The mysterious book

Once upon a time, there was a girl, a lonely, introverted little girl, who read tales curled up in her bed to escape her harsh reality at school. She used to tell to herself every night that she somehow was special, and that she should live in the extraordinary places from her books, where magic exists, where everything is possible and where no one, ever, feels sad.

One night, she dreamt about a fairy with read, pointy hair and bright eyes who was looking at her with affection from the window. She was leaving a package on the small desk.

The next morning, when she woke up the very first thing she did was to approach to the table and look. And she got vaguely surprised when she found a gift wrapped in celophane paper

It was a book. What she liked most in the world. Thick, with hard covers and illustrated. It smelled wonderfully to recently printed. The cover also had a beautiful illustration that reminded somehow to a mixture of the Snow Queen and the Princess and the Wild Swans.

That night, after wishing his mom and dad good night, and brushing very well her teeth, she switched on her night light and immersed in her new friend.

The book was excellent, the story trapped her at once, and the illustrations were delightful. The book was about a special girl who read a magic book and did a travel around the whole world. Sometimes, she was accompanied by the Three Wise Men in the Far East. Sometimes, by Santa Claus in Pole North. She went with Peter Pan to London, and accompanied to a very old and strange knight in Castilla la Mancha. Also chatted with the Little Mermaid in Denmark and helped her making an important decision.

Everyone seemed to know her and know her name. The little girl as she read the book she understood that the book was about herself, and they, her true friends, were waiting for her in the magic world where all they belonged. The way to arrive there, she was sure, could be found at the end of the book.

She spent the whole night reading, and she lived countless adventures without moving from her little bed. At dawn, she turned the penultimate page.

But she didn’t dare to read the end of the tale. She didn’t want to say goodbye to her mom and dad, as much kids mistreated her at school. Anyhow, she knew that she would never feel again sad or lonely. Because she knew that someone was taking care of her in that enchanted place where she always could go back among the pages of a book.

But not yet.

Responder

Introduce tus datos o haz clic en un icono para iniciar sesión:

Logo de WordPress.com

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de WordPress.com. Salir /  Cambiar )

Google photo

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Google. Salir /  Cambiar )

Imagen de Twitter

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Twitter. Salir /  Cambiar )

Foto de Facebook

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Facebook. Salir /  Cambiar )

Conectando a %s

WordPress.com.

Subir ↑

A %d blogueros les gusta esto: