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2025!!!!!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
Happy new year!
Did you stay up til midnight?
A disturbingly short time ago, in a land uncomfortably close by...
Afraid not. I danced until eleven and then went to bed so I could still be up early. I slept in until 6:00
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
Yeah, we didn’t either, cuz we’re going on a trip today so we didn’t want to be tired.
Also, I’m mildly jealous that you consider waking up at 6 to be ‘sleeping in’, lol 😅
A disturbingly short time ago, in a land uncomfortably close by...
Ooo fun! First trip of 2025!
haha! I also go to bed at a decently early time. Eleven was LATE.
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
Sorry, didn’t get tagged! 😒
That does sound like fun! We always stay up till midnight too—last night we had a bunch of neighbor kids over, so we watched some YouTube videos and then played some games until midnight. I don’t think I’ve made any resolutions… but we’ll see, there’s still time.
Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~ C.S. Lewis
Lucky, you had a party! Only the one brother stayed up with me. Everyone else went to bed. I beat said brother two times at A Little Wordy 😃, and then we spammed each other with weird dancing penguin gifs.
🎵For our blessed lady's sake, bring us in good ale!🎵
I have a question
I started writing this short story, but before I continue, I’d like to know if it’s interesting.
No title yet
Also, sorry that it’s a little rough
When I was a child I loved to read books. Any moment I had to myself I would crack open a book, squeeze into a tiny but comfy corner and read. I would discover lost worlds, travel to far-away planets, hear the din of ancient battles, and the haunting cries of people long dead. I’d envision monsters, whether human or beast. I’d see people of ancient times, heroes, standing upon fields of victory. I liked many genres, fiction or nonfiction; fantasy, science fiction, historical, and every once in a while a book about bugs or cooking or sewing.
In my quaint little town was a book store from which you could either buy or rent books. This store I frequented, spending almost all of my money on the buying or renting. Some afternoons when I knew I was not to be called for, I would walk into the store, sit in a quiet spot and read books there. The entire place smelled of books, it was delightful. The store was owned by an old man who I had heard was plagued by some crippling ailment. I never saw him, I only saw his one and only employee who singlehandedly ran the book store in the absence of the old man.
He was a man young enough to find another place of work very easily. While he was skinny and had barely any muscle (or fat) on his body, he still had the strength of youth. His blond hair was always in need of a little styling. It very much looked as though he only ran the comb through his hair once in the morning and called it good. His skin was deathly pale, for he spent his time in the bookshop (sometimes he stayed so late that he slept among the books). The purple under his eyes and his tired gaze was that of a man who only got a few hours of troubled sleep.
He kept the bookshop open every day, except Sundays, and holidays. On the occasion that he needed to travel to get a new order of books, he traveled at night and was back before it was time to open at seven o’clock sharp every morning.
When the door would ring as someone entered, he would lift his eyes from his book (he was always reading books, I believe he has read all the books in the shop at least once, probably twice) nod a greeting, ask if they needed any help, and if they said no, return to his book until they did need assistance or were purchasing something. He was a man who only spoke when necessary, and when he did, it was always with the same blank emotion that his face held. For this reason, people rarely had conversation with him, and if they did, it was often one-sided. Because of this, for the longest time I didn’t even know his name.
One day, as I was returning a rented book and pulling out a new one, I noticed the book he had chosen was especially thick and old. As I approached the counter, he was bent over it, delicately and meticulously repairing the old cover that had to have been repaired a thousand times.
I pulled myself up to rest upon the edge of the counter, leaning over to watch with interest. He was so absorbed in his restoration that he seemed unaware of my watching eyes. After a time, he looked up, staring at me with his blank expression.
“What book is that? I can’t read the title,” I asked.
“It’s a history book.”
“I thought I had read all the history books you had! Can I read this one once you’re finished?”
“No, but I did get you more books.” He gently set aside the old book, telling me not to touch it. Rising from his seat, he went to a box he had behind the counter, picking it up and placing it in front of me. As he did so, I noticed for the first time a small bandage on one of his hands. “I believe this is a fitting selection for you.”
