Where's My Pen? [#Wattys2016]

The police officer stood a feet away from me. Even though he was a 6ft giant with 200 pounds worth of sheer muscle, I could see the fear lingering in his eyes as clearly as the day.

"What. Did. You. Say?" I ground out through clenched teeth, venomously.

"Er...W-Well I-I said it's j-just a...pen...?" He stammered out, unsurely.

"Just a pen....? HOW. DARE. YOU!!!?? IT IS NOT, I REPEAT, NOT JUST A PEN!!!"

My voice started out calm and relaxed, but it slowly rose as I thrusted a finger on his chest.

I was a few seconds away from truly losing it.

Who the heck did he think he is!?

I inhaled sharply through my nose, attempting -keyword attempting- to control my barely restrained anger.

"Erm..... y-you can always get another pen. I-I hear WHSmith pens a-are really good,"

Annnnnd I lost it.

*********************

All Amelia Clark wanted was a pen.
No. Not a pen. THE pen.
The 'Parker IM Fountain Pen,' to be exact.
Smooth and sleek with gold embellishments.... it was she dreamt about.
However that was all it would remain. A dream.
For there was only one handmade pen given out, PER country.
The likely hood of her getting it?
Nada. Zilch. Z-E-R-O.

But after a sudden turn of events, what happens when she does seem to get her hands on one?
Not a fake, but the real thing?
And after she does, what happens when she loses it....?
An HOUR later.

I'll tell you what'll happen.

Chaos.

Once she has had a taste of what life was like WITH the pen, she is isn't willing to let it slip through her fingers that easily.
Some may call it madness, other's emotional attachment derived from psychological issues, but for Amelia it is determination.

Nothing will part her with that pen.

Not even death.

.
.
.
.

Okay, well maybe death.....

#Wattys2016