Sample Writing

Abi Retallick
Writing Sample
Sophmore English
24 August 2007
My object is a tool. A tool that lets different cultures connect. A device that allows men and women's thoughts to be etched onto the minds of a reader. My object is a pen. My pen.
Originally, my translator of thoughts came from Valley Bank, where Ms. Slater had acquired it. I speculate that she had the said object for a couple of weeks before it came into my possesion.
Then on fated day, my previously owned pen ran out of ink in the middle of my first period class, which happened to be taught by Ms. Slater. Ms. Slater was thankfully generous person and allowed me to borrow my soon to be magical wand of words. Once the period ended, I absentmindly forgot to return my newly aquired creator of joy. Thus forming a bond that can only be broken by a shortage of ink.
I have completed many homework assignments, essays, and tests with my fairy staff of imagination and not once has my loyal pen waned in the flow of ink from its ballpoint tip.
The importance of this inanimate object to me is so great and profound that I am at a loss for words. And even trying to fathom would belittle the very essence of the bond that has been formed between hand and writing utensil. If lost, I would be forced to search the bowels of department stores for a new chisel of past occurences, and reforge a bond, an ancient bond, that has been passed down through generations of authors, students, and an assortment of shopping-list writers.
However, all great things must come to an end, and so must my pen. When the ink is gone and the paint is chipped, I'll look back and fondly remember my "uni-trident" of great works of art and not grieve the loss of a magical tool, but joyfully remember the many times I was blessed to write with my pen.