My First Reading Library Usborne Novels & Stories

We didn't have this back in the my pack but my uncle always got me books to read. Eager to explore, I set off down the aisles, my fingers grazing the spines of countless books. Each one seemed to whisper its secrets to me, beckoning me further into the labyrinth of knowledge. I couldn't contain my excitement as I selected my first book, feeling its rough texture beneath my fingertips. I found a comfortable spot in a cozy nook, nestled among the towering shelves, and began to lose myself in the words.

And even when they hadn’t… I no longer let them land. I had too much peace in me now. There wasn’t room for shame anymore. Back at the house, I carried the books Darren had ordered for the nursery upstairs and placed them on the newly assembled shelf. They were all hardcovers with soft pastel covers and gold-stamped lettering: Goodnight Moon, The Velveteen Rabbit, Where the Wild Things Are, Dream Big, Little One, I Am Enough. I traced the spine of each book with my fingertip, whispering the titles softly.

It was a book they had read countless times, but each time, it held a new magic, a new wonder for Theo. “Once upon a time,” Hazel began, her voice soft and soothing, “there was a little bear named Barnaby who loved to go on adventures.” Theo’s eyes widened, his attention captivated by the story. He listened intently, his tiny fingers tracing the illustrations, his imagination soaring with each word Hazel spoke. The story of Barnaby the bear, his adventures in the forest, his encounters with talking squirrels and mischievous rabbits, filled the room with a sense of magic and wonder. Theo giggled at Barnaby’s antics, his heart filled with joy.

Sniffing once more, I wipe my tears away and walk out of the room with no particular direction in mind to go. Before I know it, I find myself at the entrance of the library. I would prefer to paint, but this is the only outlet I know. Besides, I haven't explored the gardens yet. I should do that really soon. Walking inside, I go to the last section where I know that I will barely be seen and pick up the first book my hand touched. ‘Queen melissa.’ Curious, I begin to read. She happens to be the first Queen of the United Kingdom. And soon, every thought flows away and I'm invested in her story.

Goosebumps rose along my arms and I shivered as I read the title. My fingers were tracing the gold letters on the cover when I heard the door of the library open up and a voice. “What are you doing here?”

I had no idea where to go so I walked into a library filled with dust and books. I greeted the Libyan with a smile and for the first time the library smiled at me, I was astonished. I always knew grumpy Liberians and I came to a conclusion . That’s how they were trained but I was wrong. I got into the library and picked up a huge book with the title giving me ideas. I open the book to a Picture if an ascent family. I looked back at the title. “The underworld..” I murmured quietly trying not to draw attention to myself.

Not yet. So I let the memories rise. Some years ago. Sunlight streamed through the library’s leaded glass windows, painting gold squares on Persian rugs in our Monaco villa. I was five, barefoot and laughing, chasing dust motes in the air. My mother knelt beside me, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, fingers tracing the spine of a first-edition Peter Rabbit. "This one’s special, ma chérie," she’d whispered, her voice warm as honey. "Beatrix Potter didn’t win with magic. She won with kindness." She pressed the book into my hands. "Remember that. Kindness is the only currency that never devalues."

He was a greenhorn in the finding of books here since he had never been in here talk more of finding books for the Alpha. Another thing why this library was different was because most of the books in here were strange. They were very strange and most of them were large books with hard spines and gold or silver letterings. Most of them did not have any pictures in their fronts; there was usually only a plain brown, black or white cover and then the name of the book with that of the author's. It was a bit unnerving to see books like that especially since all the books I had known since childhood were the ones that had colorful pictures and drawings in them. I wasn't used to these types of book

* Thanks for reading. Add to your libraries. .

That sounded cool. I reached up on my tippy toes and pulled it out, letting out a tiny “oomph” from how heavy it was. The cover had a weird drawing on it, kinda like a bird with fire for wings, and something else I didn’t understand. It made my belly feel funny, like when I ate too much candy. I carried it over to Daddy’s big desk and opened the first page, eyes wide. But before I could even read the first word— “Evelyn Skye Williams!”