I enjoyed reading when i was eight. I just did not like being told what to read. I remember my father coming into my room one day and tossing a book at my face as I sat reading one of the many Hardy Boys books I had collected. "Try this, you'll like it." he said to me on his way out of the room. "Oh, and I'll be checking to see if you read it, so you better." he added. I didn't know who this Ray Bradbury was and I was certainly not interested in anything called the Martian Chronicles. Martians, who cares about martians? For days I slid my bookmark farther and farther into the book, never reading one bit, knowing my dad was checking to see if I had been. Then, one day, for some reason, I read one of the stories. It was simply amazing. I slid my bookmark all the way back to the beginning, starting from the first page, not stopping until I reached the last. I am 26 now. I have read and re-read so many of his books and stories, loving every one of them. To think, I almost cheated myself out of this world.
Posts: 1 | Location: Norfolk, VA | Registered: 08 July 2008
