He wrote “I’m the only person who can use this pen." There was no loud clap of thunder, no bright blinding flash, nothing. Yet somehow deep within his mind, James knew that it had worked. Moving down a line, he also added that if he ever lost the pen, it would reappear in his pocket. No need to take any chances with losing the wonderful gift after all. Again, the only result was a vague awareness that it had worked. More writing made it so that the pen couldn’t be destroyed, nor would it run out of ink. After several more moments of thought, James also added that he could summon the pen as needed as well.
James then sat back, tapping the pen on his lips. The whole of reality was his plaything with this pen. There were so many possibilities that he had once dreamed and wished about. They all whirled through his mind, each flashing through for just a moment before the next came storming through.
Screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head, he willed his thoughts to become more ordered again. As they did so, one desire drifted to the forefront, one that would be an excellent place to start.
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