The dusty shelves of Finn Hudson's library felt like old friends as he scanned them for one leather-bound piece of work in particular. With each step on the creaky wood flooring, a cloud of glimmering dust rose into the air, giving the place a sort of ancient, misty atmosphere. Tiny rods of sunlight seeped into the room through the foggy windows, effectively illuminating Finn's path. The air smelled rather dank, but the effect was welcoming and familiar. It all brought back so many memories.
Finn grunted slightly when he passed through an entire row of books without finding the one that he so diligently sought. The grandchildren were downstairs, and he didn't wish to keep them waiting for long. They would grow impatient, which would make reading to them quite a difficult task, and Finn needed them to hear this story. It was more important than any fairytale full of princesses and dragons. It was more valuable than any fable with a cliché moral.
It was everything to him.
For years, he had kept the old thing hidden away, fearful of allowing the world to see it. His family had pleaded him relentlessly to reveal the secrets and adventures that lay buried beneath the thick binding, but he had declined. No time had been the right time back in those days.
However, he was growing so old, and his memories were beginning to slip away from him. As the days dragged on, Finn would lose sight of things that had once been directly in front of him. Images in his mind began to fade and tear around the edges, leaving him with blurry, unrecognizable traces of things that were once vital. Twice already he had been caught feeding his elderly dog too many times in one day. He even managed to mix up the names of his grandchildren every so often, which worried him deeply.
He needed to get this story out before everything left him completely.
After what felt like ages of searching, his wrinkled hand found the surface of the familiar parcel. With trembling fingers, he lifted it from the shelf and, with a short swipe of his sleeve, relieved the front cover of a thin layer of dust. His lips formed a soft grin as he tucked the book under the crook of his elbow and carefully made his way out of the library. After a swift final glance around the room, he closed the door behind him and headed down to the den, where his lovely grandchildren were undoubtedly squirming in their seats with anticipation.
The book felt heavy in his grasp as he neared his destination. It had remained unopened for at least sixty years at that point, and he was about to unleash its memories once more. He wasn't sure whether or not his emotions could handle it, but he needed to try; for the kids. Someone needed to hear this story. It wasn't meant to go untold forever. Now was the time.
Finn beamed the second he laid eyes on his grandchildren, Stella and Jack. They were perched on a single armchair that practically swallowed them whole, and it was one of the most adorable sights that Finn had ever witnessed. Jack, the older of the two, was on the far left side of the chair with his arms folded sternly as his sister, Stella, grabbed at his hair and giggled. At thirteen, Jack was one of the most mature and calm children that Finn had ever met, while Stella, who had recently turned six, was quite hyperactive. Finn loved them equally, though. In fact, the two of them were basically his entire world. He spoiled them to bits.
"Papa, are you going to read that?" Jack inquired softly before gently pulling Stella into his lap so that she couldn't tug at his hair any longer.
Finn took a deep, shaky breath before nodding and lifting the tattered book up for the kids to see clearly.
"Is it about a princess? Last time, you read about Cinderella and her magic boot." Stella squealed hopefully with wide, shimmering eyes.
Finn chuckled and reached for his swatch of cloth to clean his glasses with. He had indeed read Cinderella to the kids several nights before, which had been quite an ordeal for both Jack and Stella. Jack, who was definitely growing too old to tolerate stories of that nature, had quietly stormed out of the room before Cinderella had even arrived at the ball, muttering things about "girl books" and "stupid princesses". Stella, on the other hand, had been absolutely elated to finally hear the story of her favorite Disney character. She had spent the next few hours darting around her bedroom with her tiny arms outstretched, giggling about being a fairy. While she hadn't exactly gotten the purpose of the story or retained any details whatsoever, it had been one of the most memorable nights of her life. Finn saw it as a rite of passage for her. Every little girl needs to feel like a princess at some point.
"No, this story isn't about a princess or her magical shoes. It's a special kind of story, and you two are going to be the very first to hear it." He declared quietly, earning a small pout from Stella, who had clearly gotten her heart set on a second princess tale.
"Then what is it about?" Jack asked, stroking Stella's mousy-brown hair gingerly in an effort to calm her.
"It's sort of an adventure. It's a lot of different things, actually. Like I said, it's special. Very special. Even your mommy hasn't read it." Finn whispered in response, trying to get the kids interested.
At 'adventure', both Jack and Stella's faces lit up with anticipation. Finn had been reading traditional kiddie stories to the two of them since they were born, but none had been real adventures. He couldn't even count the number of times that he had overheard the kids playing outdoors, openly crafting their own little adventures utilizing only a log and some grass. They had overactive imaginations, just like their mother, and it showed. He had been saving their first adventure story for this one, though. It would leave more of an impact, and it was very special to him.
"Can you start, papa?" Stella pleaded in her trademark squeaky soprano voice.
Finn nodded slowly before laying his palm on the book. As he worked to undo the buckle that sealed the whole thing shut, he thought about what he was gearing up to do. It was going to be difficult and emotional, but it was necessary. He continued to tell himself that as the buckle fell open and the pages were liberated from the binding. Sighing, he turned to the title page and cleared his throat before beginning to read the dedication scrawled in sloppy script directly in the center of the page.
"The person who wrote this dedicated it to his wife, with love." He whispered hoarsely, immediately feeling his throat go dry.
"Papa, you said this was an adventure story, not a love story." Jack whimpered, suddenly afraid that he was going to be forced to endure another Cinderella-like novel.
Finn wiped at his eyes and flipped to the first page of the book. It was scribbled in disorderly handwriting, but he had no trouble making out the familiar text. Temporarily mesmerized by the mere sight of the words, Finn ran his index finger over the lines, feeling the indentations that the author's pen had left as he had written. Each loop, dot, and dash was a story of its own, and Finn couldn't help but be captivated by the magic and power of the words. He almost wished that he had read more back in high school.
"Jack, love is an adventure." He muttered before positioning his hands on either side of the book and leaning back into his own armchair.
After clearing his throat once more, Finn began to read.