Dip. Drag. Dip. Drag.
Quill was weary of being used and abused. Her nib hurt and the scratching abuse was worse than anything she'd taken in her lifetime of being used. Used. She hated that. Quill longed to jump away from the dip and drag scene and to log her own comments. Feed her own ego. She was tired of being linked to her owner and yearned for freedom.
Freelancing. She'd heard the term, but was only now realizing that was exactly what she wanted to do. She began to lay escape plans and when her owner next picked her up, she leaked a blot, then another. Left a thin trail of pale ink. Nothing legible.
She choked as the hand squeezed her tighter, then shook her as if to remind her who was boss. Not much longer she thought, then she'd be on her own.
Snap. Snap. That small rite ended her future.
This is my first exploration of free write from an inanimate object's pov. I hope it's the last. :) Actually, thanks for the prompt, Fiction Friday. I was dry.