A Bolt of Lightning Every Day

While putting my daughter to bed she told me that she wanted to do “storytime” which is when we take turns making up stories to tell each other before bed. So I said “ok, I’ll go first.” I made up some on the fly story about a man who finds a magic book and discovers that everything written in this book will come true. Naturally, he writes that he wants a bigger car, a bigger house, and he wants his farts not to stink. And he goes on living this blissful life with a big car, big house, and scentless farts.

After a while, someone breaks into his house and steals his magic book. His house and car change back into small, rinky-dink aspects of his life and his farts stink again. Not an abnormal stink, just the regular fart stink but a stink nonetheless. Which is how my story ended. My daughter pondered this for a few moments before she began her story.

Her story begins quite like mine, man finds a magic book, whatever he writes appears, he asks for what my character asked for, book gets stolen but then, the most peculiar thing happened; she switched perspectives. Her story was about the book.

The book did not like the man who kidnapped him so he placed a spell on him that killed him slowly. Once the man was dead the book brought him back to life as a zombie making him a mindless undead servant, his first request being to be brought back to his original master.

Most of the zombie's tasks were to bring presents and little treats to another book down the street that the magic book had a crush on. You see, there existed a young forbidden love between the two books which was forbidden due to bad blood between the two families who owned the magic books. However, the zombie traveled late at night when both parties were sleeping.

This continued for some time until one day the zombie was discovered by the lady book’s family. They stormed down the street to the man’s house and began throwing rocks at his windows until a bitter fight ensued resulting in the man being brutally beaten and the relationship between the two books came to an end.

This upset the magic book and in a fit of rage he cursed the zombie to be struck by a bolt of lightning every day. However, the first bolt of the curse was so strong that it blew the zombie into one million pieces. Thus ensuring the final death of the undead.

At this, the book began to cry and slunk into a pit of sorrow so narrow that it consumed his powers and left him as only a spine, a cover, and blank pages. This concluded her story.

I told her goodnight and walked toward the door. As I turned the light switch off I told her we were going to have pancakes for breakfast the next day. She was overjoyed. As most five-year-olds would be.