Read Me A Story
I am peering over the edge of the table at the pile of books he has left there. Some of them are old, darkened by age. Their corners are battered, dropped by small hands onto hard, unknown floors. Others are brightly coloured, grinning creatures staring back at me from their covers. I stand on my tippy-toes, barefoot, eyes widening. I can smell the deep, waxy mustiness of the ageing pages. I reach out a small, sticky hand towards them. He lifts me onto his knee, takes a book in his hands. Are we sitting comfortably? Then he will begin.
CP
Rebecca L. Brown lives in Cardiff, South Wales, with her partner and assorted menagerie. Updates and examples of Rebecca’s work can be found on her Twitter page @rlbrownwriter and at http://bewilderingcircumstances.blogspot.com/
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