"I remember the day I was made, when all my pieces finally came together..."
Oh the stories that the world holds that we will never hear. The histories, lives, idea, adventures we will never know. But just because we were not there, doesn't mean the...
I remember the day I was made, when all of my pieces came together. I still remember how it felt to have the needle pierce my spine and pull me together, the feeling of each page being placed, my leather cover being closed for the first time. Papa pressed my signature copper stamp on the front, adorning me with my own specific symbol. Then he picked me up, and I was placed on my first shelf. My life had finally started.
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I didn't have to wait long before I was picked. My brothers were mad, they had been waiting so much longer then I had. I was placed on the desk at the front of the store, where Papa smiled to see I had been chosen.
"I made this one myself," he had said. Then he carefully picked me up and placed me on some brown wrapping paper. I was wrapped up safe and warm, and I could feel the twine being tied snuggly around me.
I was passed into secure hands, and the following time was a blur of movement before I finally came to a halt. The next thing I knew, my wrappings were being torn off, and I heard a loud shriek.
"Father, it's perfect! My very own diary!" She stared at me in awe and I stared back at her. My very first person. I supposed she looked like any other person, brown hair, brown eyes, a long gray dress. Her teeth were a little crooked in the front, but her smile was wide and bright. I could feel that we were going to become very close friends.
She ran back to her room and set me on her desk. I could see her eyes widen in awe as she took a better look at my binding. As she ran her hands over my smooth leather cover, I felt so proud of my Papa's craftsmanship. He made me look so beautiful, I could see it in her eyes.
She reached over and picked up a pencil. This was it. My purpose was started, I was going to be written in for the first time. As she opened my front cover and I felt my spine stretch, I waited in anticipation. Maybe if I focus real hard, I can feel what she's writing...
I could feel the tip of the quill as it hit my paper, and the ink as it started to absorb into my pages.
D-E-A-R.... D-I-A-R-Y
----------/---------------/--------------/--------- Alright everyone. Pretty such it's been about 3 years since I posted anything, so I come bearing new short story. Thank you to KyleCrane14 for being an awesome friend and helping me come up with this idea.
