My eyes rapidly follow the lines. They move side-to-side with greater speed as I brace myself for the upcoming fright.
I am in the best reading position. My legs stretch out and my back is leaning on the beige sofa, giving me the perfect amount of back support. The midday sunlight enters the windows all over my living room to provide me the perfect light environment. My miniature Dachshund lies on her pink-wool blanket, bathing in the warm sunlight on the arm of the sofa. I’ve been reading Agatha’s Christie And Then There Were None for the last couple of days (I’m a slow reader). I thought I would just breeze through her notorious mystery murder novel, but boy was I wrong… All of the characters are gathered, as they are frantically trying to find out which among them has been killing the group of guests each night, one-by-one. As my eyes dash through the lines, the tension rises within the novel. All of the characters are panicking, pointing fingers at each other, completely oblivious who the sinister mastermind of the operation is. Chills flowing down my spine like a relentless waterfall, I stand up from the sofa and bolt to the master bedroom where my mom is watching a K-drama (Korean drama). I sprint with all my might because I can’t handle the anticipation, the spook. You see, I have never watched a single horror movie in my life. The best I could do was The Conjuring because my friends forced me to; I ended up hiding behind my guardian pillow literally for every single second of the film that wasn’t occurring in broad daylight. I am maneuvering through the halls of my house, my book tightly pinching the spine of the book from the rear, my eyes still following the lines. I am scared out of my mind, and yet, I am still captivated about what will happen next. I jump onto the master bedroom bed where my mom is watching something on her portable DVD player (back when DVDs were still mainstream). I lie and finish the terrifying scene with the safe presence of my mom next to me where I am able to finish the scene.
This nostalgic memory was my first memory I was so hooked into the narrative of a novel. As scared as I was reading the building tension and the discomforting ambiance within the book, my eyes were still locked on the text. This memory is special because I was never really into reading before that one Spring in 7th grade. Throughout elementary school and middle school, I was never an avid reader. I have memories of when I was living in Kansas at the time, and my mom would always take me to Barnes & Noble, purchase me 3-5 books, and just shove me in the library every school break to get me to intake the beautiful benefits of reading. Regrettably, I spent those 4-ish hours in the public library just passing the time. I would still read a little bit but end getting tired and just sleeping through the rest of that duration. I had a short attention span, and still do, when it comes to reading. Unless it’s a book as captivating as And Then There Were None, I wouldn’t expect myself to read more than 80 pages a day, even if I fully forced myself to the bone. And even on those days, I would grow so mentally tired from reading, that I would have to nap for the remainder of the day. I think that experience gave a little spark in me to have a little more affection for books, because never had I been more interested to flip another page than that moment. I started to enjoy reading a little more, especially when it came to topics I liked, such as murder mysteries. I think, overall, I gained a little more appreciation for reading.
Typical trip to the library