Bastian slowly approached his bed, more specifically his strangely large book. He looked back at me several times, indicating that he wanted me to follow him. Each time he looked back, I noticed that his smile never faded. There was something about the way he approached the book, the way he glanced at it with a look of complete awe, that made me realize how special the book was to him. At the same time, though, a wave of uneasiness struck me unexpectedly.

He took a seat on the bed, right next to the book. He nodded towards the enormous novel.

"Wanna give it a whirl?" He asked, his eyes almost shining in hope.

I glanced at the book for a moment, and reread the title. The NeverEnding Story... It seemed unfitting for a book that obviously had an end. Of course, the title more than likely reflected a main idea in the book. The character's main conflict seemed like it would never end, making their entire life resemble an unending story. Time continued to repeat itself until the character corrected a certain mistake, or maybe saved a person's life. No, that last one is just ridiculous.

"What's it about?" I asked.

Bastian simply shrugged.

"You'll just have to read and see."

I raised an eyebrow. Was there a specific reason why he didn't want to tell me what the book was about? It only made me feel even more uncertain as to whether or not I should read the book. Based on the title, I could only guess that it would have magical elements to it. After all, every story has to end at some point, and time never ceases to continue to go on smoothly. The last thing that I wanted to do was associate myself with anything as illogical as fantasy, even though I planned on it since the minute my cousin welcomed me into his house.

Even so, I found myself sitting next to Bastian on the bed, the book in between us. I couldn't exactly say to Bastian "No, I can't read it because I'm scared that it'll have a flying dog or something irrational like that.". Not only would I sound like a complete idiot, I would confuse my cousin as well. Since we haven't been in contact with each other in three years, he has failed to notice my change in preferred genre. When we were kids, fantasy was the center of our lives, so it was only obvious that he'd think that I hadn't changed. Also, if I was going to bore him with all of the things that I wanted to do over the next two weeks, I should at least do something that he wanted to do.

With that in my mind, I reluctantly opened the book to reveal the first page of many. Interestingly enough, the story began without a title page, prologue, or anything of the sort. The very first thing that caught my attention was the intricate design of a T, which started the first paragraph. I hesitated for a moment, breathing in deeply before letting the air out, and read the first few lines. To see how the words would feel on my tongue, I read out loud.

"Thunder roared in the midnight sky as rain crashed down into the black mud." I began reading, grabbing my cousin's full attention. "This stormy night marked the anniversary of a brutal death, one that was difficult to stomach yet was undeniably required for the sake of Fantasia. As punishment for her horrendous crimes, her hollow corpse was buried in the very center of the Swamps of Sadness. Even in the afterlife, she would suffer alone with no one but herself to blame..."

The paragraph wasn't even finished, and I could not handle reading another word. How could they do something as cruel as that to a simple criminal? Granted, I was unaware of what she was guilty of, and by the extremity of the execution, it was at least murder. Even so, nobody deserved to be hollowed out completely and buried in a swamp... The Swamps of Sadness, they called it. Her death was required for the sake of Fantasia? Was that a person? A group of people? A city, or world?

"Are you okay?" Bastian asked all of a sudden, bringing me back to reality.

"Thanks for letting me read," I replied quickly, "but I think I'm done for now."

He gave me a questioning look.

"I'm sorry, I just... I haven't been able to deal with anything remotely magical since my... my mom died."

I kept my eyes fixed on the carpet, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that Bastian's expression changed from one of confusion to one of sympathy. If anyone could relate to my current situation, it was Bastian. He had to go through the exact same thing, so he knew exactly how difficult it was to deal with the loss of a parent. We were silent for a moment or two, lost in our own thoughts.

"What about your mom reminds you of fantasy?" Bastian asked me, breaking the silence.

I looked up at him for a moment, startled. Just a second later, my gaze went back to the floor.

"She used to read me fantasy stories every night before I went to bed." I replied, smiling despite my sadness. "She'd always pick the ones with the brave heroes and the beautiful princesses, since they were my favorite. When I got older, she would read me a chapter of a larger book every night. Even around the house, that woman lived and breathed magic."

The first year after her death, I would have broke down crying with just the mention of her name. The second year, it would range from teary eyes to uncontrollable waterfalls. The third year, I had always managed to stop anyone from mentioning my mother, so I hadn't cried at all. Surprisingly enough, I had spent a good twenty seconds of my time talking about what I loved the most about her, and my depressed state didn't trigger any tears. It was as if I had cried so much in the past that I was incapable of shedding any more tears no matter how upset I got.

"Well, one thing is certain." Bastian stated. "Your mother never read you a bedtime story quite like this."

I turned my head towards him.

"What makes you so sure?" I asked.

His answer came almost instantly.

"There's no book in the world quite like this one."