I blinked. “Did you get these just for me?”
“Yes.”
I thanked him with delight, pulling out the books and looking at them. He was right that this was a fitting selection for me! All my favorite authors and new authors too, who wrote similar things to my favorite ones. “How did you know I would like these?” I asked in wonder.
“I looked into my records and found the books you take out most often, then I found others matching the genre and authors. You can have the entire box for two Won.”
I was shocked. Two Won? The entire box! “Wait, for rent or buy?”
“You give me two Won, you own these forever.”
It took me quite a while to calm my excitement. I had a single Marble in my pocket at the moment for renting the book I had previous chosen. I gave it to him right then, telling him I’d bring the other three Marbles and Won when I could get it. He nodded, pulling out a small book from a drawer, taking out a pen, opening the book to a page titled with my name (how he knew it, I don’t know) writing the date, and that I had paid a marble out of two Won owed. Then he handed me two books from the box, and set the box back down behind the counter.
“When you have the rest of the money, you can have the rest of the books.”
“Deal!” I stuck out my hand to shake with him, which he hesitantly took. I took that moment to ask about his hand, but he told me to hurry home with my books before it got too late without answering me.
By the end of the week, I was once again back in the bookstore with a cheery hello, laying out three marbles before him. He wrote it down in his little accounting book, before handing me six more books from the box. I told him to keep them in the box for now since I’d soon be able to take all of the books home with me.
“I read one of the books you gave me. It was wonderful! I think I’ve a new favorite book!”
He nodded quietly.
“How are you doing today?” I was hoping to strike up a conversation like we had earlier that week, since that was the first time we had spoken much to each other, and while his voice and face was blank and dull I strangely liked talking with him.
He shrugged.
“Are you getting anymore new books soon?”
He shook his head.
“How is your restoring of that history book going?” Suddenly, something in his blue eyes sparked. He put the old book on the counter in front of me. While the pages were still tattered, the cover looked almost new, with oiled red leather, gold leaf, and the title, in a language I did not recognize, stamped on the front and painted in black, outlined in gold. It was marvelous work, and spent a moment gaping at it. “May I touch it?”
For the first time, in his face I saw some kind of emotion. Was it pride in his work? “You may, but be careful.”
I gently, with great reverence and respect, ran my fingers over the new cover. Flawless and smooth. “Where did you learn to do this?”
He motioned with his hand over the entire shop. “You would be surprised how much knowledge is to be found in this tiny building. This very book alone under your fingertips has things written within that only few know about in fairy tales.”
Whatever this strange mood that had come over him was, I didn’t know, but I liked it, for I had never seen him so full of emotion. “But what is the title?”
“The History of Wond.”
“If it has so much knowledge, how did you get it?”
“It is an heirloom.” He carefully took the book away, opening it to a page with the portrait of a young man, painted in full color by some ancient artist. He showed it to me. “This is my ancestor, Igua.”
He looked nothing a like to his ancestor. Igua had brown hair, he had blond. Igua had green eyes, he had blue. Igua looked like he got sleep, he looked like he barely did. Igua also was scarred, for his entire left side of his face had spidering burns.
Any suggestions or feedback would be appreciated.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)I found it intriguing. Please tag me if you post more. 🙂
🎵For our blessed lady's sake, bring us in good ale!🎵
I hung out with my cousins playing mario kart and watching movies all night. It was fun.
Any of you guys have unique family traditions for the new year? :]
🎵It takes a long time to wait 🌻
you’re nuts.
lolololol
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
@rae oooooh I like that story!"When in doubt, eat cheese crackers."-me to my charries who don't even know about cheese crackers
We watched Fiddler on the Roof and ate homemade oliebollen. 🙂
#ProtectAdolinKholin
I was up till 2:00 last night. And…1:00 most other nights.
🎵For our blessed lady's sake, bring us in good ale!🎵
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