I ran. Through the chilling, dense forest. I ran. Away from everything. The stress, the discipline, the harsh words of a neighbor. I ran. With my soft grey winter coat, my straight, dark brown hair with a reddened hue rising and falling off my neck, I ran. Why was I even running? By now I've forgotten, and my throat has become dry and hoarse. The sound of my mother far off yelling filled my ears. I ran on. My head pounds, a headache brewing in my brain. I ran.
Emmersyn Koren. No, no more. Emmersyn Koren was gone. No more of Emmersyn Koren. Abruptly, as if not of my control, I stop. I heave, and look around at what seems to be deeper in the forest behind my house than I've ever been before. The trees create a canopy above me, blocking what sun is still shining through the thick Winter-caused clouds. It's getting harder to see, and despite my wishes, I...
The Land of Stories will not only be the single best book you have ever read, it will transport you. All of the outcasts out there, the forgotten, the overlooked, the flawed, the losers, the nothings. All of those who wish to escape, this book will allow you to do just that. To a place where you will belong, will be loved, where you can escape to whenever you would like.
Actually, that's not quite this story.
Yes, the Land of Stories does take you off on the magical adventure of a lifetime, but not quite in the way you might have expected. Brother and sister twins, Conner and Alex Bailey grew up listening to and reading about the many amazing fairy tale stories. Alex has also grown with this love of fairy tales to love all books. She is viewed as an outcast, with not a single friend. As I read through this book, I found myself relating with Alex. She, as...
1. My imagination takes me to extraordinary places, how could I not write about them?
2. Every single one of my numerous ideas deserves a home!
3. To create something that has never existed before.
4. Writing is one of the few things that can help me cope and keep me sane.
5. It is my passion.
6. If I didn't write, I don't know what I'd do with my life.
7. I can go to places I've never been to before.
8. I can experience things I'll never experience in real life.
9. So I can be the people I will never be and meet people I will never see.
10. It expresses who I am inside.
11. I want to inspire people through written, beautiful words.
12. WHY NOT?
We called it Capricho, it was our very own place. Our place of make-believe, of fantasy and fun. No rules, no stress or adults and consequences. Micah and I did anything we could think up: we battled enemy kingdoms (with no losses I might add), played with the fairies and goblins of the Capricho's surrounding forests, and wonderfully ruled over our subjects as King and Queen of Capricho. In Capricho, there were no limits to our imagination! To us, everything that happened in Capricho was real, and even when we weren't in our wonderland-like kingdom, we rarely came down from the clouds. But this was sure to yank any whimsical feelings left inside me away forever. Everything was going to be different. This is the story of Capricho, the story of my best friend, Micah Perry, and me, Annabeth Richland.
What happens to the dreams we dream? The ideas we forget, the invisible people we thought up and called our friends? Should they not have a place to stay as well, once we discard them, once we ignore them, once we... forget. They do have a place, though, a place named Zobeide. That is where they all stay. The city is invisible, never to be touched, to be seen, to be smelled, or heard. It might be nice to visit it once in a while, to revisit our forgotten dreams, to catch up with our discarded, once very close, imaginary friends that to us were real. It might be nice to see again the ideas we ignored, the ideas we thought of as dumb, as stupid, the ideas that in our minds could never work. But we can't. Once they reach Zobeide, they can never return, and we will never see them again. So don't let them leave, don't allow them...
Be the best. Be the favorite, the smartest. My parents told me what to do, who to be, and that was, well, 'The Best'. But I wasn't the best, not even close. I would never be the favorite, nor the smartest at anything. The only thing I was good at? Being, and doing what made me happy, what filled me with joy!