We were silent for a moment or two, and I was simply staring blankly at the book beside me. Even the first paragraph was one that resembled nothing that I had heard before, and reading it was almost refreshing. Though I had been too focused on the cruelty done to the criminal to realize it, the magical elements in the beginning alone were unlike anything I've ever read. That was the one and only thing that I enjoyed about reading the passage, however. If the story had been altered in a way so that it had the same creative style, but was a more realistic genre, I might have read on.

"I'm sorry, I just can't handle reading anything unrealistic." I said. "I feel like if I read books that focus more on what could very well happen in the real world, I'll be learning things that could benefit me at some point in life. Magic doesn't have that same effect on me, and it could quite possibly have the opposite."

Bastian stared at me, quiet and almost dumbfounded. This was understandable, for the last time he saw me, my previous statement would have been so false that it would be unforgivable for me to have even said it. Now, I almost felt embarrassed to say what I've been thinking for the past three years. Even worse, the way I said it almost made me feel like I was unintentionally insulting my cousin for enjoying such a thing.

"Not all fantasy is bad." He replied calmly. "Remember when we were kids? When we'd run around the house, pretending that the entire place was a magical world? We'd have our swords out, ready to fight any evil creatures that threatened the land. Even if we got defeated, you'd have that same smile-"

"We were kids."

"That doesn't mean that we can't still have fun."

I suddenly had nothing left to say. I had never believed that having fun was a bad thing, especially since I was still a teenager. However, I had come to think of reading my non-fiction and mystery novels as fun. I had yet to meet a person my age that shared my same taste in entertainment, since most teenagers found fun through music or social gatherings. My cousin was the only other person I knew that loved books as much as I did, and now I couldn't even bear to read a paragraph of his preferred genre.

Bastian glanced over at the book for a moment or two, almost as if he were trying to come up with an answer for a difficult question. After what seemed like minutes, he looked up at me with a smile.

"I think I know what can help." He said.

He picked up the book and set it in his lap. His finger trailed down the first page, trying to find the place that I had stopped reading. When he found the sentence after it, he began reading.

"Suddenly, a flash of lightning came down from the sky and struck the mud directly above the corpse. The power surged deeper into the earth until it came in contact with the woman. It seeped into her decaying flesh, sending bolts of electricity throughout her body. The very second that it struck her heart, she sprung to life. Her-"

I had been staring blankly at him the entire time, trying to block out as much of his reading as possible. I figured that it would be rude if I stopped him in the middle of the paragraph and left the room, so all that I could do was sit and stare. However, the sound of another voice filling the room turned my attention back to the book. It was more of a raspy whisper than anything, though I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman's voice. One thing was certain, there was no way that Bastian was making the noise, for he was gawking at the book with his mouth completely shut.

"Her fist, reduced to merely bone and rotten flesh, bolted out of the mud like the lightning above her. She stretched her weakened appendage before raising the second hand, mimicking the same speed."

A cold shiver ran down my spine, bringing goosebumps to my arms.

"Quit it, Bastian." I said, my fear making it difficult for me to sound angry.

"It's not me." He whispered.

The voice spoke the words louder and much faster, making it so that everything they said sounded like one gigantic sentence. Each syllable was very distinctly pronounced, and it almost sounded like they were trying to spit the sounds at our faces.

"The cold drops that hit her fists brought a sinister smile to her buried face As black mud seeped into her open mouth she began to rise up from the grave that she's been suffering in for centuries A frightening roll of thunder clapped almost ceremoniously as her face rose back to the surface Her body clothed in a translucent red robe came after and seemed to be welcomed by the frigid air and shadowy night clouds."

"Bastian, stop it!" I yelled. "You're scaring me!"

"I told you, it isn't me!"

"Then who is it?"

"How should I..."

He stopped, just as the menacing voice stopped reading words from the book. Instead, they were replaced by two words, said over and over again as if she were chanting them.

"Come back." They snarled. "Come back. Come back. Come back! Come back!"

My attention was suddenly drawn to the first page of the book, and for good reason. The tan paper, as unbelievable as it sounded, began to turn an entirely different color in the center. The sudden red began as the size of a rain drop, but wasted no time expanding to fill the entire page. The black letters were lost in the sea of thick red water that erupted from the paper. Bastian ran his fingers across the page, but there was no tangible liquid on the paper. All that I was able to do was move closer to the book, now completely engulfed in a horrifying red.

The voice chanted even louder, even quicker than before.

"ComebackComebackComebackComebackComeback!"

Out of the reddened page came a blood-soaked hand, fingers twisted and gnarled. Before I even had a second to react with a scream, the hand bolted up and cupped my face in its palm. At that moment, my entire world reduced to darkness despite my terrified wide eyes. Even with the terror evident on my face, my emotions seemed muted. However, my hearing was still intact.

"COME BACK!"