In Which the Adventure Begins
avon, a rather small snail, read a book every day. He loved to read because books told him all about the things that creatures did when they went on adventures.
Now, Avon had noticed that when creatures finished their adventures, and when the stories ended, the creatures were always happy. Because Avon had never had an adventure of his own, the more he read, the sadder he became. It was absolutely necessary, he decided, to have adventures for himself. Only then would he be happy.
He sighed. “No adventures will ever come my way.”
A newt who was passing by overheard Avon’s words. “Nay, lad, don’t say such things.”
“But don’t you see,” said Avon, close to tears, “the most important thing in the world is having adventures. Not only have I not had any, I don’t think I ever will. And if I don’t have adventures—like the ones I’ve read about in these books—I’m bound to be unhappy forever.”
“Then go out and seek some adventures,” said the newt.
“I don’t know how,” Avon said.
“Remember, lad,” said the newt, “if it’s going to be tomorrow, it might as well be today. And if it is today, it could have been yesterday. If it was yesterday, then you’re over and done with it, and can write your own book. Think about that.”
Avon thought about it for a long moment, and then he said right out loud,
“Yes, I will do it. Yesterday for sure!”
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