"You're using it wrong," the other demons said.
That the pens were magic was well known. That was what made them so useful. Mix ink with a drop of someone's blood, dip the pen in, and you have that person's heart's desire, splashed across the page. They made snaring even the most recalcitrant of souls a snap. The pens were made for writing contracts.
And there he was, telling stories with one. Elegant, vibrant, thrilling, beautiful stories, at that.
Demons hate beauty. It reminds them of all they've lost.
"Whose blood is guiding it?" They demanded.
"Mine," said the author.
YOU ARE READING
Everyday DrabblesShort Story
A drabble is a very short story one hundred words long. No more, no less. They are designed for maximum impact in the least amount of space. For 2019, I'll be posting a drabble every day.