The
Curiosity Chronicles
The
Gallery of the Obscure
You will need to prepare for a
story like this. Stories like this one
should be read at night, long past your bedtime, preferably during a
thunderstorm and by the light of a candle.
But if your parents are the overprotective type a flashlight will
do.
If you look around the room you are
in right now and think about it you are probably warm. You’ve probably had a delicious supper and
possibly dessert. And very likely as you
begin this story and huddle beneath your blankets you are in your own room and you
pulled this very book from your own bookshelf.
You likely have a parent or two somewhere in your house possibly making
your lunch for tomorrow or folding your clothes. Perhaps they even tucked you into bed and kissed
you goodnight. Now close your eyes for a
moment and imagine that it was all gone.
Imagine that all you owned fit in the knapsack that is lounging on the
chair in the corner and that your parents aren’t there at all but traipsing
through the jungles of Costa Rica or climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro simply because
they liked the sound of the word. And
now imagine that they had forgotten you completely. If you can picture all of this then you might
be able to imagine what life was like for the Cornell children and how much
they longed for what you have right now.
Pity I wouldn’t give it to them.
I couldn’t could I? Who would
want to read a story about 3 children who had everything they could have wanted
and dressed in lovely clothes and had holidays at the beach with their equally
lovely parents? No one. Not a soul.
And so the story I am about to tell you is about 3 children whose
parents didn’t want them at all. In fact
they hadn’t seen their parents in so long that they had forgotten what they
looked like. Almost. Maybe I should rephrase that. They tried very hard to forget what their
parents looked like because sometimes it is less painful to forget a thing than
to remember it.
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