Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Inanimate Perspective

Along the many years I have been here no one has taken much note of me. Occasionally they may glance my way. Once or twice someone may wipe my face and dust my head. Yet ever since that fateful day she brought me here, no one has cared.

They are looking at me again today, I wonder why. They are almost teasing me when they glance my way. what is it? Do I have something on my face? Their stares are scaring me. I dislike being forgotten, yet those eyes, they have not looked at me like that for years. Maybe, just maybe they will take me down from here again.

Maybe that new one will learn what is beneath this thick hide. Maybe, they will hold me, and share me again. Maybe they will light the fire and get lost within my many words of wisdom.

Here they come, they are reaching…. Reaching…. She is taking me down again. I remember her hands, although they are softer now, and her touch is light. She takes me and settles into her old chair, and the new little one crawls up next to her. Carefully she breaks the seal that has bound me all these years, and lets loose an old world to a new generation.

Her touch is soft, and gentle, and the little one is now rapt in fantasy. Her eyes have read my pages countless times yet she too still gets lost in my pages. The little one has dozed off to sleep now, and soon so will my old friend.

Tomorrow when they awake I will be set back atop the shelf, but for tonight I will enjoy lying between them, lost in my own sweet fantasy.

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