Even today, I feel proud of myself because I am a storybook written by a well-known author. My title is The Secret of the Lost Necklace. The story printed on my pages is an exciting tale of theft and trickery in a small town and how a group of children solve the mystery.

When I was first published, I looked bright, colourful and brand new. Along with many other books, I was packed in a box and sent to a book distributor. From there, I reached a popular bookstore in the city. The shopkeeper displayed me on a shelf near the entrance with other storybooks. Many children who visited the store would stop to look at me and discuss me with their parents and friends.

One day, a young girl bought me and took me home. She was eager to read me and finished the story in just a few days. She enjoyed every page until the thrilling ending. After that, she placed me on her bookshelf with her other favourite books. Soon, she began lending me to her friends.

That was the beginning of my troubles. As I passed from one child to another, not everyone treated me with care. Some children read me while eating snacks and stained my pages. Others folded my corners or left me lying around carelessly. Once, I was even dropped in the rain. Slowly, my pages faded, my cover became worn out and I looked old and damaged. Eventually, I found myself in the house of a boy who pushed me into a corner of his cupboard. There I remained, forgotten for many months.

One day, his mother cleaned the cupboard and threw me out with a pile of unwanted papers. Now I lie in a heap of rubbish, waiting for my final end. Yet I have no regrets. I am happy that during my lifetime I brought enjoyment, excitement and countless hours of reading pleasure to many children.