Meet Beth, young, hopeful, and a staunch believer in all things magical—made easier by the fact that she owns a talking pink tortoise and a hyperactive pen.
Meet her creative writing professor, Mr Sedriane, who refuses to allow his students to write anything fantastical.
But maybe today, for this assignment, Beth might write from the heart. Something she loves. Something she believes in.
No matter what the punishment. No matter what the price.
A story for everyone who still believes in something more—and everyone who refuses to give up on the truth.
Not Fantasy
Beth stared at the blank search engine on her computer screen. “How am I going to find something for this stupid assignment that I actually like?”
“Oo, oo!” A bright pink pen rattled in its stand at the back of the desk. “I know, I know!”
Beth glared at it. “I don’t want your ideas. I’m supposed to take in a sensible story.”
Technically pens couldn’t pout, but this one—Beth jokingly called it her Muse, after its propensity for coming up with wildly implausible ideas—certainly implied it.
“Well,” said the pink tortoise that sat next to the keyboard. “He said to find a story that connects with something you know, yes?”
Beth nodded.
“So what about all those magazines you read online? Surely something in one of those connects to you somehow.”
“Of course, that’s why I love them. But I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a realist story.” Beth wrinkled her nose.
“But the stories you read are real,” said the pen.
“For a given value of real,” said Beth. “Most people don’t believe your world exists. People like Mr Sedriane. Especially Mr Sedriane.” She pulled a face. “Him and his stupid prejudice against anything exciting. Gar!” She flung herself back in her chair. “I hate English!”
“There, there,” said Pembe. “We’ll think of something. When is it due?”
“I have to take a story to class tomorrow.”
Silence filled the bedroom as they thought.
Beth exhaled and flopped face-first on the keyboard. “It’s nearly ten o’ clock,” she mumbled. “I just want to go to bed.”
Pembe snuggled into her hair. “Just find something, anything. It doesn’t matter if you don’t really like it. As you said, you’re not getting marked on it, you just have to hand something in.”
Beth turned towards Pembe and stretched her lips into a half smile. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not getting marked on it. So what the hell, I’ll take in one I really like.”
Pembe jerked her head in concern. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Of course not. What’s he going to do, give me detention because I brought in the wrong story? Hardly.” Beth righted herself and rested her fingers on the keys, ignoring the nerves in her stomach that knew Mr Sedriane might do exactly that.