So I've been filling up my virtual library on Shelfari for the past hour or so [See bookshelf on left or click here]. Yes I am THAT idle. But that's not the point of this post.
This is about what's swimming around in my mind. An experience that has somehow floated to the top of my subconscious as a result of me digging up memories of books past.
Here's the story:
When I was in high school I met a boy, as is often the case. He was 3 years older than me but somehow we ended up friends. At least what developed between us was the kind of friendship that you could have never anticipated.
I was always at school until late. Even though school ended for me at 1:50 pm everyday I would end up milling around until 6 or 7 pm when my mother finally made it through the evening traffic to pick me up from school.
These free 5 hours left me wide open to get into all sorts of mischief, which I eventually did. However in my earlier years I would simply sit on a bench at the front of school and read a book until my mother's white Daihatsu would appear. These moments were like an escape for me. I would open a book and suddenly I wasn't at school any more. I was transported to an alternate world, delved deep within the pages of some random novel.
Cue the boy. Here I am sitting on a bench reading some random book and he appears out of nowhere, bag slung cross his shoulder, large brown eyes and a magnetic demeanour. At such a tender age I am intrigued by his confidence yet still I feign aloofness.
He sits down beside me and asks me what I'm reading. At first I am annoyed by this sudden interruption. I hate having to stop reading in the middle of a paragraph better yet a chapter. It always seems to ruin the flow of the narrative. Eventually I look up and respond. He begins to tell me that he's been watching me for some time; everyday, sitting and reading in the same place and he wanted to know what was so interesting about my book and what kinds of books I liked.
Taken aback by his seemingly genuine interest in me and my book, we began talking about the kinds of books we like. Soon I found myself looking forward to going to my special reading bench where he and I would sit and talk until my mother came for me. He even loaned me a book that he thought I would enjoy. It never bothered me that he was older than me because our conversations enriched my soul.
But that's not the point of this post. This story was merely the background. Nothing actually happened between me and mystery boy because our age difference finally became an obstacle that would grind our relationship to a halt. Not to mention the fact that someone suddenly decided he was attractive, which propelled him to the centre of a swooning tornado I did not want to be swept up into.
That being said though, that book has been swimming around my mind all day. Not just because it reminds me of him and the feelings which were put out to pasture, but because for the life of me I cannot remember the name of the damn book!!
I can remember what it looks like, the torn cover, even the story-line. But I can't seem to put my finger on the exact title. For some reason Prophecy keeps coming to me, but I can't find it on Google. And everyone knows that EVERYTHING is on Google.
So here I am, wracking my brain trying to remember the name of this book about a random forest somewhere that is breeding mutant animals because of a nuclear spill at a paper company.
arghhhhhhh! This is so annoying!!!! But I'm almost POSITIVE the name of the book is Prophecy. I just need to find proof. I guess it wasn't all that popular. Which leads me back to thinking if there was a subliminal reason he wanted me to read it.
hates unresolved issues.