Intro: The Grimoire
I have never really cared for beginnings. Even when I was younger, i'd always skip the first few pages of any book that I was reading, and would start at the second chapter, where things would usually pick up in pace. Beginnings are pointless, why bother worrying about the start of something when the middle and end are so much more exciting? To me, they represent everything I hate about life; boredom. Like my life at the moment, beginnings are the periods of time that happen before the action, before the the excitement and the real story unfolds. If it were up to me, they wouldn't even exist, and I would fast forward straight to the time were thing things weren't so dull. But unfortunately, it's not up to me, and they do exist.
This is were I am now; my beginning. And at 15, it's just as dull as everyone else's. Today is the final day of the school year, and I couldn't be happier because of it. I despise school, and the fact that I dont have to set eyes upon it for 3 months fills me with joy. Because it's the last day, the entire year is being forced to attend a school assembly, as it is every year, however the prospect of sitting in a stuffy auditorium for 2 hours while the principal rambles on about love and friendship doesn't exactly entice me, so I had decided to skip it.
Instead, I resolved to go shopping, and empty my mind of any of the grim thoughts of the previous academic year. The day was a pleasant one, and I dressed casually with nothing but a pair of blue jeans and sleeveless white top to carry me down. It was still about 11 o'clock and I was too tired to style my hair properly, so I left it down. I had been growing it for a while now, and it fell just past the pockets of my jeans in a dark brown curtain. Handbags irritate me and I can never be fussed to lug one around with me, so instead I just keep my cash in whatever pair of shoes I happen to be wearing that day.
I raced down the stairs of my house and leapt into the kitchen. I needed to be fast, real fast; there was a top on sale at a store in the centre of town and I wanted to be there when the store opened to make sure I could find one in my size. I didn't have time to make anything fancy to eat so I rummaged around in the refrigerator and found some left-over pizza from a few nights before.
That'll have to do, I thought to myself. I slammed to fridge door shut and continued looking for the rest of my stuff.
Where are my keys!? I ran back upstairs to my bedroom and found them under the bed , along with a pair of shoes with some cash in them, yes!
I was finished gathering my stuff, and I had just stepped out of the door when I remembered something.
What day is it today? I checked my cell phone and confirmed my fears, Friday, damn!
I had a library book that I'd taken out a couple of weeks ago that I still hadn't returned, and it was due in at 12 o'clock today.
There's no way I can make it to the store opening without missing my library book deadline, and I cant afford to hand in another late book! While still contemplating what choice I should make, I walked over to the kitchen counter to retrieve the book that had so suddenly, and rudely, interrupted my day.
The front page of the book read: Great Expectations, By Charles Dickens
I wrinkled my nose upon reading the title. Reading this particular novel had been one of the most unbearable moments of my high school education and had also been the catalyst in a growing hatred for classical British novelists. My english teacher was of course baffled to hear that I, who had a reputation as a bit of a book worm, hated what was supposed to be one of the greatest classical novels ever written, but I found his appreciation of the book far more concerning. This was the case with nearly all of my subjects at school, all the teachers always said the same thing; you cant live in a dream world Lyra, things aren't always savages and swordplay!
I of course ignored all of these comments, and continued to live in my own world of day dreams and fantasy novels, and planned to continue doing so.
But I cant keep reading if I get banned from the library for forgetting to hand back books on time can I?
I spent several minutes just standing on the same spot next to the kitchen counter,
Book or top, book or top?
tapping my left foot repeatedly,
book or top, book or top?
and reminding myself of the choice that I knew I didn't really have,
book.
I snatched the book of the counter, spun around on my heal and stormed out the house with a loud slam of the door behind me, infuriated at my own forgetfulness.
