Light
All his life, Merlon had seen the grey book on display on a pedestal. In his six years of existence in Flipside, his parents had never touched the Light Prognosticus.
He'd never pester them about it, but that day he Merlon was just so curious. "Mommy, why is that book so special?" he asked his mother one day.
She put down the cross stitch she was working on, and she took his small hand. "It's an opposite from a bad book, the Dark Prognosticus. Can you say 'Prognosticus'?"
"Porg-mos-tick-bus?" he tried saying.
His mother laughed and said after a few clumsy mispronunciations, "You'll learn to say it when you're older." She picked up the dusty volume, leaving finger prints where she touched it. "Can you read well?"
Merlon nodded, smiling. "My teacher said I can read the best in the class!"
His mother grinned at her son and handed him the book. Being used to the weight of the picture books at school, he struggled to hold it.
"This isn't the light Frog-noth-pick-tuss! This is the heavy one!"