I, personally had never been quite sure if Dante truly existed. It would be rather difficult to prove the existence of fictitious characters, when their remnants had long since passed. I glanced back out the window, watching the wheat flop around wildly in the breeze, reminding me oh so subtly that I would need to cut the grass.
Why someone hadn’t created a laser grid system to cut grass automatically was way beyond my comprehension. That was another aspect of Dante’s story that seemed entirely fabricated. For as much time that had gone by, no other examples of such adventures had ever been made apparent to the public. No one had found the Forbidden Library and absolutely no contact had ever been made with the actual lab where Vlad/Val/Maliki had created his serum. Nor had said serum been recreated. If such fantastical adventures had been had, how come they hadn’t happened again? Wasn’t history bound to repeat itself, or some similar sounding nonsense?
I lifted the book off of my nightstand and chucked it into the trash bin next to my bed. I no longer had any need for a children’s book. I stood, crossing my arms in defiance, and took one last longing glance at the book. It didn’t truly matter whether it had happened or not, and I left the room and the topic on that note.
I scampered down the hall and burst out the front door into the amazing bright light. The sun was warm on my face, the breeze flicked my hair around. As if saying, “Kylee, you don’t have to worry about the past, just enjoy the beautiful day. The amazing beautiful day. The wonderful beautiful day. The warmth of the amazing day.” I didn’t really imagine wind having a strong vocabulary.
No comments:
Post a Comment