Archive for 6/1/10

Dust by Arthur Slade

               Very Creepy. That's the first thing to say. I will make this one short, too.
               It's in a town of Saskatchewan, during the Great Depression. There's lots of droughts.
               First thing, Matthew is gone. Well, most think he's kidnapped. He is. In a way. But short after, many others are, too.
               Abram Harisch comes and shows them a huge mirror, which he claims is from Egypt, and shows what you truly want. Of course, since most people at the presentation and in his town are farmers, they see water pouring onto their crops, or rain. He seems to be mesmerizing people, and only Robert seems to be resisting the spell.
               It does -it somehow mesmerizes them. The adults don't seem to realize that their children are missing. Even Robert, Matthew's older brother, can't get his parents to realize that everything was not okay and that it wouldn't be fine after Mr. Harisch's big rain-machine-thing. Mr. Harisch had planned out an enormous building thing that makes rain come, and many farmers had signed up to help build it.
               Only Robert's uncle didn't. He had known something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And it wasn't rain, it was some magical something. When the rain came, it only came on those who signed up for the building got the rain.
               On top of that, Robert had seen something very queer in the mirror. He had seen a man. That man was his uncle. The other uncle. His mother's other brother, other than the one alive (that didn't sign up for the rain making thing) was a soldier and died as a soldier on the battlefield, to what I remember. Why he was on the mirror screen, who knows, but it seemed to be gasping a word, seeming to be his last words. He was pointing at Mr. Harisch, saying "evil... evil..."
               Soon afterwards, Mr. Harisch comes to school to present a huge butterfly. It has mysterious, magical powers, in which it attracts children.The kids in his class are staring at it, wanting to be able to look at it forever. After that, more children disappear, causing no worries. All the adults don't seem to notice. They are all mesmerized, not even realizing that they even had a child. Even Robert, every night, dreams of that same blue beautiful butterfly, beckoning for him to come, to follow the butterfly, to be able to watch it forever. He nearly sleep-walks out of his own house (to what I remember), but realizes that it is only a dream and thinks it must not be real and goes back into his house.

               Soon, he learns that all the children are made into dust and put into the shape of a butterfly. The big blue butterfly, where it came from, he doesn't know, but it does attract a many lot of children. He must save his brother and everyone who has been trapped, gone, put into the shape of a butterfly. He realizes that since he is eleven, he is on the verge of a man and a child. Right on the border, between belief and fantasy AND reality and business. Meaning he cannot be fully mesmerized into believing Mr. Harisch's words that he has never been young (and follow him into caption), or be fully mesmerized that Mr. Harisch has made an invention to make rain come.
               For one thing, he is old enough to know everyone has a childhood (though he does slightly believe Mr. Harisch, but never says so). And he is young, so he is not interested in business of making "his farm" prosper. He is right on the border. His age saves him from being mesmerized, and it is, well, his destiny to save his town from falling into Mr. Harisch's hands.
               He saves the kids and the town by sneaking into Mr. Harisch's house, full of mysteries and queer things. He finds....

I choose to stop here. You know, I realized maybe I should leave out the ending. Yes, so some people out there don't have their endings-of-stories ruined. You'll see. And if you're dying to find out, ask your parents if they can go to the library, or the nearest bookstore! (Barnes And Noble)


The author is very clever. How he even came up with this story -he is an imaginative genius. Of course, most fantasy-fiction writers are imaginative geniuses. The small part of your brain that comes up with the antonym of reality.
It creeped me out, in the mirror part. And the worst thing is, when I read, I read in the night (bad habit, I know...), so I have a bit of a hard time falling asleep.
I am on the verge of an adult and a child, too, I realize. I'm eleven. I wonder if I were in his place, if I'd ever think of saving the people of my town. I'd be too scared. Maybe I'd even think it was a dream.
But it would be really fun to have an adventure. I'd pick a book, replace a character with myself, and BAM! I'd be transported into a life of adventure. How much fun it would be.

...
Maybe not.
Consider this.
               Most of the adventure stories, when you think of it, they're scared. But they go and do whatever they do anyway. Maybe I don't want to be in place of that character. As my teacher (I forget who, but I know he/she was a teacher) said, humans are attracted to tragedies. If there's a car accident, most kids would say, "Mom, can you move closer? Lemme see! Hey! Bob! Move over! Who's that? Are they dead? Will CNN come?" Most big news on TV people get excited about are tragedies. (Haiti, Oil Spill, etc.) When you hear your brother watch a scary movie in the next room and you hear screaming and roaring, you would usually run into his room to see the exciting part of the movie.
So, when you read a book, and the monster Destructonoar is about to kill BillyBobJoe, and he's trembling with the sacred sword in his hand (please note I'm making this up), you get all hyped up and skip about every five words to see if he dies or not. You'd say, whoa, he's so brave, after you read that he's not dead. You'd say, I wish I were in his place, riding the huge magical cart across the world, how he went to the battlefield where the sword was made, to get the sword, to fight monsters and win a triumph, and go to the Death Castle, where he finds the Evil King, where BillyBobJoe doesn't shiver a single bit (is he, in his mind, though?) when the King does his evil laugh, how he, BillyBobJoe bravely goes up the stairs to find the most venomous, horrible, hideous, killing, deathly monster, and kills it?. But maybe, just maybe, have you thought, he wouldn't realize what great adventure he was in? Maybe BillyBobJoe's parents' death gave him a shock that all he has in mind is revenge? Have you ever thought, that maybe, he was so worried and scared throughout the whole adventure, he doesn't receive the excitement you get when you're reading, watching from the sidelines?

