In a land far, far away,
there is a library that sits above the clouds...

I was born with the unique magical ability to be teleported to other worlds by reading. You could probably imagine my mother's distress when child-me vanished on more than one occasion. I, of course, would return home, as a book is magically rewritten upon entering its universe to reflect my own story.

Even so, my mother did not approve. She possessed an unusual sense of smell that assisted her in finding (and burning) every book I snuck into the house. Whenever we passed a library or a bookshop, she shielded my eyes and hurried me along as if it were a store for naughty adults.

Needless to say, I was not a happy child, and the next book I managed to get my little hands on was my last read in that world. I haven't returned since, and I am too many universes away to do so, even if I wanted to (and I most certainly do not—sorry, Mom).

Having visited a multitude of worlds, I have assumed various identities with the help of science as well as magic. I have achieved and failed and loved and lost countless times. I also learned to craft my own universe, which now holds a massive, ever-expanding library that I can call "home."

(No, I can't actually travel to other worlds in books, but I'm sure you already knew that. This is just a fun exercise that combines book reviewing and creative writing. It's also spoiler-free!)

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