#4 Arthor Penn.
Arthor was a scrawny boy of ten, with dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes, he looked no different from any other ten year old, but Arthor was mature for a boy of ten. He had had to grow up fast after his father had passed away. He had loved his father more than he would ever be able to show.
Arthor remembered the nights when his dad would come and tell him all the wonderful stories he had been writing for his latest book. The tales of beasts and brave men, of the battles they fought over magical objects and beautiful princesses, these stories had always filled his mind and heart with such wonder.
Now that his dad was gone nothing seemed quite as bright or brilliant as it once had.
Arthor loved to spend time just sitting in his dads study now, sitting crossed legged in the huge leather chair his dad had spent so many hours in. Arthor would let the chair surround him and protect him, as he looked at the rows of old books that lined the walls. It was the one place Arthor felt close to his father. All the stories flooded back to him here.
It was on one of these days on a cold and rainy November when young Arthor Penn found his fathers favorite writing pen. It was a beautiful fountain pen, it looked black from far away but up close had the look of dark purple marble to it. The nib of the pen was a beautiful burnt copper tone that had warmth to it like an open fire on a dark night. From the nib a faint gold pattern spiraled around the pen to its top like a serpent coiling around a branch. As Arthor studied the pen it seemed to glow and draw him in, he placed the lid back over the nib, as it clicked shut the room filled with light.
His eyes opened slowly and he was no longer in his fathers study, nor was he alone. Arthor was now in a cave face to face with a purple dragon.
About the Author (Author Profile)
Shaun was born, a baby, like most. He grew up in a small village in the U.K and went on to read The Hobbit, play tabletop fantasy games and see the greatest movie of all time, Die Hard. Through these wondrous events he grew into the man he needed to be. The one who spends his Saturday nights at home drinking Pepsi, (other fizzy pop brands are available) whilst writing comics he one-day hopes someone will actually draw into a nice pretty comic book. Until then he will just keep on writing. Shaun can be found on the Internet at his blog. Or if you’d rather have his words 140 characters at a time over on Twitter under the very imaginative and clever handle of @ShaunRichensSubscribe
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