The Mysteries Behind Storytelling

Sitting By The Campfire

The soft breeze blows against my dark, silky hair as I sit alongside the campfire. I feel the hot fumes coming from the flames, slightly heat up my cheeks. Hearing nothing, all I am able to hear is the sizzle coming from the wood, as the flames empower it. I came to the woods alone, as I feel reading my storybook while watching the fire, makes it come to life. The life at home is not great either, the sense of not being loved is saddening as coming from a Family of 6, no one really notices me if I leave. As a boy, I got into a few of bad habits. Many of which have changed my life completely into the worst, dealing with drugs and drinking alcohol, made me lose the love of the people I cared the most about. Slowly drifting away from the pain, I go to a place that makes me happy, a place where my sorrow disappears. I walk a fair bit with just a backpack with a 400 page book and make my way to the peak of the hill, where I read all night until the sun rises in the horizon. This place is the most important thing I have that seeks querencia. Where I feel my best self, Where I can be myself, Where no one gives a damn about who I am. Only the flames of the fire, the sound of the wind and the mysteries hidden in my book truly know who I am. So, this book. The book that I read every night at this campfire, that is quite an ancient book, holds many secrets, but as I keep reading the same stories night by night, I start to discover the true meaning about these stories. I get my backpack and unzip the first section and grab out a massive book weighing around 45 lbs and place it by the campfire. The book lights up and the wind blows it to page 1. My eyes reach the first word, "The" and then wind let out a huge gush, making the book show the front cover.