Maybe being the "bystander" is way more exciting. Have you ever thought that?


But all the same, when would you find yourself in this kind of state? With monsters and all that? Slimmer than the thickness of a paper. (meaning very very very very slim.            ...           If you haven't noticed.)
Keep thinking!
And you never know. You might find yourself facing the most horriblest, hideous, destructive monster yet!

Father's Day Poems!!

When you're here and when you're not.
I love you dad,
I really do.
I'll miss you when you're gone.

And when you're here,
I'll rejoice and say
What a great father you are.

But when you're away,
Back in your office,
I'll remember you're working hard.

So when you come home,
You'll see, yes you will,
How much we love you. <3

--Celine Choo 

PC.

Finally

Well, just to catch up, I will make this entry short. To what I remember, the main character is Rory. Rory Swenson. And she will turn twelve. Or rather, she turned twelve. And a bunch of unlucky things happen.
For one, she accidentally adopted a killer rabbit. By the name of Kyle R. (You'll realize if you say it very quickly a lot of times, you're describing the rabbit.)
Then, her face swells up (from her first try of makeup). Then, her ears swell (or something of that sort), when she tries to get her ears pierced. Then- oh,  I think you had enough. so I'll say, etc.
All when a celebrity decides to film their next movie in their school. Yes, and they would hire some students who "blend in" with the crowd. Of course, after she's hired  (for she gets $20 for every time she comes), all the devastating things happen.
In the middle of the "devastating things," she meets many people who she helps. One is a girl that likes that celebrity, so she has a whole album of photos of her and him together in the same picture. How she makes it -she cuts out the head of the celebrity's girlfriend (who turns out not to be, actually) and replaces it with her own. It accidentally falls open as that celebrity's girlfriend is there. Rory ends up distracting her so the celebrity's girlfriend can't make fun of it or fully register the sight into her brain. Another, when she sees a girl who wants to audition for a ballet school but misses the tryouts by a minute,,, so the stubborn teacher-person doesn't let her tryout... well, smart Rory (learns it from a girl she babysitted), while the teacher-person goes away, stands on the table and turns the clock backwards, about two minutes behind the real time. And when the teacher-person re-enters the room, the girl re-submits for the audition, and this time, she's on time.
But she still lasts to the end. But then there comes the party, the last thing on her list to what she will get when she turns twelve. To be able to go to a boy-girl party.
When she gets there, she sees that its more than she wants. How when she gets there, there's a game. A game, where you dare to kiss someone. Then, she realizes its too much and she'll have to go much slower in growing up...

In the end, she leaves the house and waits at the ballet-girl's house. The girl who Rory helped. But when she enters the house, she sees a big surprise. The whole family is people who she helped! From a boy in her school who she helped find his way to his classroom to the girl who let her album of pictures fall open at the wrong place and the wrong time. She sees her kindness all in one house! (its my favorite part!!)

Well, I'd give it a 10 out of 10. A funny, may-be-inspiring, and understanding life book. I'd suggest anyone of  the age 12 or anywhere near it!!

peaceful nature

Here's a poem. It's a poem I wrote at school and home. Part-part. And how it came to be. First let me tell you. I have the most amazing literacy teacher. She is nice, has patience with us, but at the same time, makes literacy fun. I haven't had this kind of teacher in a long time. And it doesn't happen often. I'm very lucky. Anyway, she has the queerest way of teaching- fun. Usually, teachers give worksheets and whatnot, but we have activities in which we are involved, not the outsider filling in blanks.
Let me tell you a story. A few days ago, actually, I think, the day beforeyesterday, my teacher, Mrs. Burns, told us to go outside. Of course, we followed her instructions, and suddenly, she barked out, "ONE LAP! I WANT ONE FULL LAP RIGHT NOW!" The field was a track-ish place. For track. In the circle-thing of the track, there was a vast, green field. But that one lap was long, and all of us were panting, since it had been, pretty much, a race for who gets to the table first.
Mrs. Burns suddenly told us to sprawl out onto the grass, arms and legs wide apart, as if we were in the middle of making a snow-angel on the grass. She told us to "absorb" nature, to listen to the wind, the chattering of the fourth graders in the other field, to feel, the sun, look at the clouds, feel the grass beneath us. Five lengthy but full minutes passed. And we were told to get up, but suddenly police cars came (I'm not kidding,) saying that they were going to have an evacuation drill... Talk about timing!... ... ... ...
Well, the story goes on interesting, but then it would get off track. 
I'll skip the exciting, off-track part.
Then a day later, we were told to try to write the poem, express the feelings. Some people wrote about the clouds, some people wrote a narrative poem about the exiting something that happened in that day, and some people wrote about the sensation of laying on the grass.
I wrote about the sensation on the grass.
Well, here goes...


