Niclaus Stifel

Hmm.

I've stolen a pen, apparently.

Quite some time ago.

Found it in my desk.

It's covered in dust.

Still works though, quite nicely.

It's a weighty pen--blue metal, with the fake marble pattern.

A name engraved in gold, "Niclaus Stifel," probably both to make him feel important (In an 'oooh! I have my name on a pen!' kind of way,) and to deter people from stealing it.

 

Rich b*****d. I don't know who he was to me, when I came across him, or why I have his pen. Heck, maybe I didn't steal it, maybe I borrowed it with every intention of giving it back but forgot, or maybe he gave it to me.

 

In any case, I have his pen.

I have his fancy pen.

His fancy pen, with his name engraved in it.

 

All I need now is a fancy suit and tie, to go along with the pen, and I'll have stolen his identity.

And I did it all without stealing a wallet, phishing a credit card number, or securing any documents whatsoever.

The pen carries with it an incredible power that I'm far too corrupt to handle maturely.

The pen is my ticket to freedom.

The pen is adequete evidence that I am Niclaus Stifel.

 

 

I'm off to sign some papers.

Author's Note

Sometimes, I wonder where this pen came from.
And then I realize, it obviously came from Niclaus Stifel.

Reviews

[Hawksmoor]

See? I'm seeing something about you, now. You've got one hellova way with the short story. The short-short story; yet, you still somehow pack the essence of a many-paged thing into a paragraph or two.

I once heard someone say "A man's pen is a bit of his soul that simply can't abide residing inside his body."

I guess that's true.

After all, so many people have faves when it comes to writing utensils. You sign checks with them. Check important documents with them. Write wedding vows with them.

We sign our lives away with pens. They're the bit of us that leaks onto the world in physical form.

Our handwriting tells of what the whole soul inside is like. Just a bit of us, on the outside for all to see.

That make sense? I wonder. LOL.

Anyway, before I ramble my way into the record books, I'll just say that I enjoyed this.

LOL.

Hawksmoor...From The Bleed.

[bunny nabber]

wow yeah, weird, i see what you're saying. what with the woo hoo, dude and the conscience.

I swear im not insane! well, no more than ive already admitted.

wow, freaky.

ironic too that it happen on THIS piece.

[lark]

(and to deter people from stealing it.

...obviously, didn't stop someone, eh? XD )

It'd be kinda sneaky if you could just flash the pen and be like, Dude, why would I have this pen if I wasn't, in fact, Niclaus Sifel? And then they'd give you some money. Woo hoo.

My conscience is too honest for that, though. Dunno bout you.