Disclaimer: I not own Harry Potter, or anything from his world, nor do I own Inkheart or anything from that world...credit goes to J.K Rowling and Cornelia Funke.
Televison, she never did see the use in it, what did a small loud box with moving pictures have to offer that was better then a book. Books took you to other worlds, made you fall in love, cry, laugh, and even shiver in fear. All televison ever does is rot your brain, eyes, and turn people into living potatoes. She has never owned a televison is all her thirty-one years of life, and she never planed too. She owed a radio, and would somthimes play music while she read, but what she loved most was a good book read by candlelight in the silence of her small cottage.
She loved her cottage, everything was old, and everything either creeked, clanked, or groaned. It always made her feel like her cottage was alive, and was talking to her. She rented it from a weathly couple who owned not only the land it was on, but the vast estate just down the hill from it. The couple, Mr. and Mrs.Weaver, thought she was quite odd for not owning a televison, or a microwave, but were nonetheless gratful that she was quite woman who did not do any drugs of any kind.
Mr.Weaver had just finished building her a third bookcase to house more books in, she already had two bookshelves, three cabinets, and coffee table filled with books, and she had just come home from the second hand bookstore with yet another bushel load of used books. She couldn't wait to read them all, but she most excited to start reading one in particular, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire". She had already read the first three books in the "Harry Potter" series, and was dying she what happens to Harry next.
After hot bath, and hot meal, she set about making a comfortable reading spot on the floor amongst all her fluffy pillows in front of the tiny fireplace. Once it was ready she grabbed up her book, snuggled down on the floor, and began to read. Her cat, Whiskers, came and snuggled up beside her, purring loudly as she read.
"Would you like to hear the story too Whiskers?" She asked the big white fluffy cat, "Alright."
She turned the page, and started reading the next page out loud. She loved to read out loud because she felt that it brought the world from inside the book outside into her very house. Even though she was reading quite loudly she could still managed to hear Whiskers purring beside her, which was a comfort to her. She had just reading somthing about a mankey old boot, and a portkey when the gentle hum of Whiskers purring stopped abruptly. Perhaps he had gone for a bit of kibble, or a romp in his little box, but why then did she still feel a lump beside her.
She looked down, and let out a shriek. Laying beside her where Whiskers had been was a mankey old boot. "No, no, its not possible, Whiskers must have dragged it over here and left it." She thought. But then, she didn't own any boots, nor did anyone else she knew in the area where Whiskers romped, and where exactly was Whiskers. She glanced over at his food bowls, no cat, his litter box, no cat. Her heart was pounding, she quickly marked her page, and slammed the book shut. "He must have gone outside-in the pouring rain." She thought, although she new that was not likely, but she simply refused to believe that her beloved cat switched places with the mankey old boot from the book, things don't come of books.
A/N: Please read and review...thanks!