Where Readers & Writers Connect
Today, I brought home a bit of fluff. I don’t know how I found it; I was walking home and BAM! A bit of fluff hits me right in the face. I peeled it off my face and looked at this strange fluff that sparkled in the morning sun. I had a weird feeling I was supposed to bring it home, and here I am with a handful of fluff in the middle of my kitchen.
I noticed a magazine on the table. See, my parents were archaeologists, so they studied prehistoric people and their artifacts. They took a particular interest in it, so they bought magazines and books about it, those sort of things, then expected me to read it. When I was a little kid, you’d think my parents would read me fairytales and kid stories. No, they read me history and mythology books.
I flipped through it with interest, putting the fluff in my pocket for later. It had pictures of windbreaks, prehistoric shelters, and burins, tools that were used to make other tools. I didn’t bother reading the full magazine because, well, archaeology didn’t interest me as much as my parents thought. But, one page I stopped to look at. It had little pictures of different runes. I didn’t recognize them. Gladly.
I sighed. Sometimes my parents were too much into their job. But, that’s how parents sometimes are, right? I threw the magazine back on the table and quickly debated whether I should throw it away or leave it on the table. I was feeling calm today, so I dumped it on the table and bounded up the stairs to my room.