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Welcome to CHB!
Camp Half Blood is the sister site of Camp Jupiter.
Posts : 4752 Join date : 2010-07-10 Age : 30 Location : in zans belly huhuh
Subject: A Book of Pictures Sun Jul 08, 2012 2:22 am
A Book of Pictures
Written by Angel----------
It’s amazing how life can be changed by something so insignificant. Some people talk about love, friendship, and family in these kind of stories. They talk about how they learned some cliche lesson from the love of their life that they met when they were ten. Somehow those stories always seem to become movies on the Hallmark channel. Either that or they’re a Nicholas Sparks novel. This is not one of those stories. If you take a lesson out of this, well then you’re searching because there isn’t supposed to be one. No wait! I have a lesson. If your gut tells you not to be curious and pull out a stupid, unlabeled book, follow it. Yes that’s right. A book changed my life. I’m not talking about the Bible, or some self help book that tells me I’m worth it. No, this isn’t a normal book. Whether it changed my life for the better or not, I have no idea. Either way, if you find a book like this, I would put it back on the shelf.
It was a normal Friday night. I, and my best friend the library, had a hot evening of reading planned. I had my backpack, equip with my “Reading is Cool” button, and was ready to party hard. I didn’t have high expectations for that evening. Find a book, read it, doze in the comfy lounge chairs, head home before 9:00pm. Simple, boring, my life. “Hey mom! I’m headed to the library!” I called as I donned my worn out sneakers. Fashion had never been my strong suit. An “outfit” for me consisted of a baggy t-shirt, witty phrase optional, and boot cut jeans. My mother, who was still clinging to her youth with her layers of make-up, red skinny jeans, and skin tight blouse, looked over at me. “I’m sorry what’d you say?” she asked with a dazed expression and dilated pupils. Ah, my mother, a woman addicted to late night talk shows and Say Yes To The Dress. She’d managed to pull her attention away to look at me. This either meant that it was a commercial or... Nope, it was definitely a commercial. “I said I’m going to the library” She groaned. “Emma, it’s Friday night! Why don’t you go to a party or something?” “Well, considering I don’t have friends and wasn’t invited to a party, I’d say that the library is the best option.” Why was it so hard for her to understand? I wasn’t a cheerleader, I didn’t have an all-star boyfriend. I had books, and my witty intellect. ...But mostly books. “Sweetie, you’re gonna die alone if you stay on this path.” Her tone was sympathetic, and yet I was still offended. An eye roll was my only response. I could hear her calling behind me on my way out of the door. Something about “embracing my assets.” If by assets she meant flashing my cleavage in the faces of adolescent males, I didn’t have any intention of following her suggestions. Perhaps if I had stayed home that night my life wouldn’t be as crazy as it is now. It’s one of those “What if” sort of scenarios. You know there’s no point dwelling on them, but with a wandering mind and fast typing fingers, you can’t help but consider them. Would I go back in time if I could? ...Eh.
Last edited by Angel on Mon Jul 09, 2012 12:55 am; edited 1 time in total
Zan Mega Asshole Duo
Posts : 10035 Join date : 2010-05-04 Age : 27 Location : butthole PA
Subject: Re: A Book of Pictures Sun Jul 08, 2012 8:48 pm
Can I just say that I reblogged that picture and inspired Angel. :'D
Angel The Puppet Master
Posts : 4752 Join date : 2010-07-10 Age : 30 Location : in zans belly huhuh
Subject: Re: A Book of Pictures Mon Jul 09, 2012 9:43 pm
A Book of Pictures
Written by Angel----------
The walk to the library was uneventful, as was most of the evening there. I was just finishing up a small book on some guy’s opinions on the Civil War. To me it sounded more like a speech Miss America would give. “I just want world peace and no fighting and puppies.” Okay, the part about puppies I made up, but the whole thing was basically about how he didn’t want there to be anymore fighting. It’s commendable, don’t get me wrong. In all honesty, though, humans will never be able to not fight. I looked at my neon green, rubber watch, which my mother detested, to see that it was 8:30pm. I had enough time for another small book before they kicked me out. I scanned the shelves of books, catching various titles as I went. Most of the books were too thick to read in a short period of time, and I had no intention of checking a book out tonight. It was then that my eyes landed on something peculiar. It was a thin book, with a pale blue, canvas cover. The spine had nothing on it. No title, no author, not even a sticker for identification. I frowned, finding this to be very strange. If there was one thing I knew about Margie, the maid librarian, it was that she never left any book unlabeled. I reached for the book, but suddenly, something stopped me. Something in my gut was telling me to just ignore it and move on. Of all times not to listen to my gut, this was by far the worst, though I didn’t know it at the time. I plucked the book from the shelf. It was thin and worn out, but the binding still seemed to be in good shape. I opened the book, to find something even weirder. This should have been my cue to put the book back, but my curiosity got the better of me. Damn it. The book had no words. Each page, when opened, had a picture. Simply a picture of scenery stretched across each open page, nothing more. There were about 150 or so pages like this. I squinted at one scene in particular. It was a field of green grass. It had white flowers and a line of trees in the back. I could almost smell the trees, feel the sun on my face, see the tall grass blowing in the- Yes, that grass was definitely swaying. My eyes widened and I shut the book quickly, causing a thud to resonate through the library. “You’re just tired, Emma...That’s all,” I muttered to myself. Taking in a deep breath, I opened the book to that page again. It was still. I let out the breath I was holding and decided to do something about this odd book. I started towards the front desk, but was stopped as a book cart rolled out in front of me. I let out a squeak of surprise, which startled me more than the actual cart. I turned to the cart, expecting to see stout little Margie at the end. Instead I saw an elderly woman. Her hair was white and tied back in a bun. Her skin sagged with age and she had a twinkle in her eye that frightened me. I didn’t recognize her, though I assumed she was just new at the time. “Excuse me, I found this book. It’s not labeled, and it also has no words in it.” The old woman smiled crookedly at me. “Well that’s the point, silly. You have to make your own adventures with that book,” she said, pointed a wrinkled finger at the object of my distress. I frowned. “Well then shouldn’t it be somewhere else? Not in the Non-Fiction section?” Perhaps this woman was simply confused. She shook her head, the same smile still plastered on her face. “Oh no, dearie. That book is meant to be there.” Strange response... I opened up the book, examining it curiously. “Look, I really don’t think that this was catego-” I looked up and she was gone. My mouth hung open in shock. ...What the hell just happened?
Subject: A Book of Pictures 
Sun Jul 08, 2012 2:22 am
