls . . ” She thoughtfully chews her bottom lip, somehow drawing no blood despite her razor teeth. “I think souls might be just our brains thinking about our brains. Consciousness. Brain waves, you know?”
She reaches for the pen but hesitates, looking to you for permission.
Your brother told you never to let anyone outside of the family touch it. That it’s sacred, not for just anybody to use.
When you were writing out your options in your notebook, you saw one of the paths lead to this moment. And you didn’t even hesitate; you only gave yourself one option.
Trust her (turn to page 6)
Page 6
She effortlessly writes a machine into existence. A small thing, with a screen and two electrodes. You hold your breath while she places one on her own temple, one on yours.
Two pixelated waves appear on the screen, perfectly in sync with each other.
“Souls,” she begins, and somehow you mouth the words along with her because you know exactly what she’s going to say. “Souls are just connections. Most people are born with at least one, and they come and go over time. I didn’t have any because I’m made of paper and ink, but . . . but I think our brains fit with each other’s.”
You nod slowly. You didn’t feel it at first, the connection. Not like with the rest of your family, where you just . . . clicked. But her ink was still wet. She didn’t know who she was yet.
Now she’s figuring it out, her brain is settling into a pattern, and it fits very well with yours.
For the first time in months, since you saw your family, you feel your heart beating in harmony, your breaths complementing hers. You feel that spark of life, the burning, the light.
Yes, you should have known better then to create life. But you’re glad you did it anyway.
END
Jennifer Lee Rossman (she/her) is what you would get if Dr. Temperance Brennan from Bones was a Disney princess. She lives in a group home for disabled people in Binghamton, New York, and greatly enjoys beating her favorite staff member at Scrabble. She is the coeditor of Space Opera Libretti, and she tweets about gay stuff and dinosaurs @JenLRossman
Official Membership Offer
Writing is magic.
Voting is magic.
Community is magic.
Click your pen.
Do what you can. Your own way.
We’re all here together.
You are—a good pen.
Your way will be right.
You are magic.
In acceptance of your membership, sign your name. Sign in the air, tap the screen, state your signature, or think your name.
Content Notes
These content notes may reveal information about the plot of a story. They are provided here in case there are any elements you would like to avoid. They are for general reference and do not specify every element that might cause concern.
Throughout the collection, there are elements of sadness. Several stories acknowledge or demonstrate corporate, political, or cultural oppression including racism or colonization. Stories may reference historical events or war. They may reference general life trials, birth, or death. Stories may include family or relationship strife, including mentions of infidelity. Some stories hold moments of disrespect or deception. Magic may or may be perceived to influence events, sometimes without the clear consent of everyone affected. Stories may include cursing. Alcohol may be mentioned or used. There are several references to animal use including animals as food. If this general level of content would be troubling, we recommend you pre-screen or avoid reading the collection.
Specific additional notes:
Penultimate - Issues of existence
The Confessionist - Off-page mental anguish
Mightier - Mild superhero violence
Qalam - Mention of conquerors, fire, and destruction of religious texts, worry of stalking
Inheritance - Death of grandmother, mention of depression, mention of difficult adoption
The Taste of Words - Mild sexual flirtation, mention of blood and war
The Cemetery Merchant - Mention of death of a spouse
Love in the Library - Mention of homophobia
Do Not Write to Wrong - Non-graphic mentions of war and gun violence against children, non-physically-painful attacks and bullying on children in school
Invisible Ink - Invasive technology
A Scrawl of Squid Ink - References to death and loss
Today, I am a Fountain Pen - Mention of harm to a religious building and objects
MaterialSkin - Loss, body and pain references, disembodiment, depression, smoking, gun mention, threat of death
The Last of Your Kind - References to extinction
Memory Malfunction - Invasive behavior toward disabled character
Mystical Woo - Mention of 9-11
Charcoals from an Unidentified Chicago Artist - References to fire and death
Pointy Chances - Mild head bump and related joke
Illumination - Fire, discussion of sin
One Story, Two People - Off-page attempted assault, non-violent death
Writ Large - Disrespect, loss of communication, brief mention of invasive technology in interrogation
Rhapsody in D Minor - Mobility loss
Written with Love - Temporary, non-violent mental coercion
The Healer - Illness, mention of political violence
Magical Markers - Hospital setting, cancer and death including children
Rekindled - Mention of death and disease
Ink - Mention of tattoo pain
The Drawing of a Sword - Weapons, war, and non-graphic mass violence
Nothing to Write Home About - Recent natural death of grandparent, lighthearted age and death humor