I can barely remember a time without them.
from the outside, they look quite unadventurous;
boxes that are tightly shut
stacked on top of each other, piled up on shelves,
catching dust in cupboards.
but when they are opened --
oh, when they are opened the magic all but pours out of them,
fluorescent lights and daring heroines,
sorrow and joy and cleverness beyond imagination.
I have known them for so long, loved them so fiercely
that the stories, the worlds have become intertwined with mine.
when the darkness closes in and the voices wear me down
that is where I go. I follow the spell they hold over me
and let the tendrils of excitement draw me in completely;
because they are home
when I need shelter from the storm.