Hello friends, Welcome to infosarena.com . In this article we wrote the 2 quality Autobiography Of A Pen for students of all classes in English language. The length of this autobiography is around 300 Words and 500 Words. We hope you enjoy this article as much as we enjoy offering this to you. If you have any questions or comments, please don’t hesitate to comment below.
Here are some key points on How to Write an Autobiography Of A Pen ?
Table of Contents
Young youngsters may be confused while writing an Autobiography for the 1st time. They may also forget to shape it properly to make it meaningful or write inappropriate records making the composition glide from the given subject matter. To assist youngsters in write an excellent Autobiography Of A Pen, they should be aware of those key factors that can come in accessible:
- Name of the pen.
- Manufacturing of pen.
- Journey of pen.
- Life and rememberable moment of pen.
- Conclusion.
Autobiography Of A Pen in 500 Words
I was born in a small factory in the heart of a bustling city. I was one of thousands of pens being produced each day, and I knew that my life was going to be nothing special. But even though I was just an ordinary pen, I felt excited to be created and to have a purpose.
I was packaged with dozens of other pens and sent off to a stationery store. It was a bright and sunny day when I was first picked up by a customer. She was a young girl, about 8 or 9 years old, and she held me with such excitement in her hands that I felt proud to be chosen by her.
The girl took me to school with her, and I was so happy to be a part of her education. She would use me to take notes, write essays, and even doodle during class. I felt useful and fulfilled knowing that I was helping her learn and grow.
But as time went on, the girl started using me less and less. She began to favor other pens, and I was left at the bottom of her pencil case, forgotten and unused. It was a sad feeling, but I knew that my life wasn’t over yet.
One day, a new owner picked me up and brought me to a different school. This was a high school, and the student who bought me was much older than the girl who had previously owned me. But I was still happy to be used for the same purposes, and the student took great care of me.
Conclusion :
For years, I helped this student write papers, take notes, and even sign important documents. I felt proud to be such an integral part of their life, and I knew that my purpose was being fulfilled.
Eventually, the student graduated and moved on to college. I was left behind, once again forgotten and unused. But just as before, I knew that my life wasn’t over yet.
Now, I sit on a desk in an office. I am used by a businessman to sign contracts, write letters, and also in makeing important notes. I am happy to be useful, and I am proud of the many years that I have served my purpose.
Short Autobiography Of A Pen in 300 Words
My name is David, and I am a pen. I know that sounds strange, but hear me out. You see, I’m not just any pen. I’m a pen with a story.
I was born in a factory in China, and then I was shipped to the United States as part of a bulk order of pens. But when I arrived, something strange happened. I was separated from the other pens and put into a different box. I didn’t know why at the time, but I soon found out.
You see, I was being sent to a maximum-security prison. I was going to be used by inmates to write letters and make phone calls. It wasn’t exactly the life I had envisioned for myself, but I knew that I had a purpose.
For years, I sat in a supply room, waiting to be used. But then one day, an inmate picked me up. He was a young man, about my age, and he seemed nice enough. He used me to write letters to his family, and I could tell that he was homesick.
As time went on, the inmate started using me more and more. He would write letters to his wife as well as to his friends, and even to the prison staff. I felt useful and fulfilled knowing that I was helping him stay connected to the outside world.
But then, one day, the inmate was released from prison. I was left behind, forgotten and unused. Then I sat in that supply room for years, waiting for someone to pick me up again
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