For the Life of Literature
By Naomi contentment
Published on 12/15/2010
The deathly body of the book, Revived only by the calming light of words.


The Paper is blank and cold. To cold for words. Words that will not escape for fear of freezing to death. But as these words look on at the black pages of that book, they notice that the paper is crying for words. It's crying for warmth and life; it wants to be animated, to come alive. But the boxed in pages of the blank book cannot give a welcoming emotion to the words. The harsh black snow is encompassing it.
The words, each letter standing together, look on at the pages realizing where the cold is coming from. They leap, diving into the frightening atmosphere of the pages. Instantly embracing the cold exterior of the paper, page by page. The book is alive and warm again.

The reader, looking on in amazment, cannot comprehend what they've witnessed. So, they read on and continue to watch as the words and pages transform, magically into a book worth reading. Now everyone is united, and synchronized. However, unconciously, without notice, the reader is encompassed in a world unlike any other.