The Little Library

In the heart of a quiet town stood a tiny wooden structure, no larger than a birdhouse. It was the Little Library, a place where people left books for others to borrow. No librarian, no fees—just a community of readers sharing stories.

Ten-year-old Lily visited every evening, running her fingers over the well-worn covers, inhaling the scent of old pages. One day, she found a mysterious leather-bound book with no title. Inside, the pages were blank, except for one line:

"Write your own story, and the library will tell you its secret."

Intrigued, Lily wrote about her adventures in the park, the stray cat she fed, and her dreams of being a writer. The next morning, she returned to the library and found a new entry in the book—not in her handwriting.

"Keep writing, Lily. The magic is just beginning."

From that day on, the Little Library was no longer just a place for borrowing books—it was where Lily discovered the magic of storytelling, where words turned into dreams, and where a simple wooden box held endless possibilities.