Pete had always had this knack for being very creative. He was a very special boy. He would always scribble things on the walls that made sense only to him and his imagination. He liked walking around the house, searching for new things to find within every nook and cranny. Pete did this because he regarded himself as a king. 
          "I am Sir Pete! King of the Plushies and Ravens!" he would shout whenever the adults and other kids asked for his name. He had a very good sense of justice and perseverance, but the only thing that held him back was his pride. You see, Pete loved to be the center of attention. He liked to wear his gold-leaf encrusted, cardboard crown everywhere. At home, at school, at the park, even when going to sleep he had it on his head! His friends would be his loyal knights while they wandered around playing with sticks and stones. They loved playing pretend, Pete very much so. But one day, Pete would soon find himself in a predicament.
          It had been reported that the entire country would have a lockdown period because of "the scary disease", or that's what he liked to call it. This made Pete upset. He wouldn't be able to "go on adventures with his knights anymore". He was already getting bored by the minute, until one evening when his father came into his room.
          "Son-- err.. Sir Pete! I have come with a gift for you, my king!" exclaimed Pete's father Nick as he entered carrying a small, rectangular box. "Hmm.. What is it, Sir Dad? A sword? Another book?" Pete looked at the box as he put away his toy dragons. "Open it and I'm sure you'll find it very useful, my king." Nick gave out a chuckle and handed it to Pete, after which he ruffled the boy's ginger hair and awaited his response. "Okay!" Pete excitedly said as his mother, Nessa walked inside the room with a gleeful smile on her face. Without any time to waste, Pete unwrapped the present and opened it to reveal...
           "A pen..?" Pete said with a slight tinge of doubt. "Not just any pen, sweetie.. It's a magic pen!" Nessa told Pete while leaning on the doorframe. "It's a pen that can write anything you want. You just have to... use your imagination..." And with that thought still lingering, the king's day was brought to a close.
           The following day, the king woke up extra early than usual. He had finished eating breakfast and taking a bath just before 9am and examined his new pen. The pen was black and shiny gold and meant resembled a fountain pen. It had engraving on it which read: "From Sir Pete, King of kings". This made Pete very giddy, and thought of countless different things to write as he took out a journal from his schoolbag. Almost the entire day, Pete had been inside his room scribblling away, without a care of what was happening outside his royal walls. He wrote and drew dragons and princesses, far-off lands and fearsome beasts. He made several tales of his heroism and righteousness, and created a place where he would "rest over and look at his work". He called this world "The Kingdom of Ink". Proud, he showed what he had written to his parents, and they were very pleased. Pete had absolute fun creating what his heart desired. He would continue to draw and write throughout the evening, sometimes even prompting Nessa to tell him off. Still, he was as happy as ever. 
          Soon, days, even weeks passed. Inside Pete's room lay several filled notebooks strewn about. Illustrations of wicked and magnificent creatures filled the walls, and stacks of paper filled up the corners of the space. Pete continues to write another one of his epic stories until... "The ink ran out.." Pete's heart sank as he mouthed those words. Swiftly, he bolted out of the room, almost tripping on crayons and paper scattered about the hardwood floor. "Mom! Dad! The ink in my pen is gone!" Pete cried towards his parents, who didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, kiddo.. I'm sure you can use a different pen... right?" Nick told Pete as the storm from outside begins to pick up. "B-But it's different! It's my pen! I can't do anything anymore!" Pete's eyes became red as he said this followed by a strong gust of wind gushing outside. Running back to his room, his parents look on with a slight frown on their faces.
          As the doors close shut, Pete begins to look at his creations. Tears begin to pour as he expeditely retreats into his pillow fort. The fort was sacred to him. He always went there whenever things were going bad. This was definitely one of them. Pete cried and sniffed for a long amount of time, until he found himself laying amongst the pillows, fast asleep.
          The sound of horns and instruments clashing and jingling woke the little king up from his slumber. It was bright outside, and he could hear whispers and distant laughing. Curious, Pete crawled outside to see a town. He was smackdab within the community square, where he saw tall, wattle-and-daub houses spanning for hundreds of feet on end. He saw armored men carrying swords and a variety of weaponry. He looked up and witnessed a tower so impressively high. Robed figures were casting magic to entertain the children within the village as a merry band played their tunes.
          Mesmerized, Pete's legs marched forward on their own, leading him in different parts of the huge city. Stone walls with heavy bastions surrounded the place. There were hundreds of alleyways and roads to go to, and yet, somehow Pete knew where he was going. A huge, orange-leeafed tree stood in one corner of the metropolis, with its leaves swaying every so often. Carts drawn by horses travelled about as he reached the market district. He saw a variety of wares, but paid no mind to it. He continued walking for what seemed like ages until he witnessed a grand castle atop a hill. With eager ambition, Pete walked towards it, carrying his wooden sword and cardboard crown on his head. Not too long later, he stopped and gazed upon the gates of the castle. The castle itself was gorgeous. Smooth stone bricks made up the entire building, and gold surrounded the towers and inner workings of the structure. A large moat circled it and a row of armored guards kept watch over the area. Breathing deeply, Pete moved forth, walking past the guards who bowed as they crossed paths. 
          With a creak and a whistle, the grand door opened and he saw paintings galore. Mythical creatures crudely drawn with crayon and ink. Pete went up a flight of stairs, where waited a room with a throne situated on a balcony. Standing next to the throne were two people, his mom and dad. Pete climbed onto the throne and looked over at his creations as his parents cuddled with him. They gave Pete a small box, neatly wrapped with a bow. Pete shook his head. "No thanks.. I know now that it wasn't the pen that made this! It was my imagination after all!" Pete told his parents as he sat on his throne. Pete continued to imagine and think of new ideas as he lay asleep, his parents carrying the tuckered out boy into his bed. And as they placed a blanket onto him and flicked off the lights, the gentle pattering of the raindrops soothed the atmosphere. Pete dreamt of wondrous things, things that could've only been created by the King and His Pen.