Cem (dʒem) in old Turkish means: he who pens dark tales by the light of candles made from the render...
I love the written word and believe that fiction holds a certain truth. And I’m just pompous enough ...
I’m a guardian of the forest, well, I will be, and I was practicing.
She stared at him incredulously. “Trees can’t own anything. They’re trees.”
I like the way she learns the "rules" of her new world.
She didn’t stare, that wasn’t polite, so she turned her attention to Sammy and stuck her fingers between her lips and whistled for him.
The sun was well overhead, which meant it was lunch time.
I love this, so reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland.
She was alone. Abbie was often alone (if you don’t count her parents), but she didn’t mind. She had friends among the other kids in the neighborhood, but she tended toward flights of fancy, playing with her dog, and scribbling stories in a battered notebook in her large, childish handwriting.
