Just a little writing piece

I just finished this writing piece. (I'm not quite sure if it's a short story or a poem.) I thought it might be cool to share with you all. Enjoy and let me know what you think. Any questions, tips, comments? Have you written anything?

An Old Book

There is an old book where if it could talk, it would tell about every pair of hands ever laid on it.

It would talk about the hands of passionate storytellers that believed in the power of words, the power of a story, and the importance of reading.

One might start as far back as telling of the time before its birth.

A young man grew up with a family that had valued imagination and how it could affect a story.

The young man wanted his children and his children’s children to adopt those tales and add on to the story. So, he bought a blank journal, found a pen, and started writing everything he could remember.

The man grew old and knew his time to leave was coming soon. So, he called his children around his bedside and gave them the book of stories.

With an old, frail hand resting on top of the book, he made all of them promise to keep adding to the stories. Then he breathed his last.

They read the stories and clung onto every word, every detail, letting every line evoke vivid pictures and scenes.

Each one took their favorite story and added to it, weaving in the new to the old.

When the last living descendent laid on her deathbed, she passed on the book to her only child who promised to keep up the family tradition.

Every person in that family added to their favorite stories; not forgetting to teach their children about stories and the importance and power of reading.

Each one cherished the stories and promised to make the stories their own. Until one day, the book’s cover started to fall off and the pages started to yellow and fall out.

The book with all of its stories and fading ink, was wrapped up and placed in a chest in the attic.

Over the years, the stories were slowly forgotten. Until one day, a young woman and her husband found the chest and its contents that belonged to the woman’s family.

She took the book out, restored it and read it. As she read it, her grandmother’s words echoed in her head saying,

“There’s an old book that I remember that was full of stories that generations before me started. If this old book could talk, it would tell about every pair of hands ever laid on it. It would talk about the hands of passionate storytellers that believed in the power of words, the power of a story, and the importance of reading.”

The young woman smiled and over time, she took all the individual stories and intertwined them into one.

Leaving just enough for her future child to add on to it.