"But why, mama? Why do I have to read? I don't want to. I'd much rather go outside and play. The grass is soft and green in the Springtime sun and I can hear so many birds out today." Her big blue eyes reflected her eager anticipation of adventuring outside and finding hazardous escapades to delve into.
"My little one, you are so full of life and your energy inspires me." Her mother could only smile and remember when she, too, was so young and full of vigor. "I am pleased that you love to be outside and venture into the wilderness. But you also need to feed that part of your mind that only grows from written words, and when you seek out the words of the books, it all goes in. You may not even realize it while you are reading, but all the wisdom and heritage that you will find inside of the written words is absorbed into your mind just like the sun soaks into your skin. Books are a treasure, child. Don't you know how rich you are?"
The child turned around and gazed upon all the books and scrolls that littered her mother's library. There were shelves and shelves of old dusty books bound in leathers and skins. Some were stacked on top of each other in jostled piles and others were stored vertically in sections where some leaned and others were stuffed between books that didn't have enough space for them to squeeze in, but somehow managed to be shoved in place despite the challenge. There were books that had fancy gold writing on the spines and some that weren't marked on the outside covers at all. Some even had elaborate art on the covers that protected the mysterious contents held within. There were scrolls of various materials that always seemed to smell funny to the little girl, but they were so unique and fancy that she didn't mind the offputting odor. Some sections of the shelves were decorated by the webs of the spiders that lingered there and other places on the shelves looked like time didn't exist there at all- as if the dust didn't even have a chance to settle. Even the globes and maps and artifacts that littered the shelves were remarkable and mystical. It truly was an impressive library.
After a few moments of studying the intricate library, the child had almost forgotten all about wanting to go outside. She looked up towards the top shelves of the collection of writings and intently advanced towards the ladder that leaned up against the impressive deposit of wisdom and knowledge. She had already determined that she was going to select a book with metal accents adorning it and etchings that looked like some kind of Rune markings on it. As she slid the ladder over to where her book was she kept her eyes focused on the prize way up high. She climbed up the ladder, one rung at a time, and as she reached the top, she carefully pulled the book out from it's resting space and blew the dust off the top of it. It might not have been held for a while, but she could feel the energy and mystery in it. It almost seemed to pulsate and radiate with some cosmic force. Pleased with her selection, she made her way back down the ladder carefully holding her treasure in one arm and holding onto the wooden rails with the other. Once she got close enough to the floor she jumped the rest of the way down and skipped to the window sill where she opened the book ever so slowly.
The book opened with a squeaky leather sound and the paper pages rustled and awkwardly floated out of the stiff spine. It smelled like an old tome should smell and the little girl smiled in delight as she inhaled the dust and paper aroma. She noted that this book had been hand written in a black, oily ink and was elaborately decorated with calligraphy and knot-like designs that wrapped around the borders of each page. Every so often there would be a full page of exquisite art, defining the magic and reflecting the beauty of the surrounding pages. Someone had poured out their entire life on this single tome alone. She could tell. It was the most miraculous creation she had ever held. She swore that she could feel the very spirit of the one who had dedicated their life to this precious piece of fine art.
As the young girl let the pages decide where they wanted to open to, she gazed in awe at the words that leapt out at her. These were words that, if spoken, would somehow lose their impact, their zeal. She wasn't sure that she could explain it to anyone, but she just knew. Her mother was right- there were things that could only be gained and learned from reading alone. She felt herself getting absorbed into the writings that she cradled in her lap.
"I never knew..." chimed the little one's voice from behind her tangled hair that spilled down around her face as she gazed down at the book in her lap. The words on the page danced around and revealed their independent life on the old, brittle pages and she could see the meanings of each word as it leapt out at her. She giggled as the black calligraphy letters turned into ash and blew across the pages, swirled around and fell back into place. She could hear the echoes of the author in her mind and as the interwoven knot designs looped around each page she could feel the bloodlines and ancestors holding all the truths of the book together. Words turned into ebony ravens and flew from this page to that. Birds morphed into clouds and floated behind the pages and as she turned the page to chase the clouds, black stallions reared up their heads and stampeded to the next page where stars bounced and flickered and swirled into black holes. She gazed into the black holes and found that there were herbs and plants drying on twine-spun pegs that smelled like peace and health. The drying vegetation danced in a breeze and twirled around over and over again until a kaleidoscope of marvels unraveled before her eyes and hushed her to remind her that the secrets were for her because she had sought them out. Secrets like this weren't for sharing with spoken words. They were exclusively for those who loved the written words enough to seek out their treasures for themselves. These were treasures for those who were like her and her mother. They were the treasure seekers that the books loved. And now she could say that she knew. But she would never tell.
