This was written as an explanation to myself and my family on why I read so much as a child. Now it's like a security blanket that I will never get rid of. My coping mechanism if you will. I wanted to put this up because I honestly thing Jack would have the same quirk as I do lol.
Books are good. Some times they get dusty and made you sneeze, but if you just brush them off every once in a while they stay clean and true and unprovocative. except for, you know, when the words in side are super provocative and all you want to do after reading them is laugh, or cry, or scream... Yeah that happens a lot.
But all in all, books are good. They make good friends. Which is more than can be said for most people, immortal or otherwise, when it came to Jack.
Books wouldn't hurt you unless the author killed off a character you loved, or you dropped it on your face.
Books helped you through rough times by giving good advice that you didn't know you needed until you read it. This usually went well until you realized it was bad advice.
And books gave you a focus so you could ignore the world around you. It couldn't hurt you if you weren't acknowledging it.
So he reads. A lot. Like a lot a lot. Like whenever he wasn't spreading snow and fun, or due to the recent turn of events at a guardians meeting, he was reading. Curled up in a cool corner of the Pole. Balancing easily on the branch of a tree. stretched out in the green grass of the Warren. sitting cross-legged on the bolder by the pond at the Tooth Palace. Reclining on a cloud of golden dream sand high above all the sleeping children. He read when ever possible.
When the other guardians first discovered his habit it seemed to surprise them. But North immediately offered him full use of his massive library and was rewarded by an unexpected tackle-hug that nearly knocked the big man off his feet. Jack then explained how hard it was to find readable books when you weren't really welcome inside buildings and most books that where thrown away where either complete rubbish or damaged beyond coherency.
The older members of their exclusive group just shrugged his excessive reading off as one of Jack's many eccentricities and moved on. It wasn't until much later that they realized the reason behind it.
After that you could often find Tooth curled up on the next couch over with a book of her own taking a much needed rest.
Or North handing the smaller spirit a new book that he thought the boy would like.
And Sandy would have long conversations with Jack about all the books the both of them had read.
But Bunny, Bunny would listen to Jack retell the stories and describe his favorite scenes all year long, and then when Easter came Jack would find three or four eggs in the library at the Pole all painted with stunning renditions of the things he described. These would go to a special place in the room North gave him to be frozen and kept for eternity.
Yes books are great friends for those of us who are lonely, but even they can pale in comparison to the real thing.
Short but sweet. What do ya think?