A Story
The small child stared at the tantalizing fairytale book on the top shelf of the bookcase with her green, glittering eyes. It had caught her eyes a few weeks ago, but she never dared ask her parents if she could take it down and open its heavy covers, because she knew that they kept it up there for a reason. The book’s covers were heavy, and painted with a musty shade of dark purple. The golden edges of its spine resembled the locks of her un-brushed frizzy hair that was hastily braided into two side braids and sent out a small atmosphere of a must, from not being washed in a few days. The spine glistened in the office light, making the book look royal, and it attracted her toward its contents even more.
Her hands began to sweat from the anxiety she now contained. When she realized that her hands were sticky from the sweat, she gently wiped her wet palms on her delicate white dress made of flower-patterned and square-shaped lace. A few brown dirt spots lingered on the clothing from her dirty hands. She looked back at the book, her hands dangling at her sides began to form a small fist; she wanted that book really badly.
She remembered her parents taking that book down many times before, but she just considered it as a normal book back then. The girl stared back at the book as it lay at an angle, drooping off the shelf, and it looked as mysterious as ever, signaling her to climb up and reach it. The child just looked at in puzzling expressions, wondering how in the world she would be able to lay her hands upon that prized object.
She carefully examined the room around her, searching for anything that might aid her in this dangerous journey. After eyeballing the office several times, nothing came into mind. Her eyes started to fog up and the skin around it began to puff up and turn red; she was about to cry from the disappointment. The sad child sighed and stared back at the purple and gold book. Helplessly, she walked away, shuffling her feet against the wooden floor, as if dragging her dead soul out of the room.
A few days later, the child once again found herself viewing the book. Ever since the first day that she had laid eyes on it, she couldn’t help but wonder what could that book hide. The child was so obsessed, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and her face became pale. Her hair became even more dirty and rotten, and the oily ends of each strand seemed to melt right onto her scalp, but she didn’t care. Her unwashed face was covered in dirty spots and her white dress was now a mixture of gray and black.
Her mom, however, seemed to pay no attention. All day, she remained behind her locked bedroom door. What she does back there was another mystery that the little girl yearned to find out. Often, the little girl tried to peer into the bedroom through the thin crack at the bottom of the door. All she could see was a moving figure that was reflected against the polished floor. The room seemed bright compared to the rest of the house and it had a fresh smell to it. The rest of the house seemed gloomy and dead in comparison.
The little girl collected all her courage and knocked on the antique bedroom door. The doorknob turned slowly and her mother’s pale face came out of the room. She eyed her poor, dirty little daughter, but her eyes were distant and seemed to have no interest in cleaning her up.
“Need anything?” her mom asked as if she didn’t notice how pale and sick her daughter looked. Her face showed no concern.
“Do you know the book that is on the top shelf?” the little girl said weakly, but her eyes still seemed to be more alive than her mother’s.
“I am quite aware of it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Nothing of your concern.”
“Why?”
“You will find out when the time is right.”
Her mother seemed annoyed now, trying at her hardest to remain patient. The little girl, on the other hand, didn’t give up.
“Can I see it now?”
“No!” her mother yelled and slammed the door. Leaving dust flying in the air.
The little girl, however, didn’t seem to be very affected. She had this kind of conversation many times before and this time was no different than the others. She decided that it was at best to drop the idea of the book.
A few months passed and the child had already forgotten about the book until one day, while passing her mother’s bedroom door again, she heard her mention it. The picture of that rich, purple book reappeared in her mind. Taller and older now, she regained determination to reach that mysterious book.
Able to climb the shelf now, step by step, the child ascended. Her hands reached far above her and gripped tight to pull her entire body upwards. She used her hand to sweep aside her flying gold strands of untamed hair that was covering her vision every once in a while. She climbed slowly upwards and finally reached the top. She sat on the top shelf and slowly inched her way towards the book.
When finally, after months and months of anxiety, she was able to put her hands upon the dusty think covers of the book. The child’s eyes began to fill with wonder and she imagined all the amazing things that could lie in between those hard glossy covers.
She shook with excitement but just then, the shelf collapsed. She fell to the ground and mountains of books piled above her. She screamed but her mother, being behind the bedroom door, was unable to hear her. The girl couldn’t move. All the heavy books seemed to push her down. She wrestled and tried to pull her body out from the pile. It was no use.
After some time, the mother finally emerged from her room. Still unaware that her daughter was buried under the pile of books, she called her name. The mother’s voice echoed through the dark empty house. Still not worried, she began to search the rooms. She felt annoyed and thought that her daughter was hiding so she tried calling her name again. There was still no response. Finally, after searching the house, the mother got to the last room.
When she opened the door, a huge pile of books stood in her way. Her remote eyes widened. She used her thin fingers to rummage through the pile. Finally, she uncovered her little daughter. However, it was too late. The girl had stopped breathing.