I set the pen down and brought my hand up to my face, massaging my temples. "I don't see why they want me to write this. . ." I mumbled. "It's been years since the war, it's not like anybody cares about it any more. . ."

At that moment a little boy bounded into my study and peered over the top of the desk. He noticed the pen and paper and looked at me curiously. "Miss Alana. . .waht are yous writing?" I smiled at his speech. He was so little and just learning proper English. I waved him over to the other side of the desk and picked him up, setting him in my lap.

"I'm writing a story," I said while tapping his nose. His nose crinkled up but at the mention of a story his eyes widened.

"Really? Waht kinda story? Is it about lions and kings?" A soft smile crossed my face at his enthusiasm.

"It's actually a story about me." I brought my hand up and pointed to where I had written my name on the parchment. "See?" His small fingers followed mine and pointed at the name as well and nodded. He then turned and looked up at me.

"Why are yous writing a story about youself? Don't you alweady know abouts youself?" I laughed at his question but he continued to look at me with a puzzled expression.

"They want to know about the war. . .and apparently I am a good person to explain it. . ." I tried to keep my expression neutral, but whenever those thoughts emerged, a wave of sadness always overcame me. I guess he could tell something was wrong.

"Are you ok Miss Alana?" He turned around in my lap and looked up at me, his eyes wide. A soft smile crossed my face and I pulled him in for a hug, stroking his hair softly.

"Yes. . .I'm alright, as long as you are here." I could feel him smile against my shoulder and then watched his face look up at mine.

"Do yous think yous could tell me the story? If it doesn't make yous sad?" I nodded.

"It would be nice to tell somebody." I turned him back around and scooted towards the desk, grabbing the pen. "Maybe you can even help me write it." His smile grew wide at that idea.

"So wheres do wes start?"

"At the beginning of course. . .I think I'll start with meeting Arthur."

A bookstore. A small cozy shop hidden down the side street of London's downtown area. Nice warm browns covering the outside, making it look homey, inviting. This is where our story begins.

I was the owner of this small establishment, named Alana's Adventures. I would get up every morning and open the store promptly at eight. Living right upstairs I never had to worry about the traffic or weather.

The shop had a nice flow of business. It was never overcrowded but it was never empty either. We had regulars who would come in and often times spend the whole day there. Reading and chatting away.

I remember my favorite section of the book store was always the fantasy section, specifically the books about magic.

"Magic?"

"Yes. Books with fairies and dragons. Wizards and witches." I poked his cheek, "Even the occasional vampire book." The boys' face scrunched up.

"Vampires are evil." He brought his hands up making fake fangs. "Schee?" I laughed at his poor attempt at a vampire.

"Yes, most of the times they are. But I'm talking about the good ones." His hands dropped from his face and his mouth formed a small 'o' shape.

"Ooh I see." He then looked down at the paper. "What happened next?"

"Well. . ."

I could sit there and read countless books everyday. I never once grew tired of reading. Regardless of how many times I had read a book, it always excited me when I reread it.

It was in this very section that I met someone. Someone by the name of Arthur Kirkland.

It was a very dreary day when he walked into the bookstore. London had been experiencing some terrible storms so business had been a bit slow, but that was just more time to myself. I suppose. I was sitting in the back in the fantasy section when he walked in. It was nearly closing time so I set down what I had been reading and walked towards the front.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I figured that one more customer wouldn't hurt, it wasn't like I had anywhere to go. He looked up as I approached, not realizing I had been back there. He seemed startled for a moment but recovered quickly.

"I'm just looking for something good to read that will hold me for a while."

"Well what kind of book might you be looking for?" I started to walk over towards the adult novels figuring he would want some kind of Stephen King book or something of that nature. That's why his answer took me by surprise.

"Magic?" I guess he could tell I was surprised by his answer. "You know, like fantasy-related stuff?" I felt a smile tug at my lips. It was never often that a person like him would walk in asking for a book on magic. I had looked him up and down again, taking noted of his argyle sweater and pressed slacks. He was very neatly groomed which even further made me wonder why someone like him would be fascinated by children's novels. It's not like I could really judge though. I mean I was a twenty year old who still read the Harry Potter books on a weekly basis.

"Those books are back here," I gestured back to where I had come from and led him to the small corner where I kept them all. The book I was reading was still lying on the coffee table, bookmark poking out when he picked it up. He read the back of it and then looked up at me.

'Are you reading this one?' I nodded, it was one of my favorites. 'The Book of Story Beginnings' was written on the front.

"Yes. It's a very good book. Full of adventure and mystery." I took the book from his grasp, flipping it open to where you could see some of the drawings of the creatures inside the book. "If you're are looking for a book that will grab your attention, this is a good one." I slipped my bookmark out in case he wanted to buy it.

"Oh you didn't have to take out the bookmark. I would hate for you to have lost your place." I waved off his apology.

"It's fine, honest. I've read that book dozens of times. It's probably dying to be in new hands anyways." His eyebrows raised at the statement and took another look at the book before a grin crossed his face.

"Then I'll guess I'll take this one," he spoke. We walked to the front of the store and as he sat the book on the counter, he began to fish out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?" I placed my hands on the book, and pushed it towards him.

"No charge." I stated, a smile crossing my face. His emerald eyes widened.

"I couldn't possibly do that love. I have to give you something." I tried waving him off.

"I don't want your money." I picked the book up and put it in a bag to protect it from the rain. "But, if you feel like you have to do something. . .come back when your done reading and tell me what you think." I could tell he was thinking against it, but I could be stubborn if I wanted to and I think he could tell.

"Alright then. I'll be gone for two weeks on business but once I'm back I'll drop in." I smiled at his statement and handed him the bag. As he took it and began to walk towards the door, he suddenly spun around. "I just realized that I never caught your name love." I couldn't help but laugh at his actions.

"Alana, Alana Andrews. And yours?"

"Arthur Kirkland." I smiled. Arthur was a nice name. One I was always fond of.

"Well it was a pleasure to meet you Arthur."

"And to you as well Alana." I watched him walk out the door and soon followed, turning the 'open' sign around to 'closed'. As I looked out the window I could see his figure retreating down the small alley my shop was on. Something about him piqued my interest. And I didn't know then, but this was the man I would soon fall in love with..

I set the pen down as I finished telling my story, looking at the page I had just written. I could feel the boy shift in my lap to look up at me.

"So did he ever comes back?" I nodded with a smile.

"He came back when he promised. We had tea and spent the whole day discussing out favorite fantasy novels. I even gave him a few more to look at and he did the same. From then on we became close friends. Arthur would stop by several times a week and we would just hang out." The little boy nodded and looked at the parchment.

"So waht happened after yall became friends?" I stretched my arms, feeling a bit tired an I glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine a clock.

"You know. . .I think it might be someones bed time?" The boy crossed his arms and pouted.

"But I wanna hear more." A waved my finger at him.

"Nope, gentlemen do not pout. And besides, I'll save the next part for tomorrow alright?" His pout began to disappear and he looked up at me with wide eyes.

"You promise?" He held out his pinkie. I smiled in response and linked our pinkies together.

"Pinkie promise."