I grew up poor. Growing up poor can shape things about your personality that many people don't consider. Though I was a voracious reader from an earlier age, my house was not filled with books because they were about as practical as that overpriced toy all the kids were crying for. Food, electricity, water and basic necessities were hard to come by so books were not something in the budget.

Libraries were an absolute saving grace for a child who loved to read. School libraries and our public one. I'm a big believer in supporting ANY organization or cause that will help get a book into the hands of a child. My absolute FAVORITE presents of all time were two boxes of those condensed classics for kids. They were little square paperbacks with a few black and white illustrations inside. I nearly wept when I got them because they were MINE. I OWNED THOSE BOOKS.

Now, of course, I have 3 overflowing bookshelves and a massive Kindle log. Why am I rambling about this? Because when I read on some list site about a child who received a dollar to buy books, I felt a little hiccup in my heart. I had to write a story about such a scenario.

I will be the first to admit that the ending wasn't planned. I can't predict how my brain will work when I'm writing a story. Hope you still enjoy it!

I haven't given you a story in some time and I need to recitify that. While I'm typing away on the next piece, I decided to share my ancient foray into telling a children's story. I always wanted some poor soul to illustrate this but never had the nerve to ask!

While the story is suitable for children, let's just say I am weird. I do not apologize for this.