Peaceful Nature

Arms sprawled out, legs wide apart.
As time rolls back to when I was five,
I look up, and the sun, blinding me.

I squint into the light,
try yet once again to get a glimpse,
just one small peek of the pale blue,
the pale blue and blank white,
formed to a wondrous state,
yet I fail once again.

The wind, brushing past,
one howling in a deep, low tone,
and the other, high, whistling, but calming.

A chill runs through my skin,
as the wind cools me
and the sun warms me.

Under me, the grass,
prickling like gentle needles,
but yet giving a calming sensation.

Hearing the chatter of the other field,
the excited, tense yells coming from the kids.

But my mind remains blank,
their words do not register into my brain,
and I keep calm in this meaningful, but blank, state.

Smelling the fresh air,
the breeze brushing ever so lightly past my skin,
the sun, giving me a wonderful heat,
the tickling needle grass against my legs,
All this meaning coming from the mere state of...

Arms sprawled out, legs wide apart.
As if I were back in time, back when I was five.
Pointing out each cloud, bunny, dragon, rocket.
Beyond imagination, beyond the sky above.

As if there was no longer problems,
as if the world would now be in peace,
and as if I would lay here, peaceful, calm,
Forever.

Looking at the ground,
feeling the sea of green,
swaying this way and that,
mesmerized by this peaceful, fantastic feeling,
the mere feeling,
of sprawling out on the grass.

--
Celine Choo


I have a something-you-must-consider. FOr one thing, I don't know whether the last stanza should go last, the second-to-last stanza should go last, or whether one of the last two stanzas should just go, as in just deleted. I kept it like this, but I think just stopping at the second to last stanza could be a good ending. But yet, I don't know. I need an audience. 
And this is where you come in. Email me at countdown4books@gmail.com . I'll be open to suggestions!
Hope you liked this poem!!

I love you


I love you
If I were to have a different father,
Oh, I wouldn't even bother!
For the very father I have is the best in the world.
And if I were to tell him something so very true,
I would say,
"I love you!"

--
Celine Choo


haha, if you want to use this poem for whatever reason... ( =) ) you may.

My World


My World
Dragons blasting fire,
wizards casting spells,
talking animals,
frogs coming from wells.

A magical world of wisdom,
the dark place of evil,
wonderful discoveries of treasure,
conquering the devil.

Sounds of trumpeting horns,
celebration with singing swans,
a meeting of the king,
all that's far beyond.

Comfortable, legs criss-crossed,
flipping page by page,
and adventure by adventure.

Each having a significance,
and as I finish one after another,
I wonder.

Where is my magical world of wisdom?

With dragons blazing afire,
flying with the birds?
secret missions floating around?
Me, being in a mystery?

But I stop. I realize.
the place of my magical world
is here, on my bed,
comfortable, legs criss-crossed,
A book upon my hands.

New, and yet to be discovered.
--- Celine Choo

마야 린을 넘어서

마야 린을 넘어서
사랑한국학교,   추연우

나는  건축가가 되고 싶어요. 그냥 건축가도 아니고, 아주 특별한 건축가. 모두가 내 이름을 들으면, ‘아~, 그 유명한 건물을 만든 사람~’ 그러면서 알아채는 그런 건축가.

전에는 제가 건축가라는 단어 조차도 관심이 없었어요. 전혀!  어느날, 우리 문학 선생님께서 우리한테 책을 읽어주셨어요. 처음에는 아무 관심이 없었어요. 어떤 마야린 (Maya Lin) 이라는 유명한 건축가/화가에 대한 전기였어요. 솔직히 말하면, 전기 책들은 재미없고 지루해서 처음에는 아주 바짝 듣지도 않았어요.  하지만, 듣다보니, 마야린이라는 사람이 참 훌륭한 사람이라는  것을 알게 되었어요.  그 중에 ‘Civil Rights Memorial’ 이라는게 저에게 제일 관심이 갔어요. 크고 동~그란, 대리석 테이블 위에 죽은 사람들의 이름이 새겨져 있었어요. 그 이름들 위에는 얇은 막의 물이 있었어요. 오래전에 흑인들의 인권을 위해 싸우다 죽은 사람들을 기리기 위해 만든 것이예요.   저는 그게 아주 기가 막힌 아이디어라고 생각했어요. 뿐만 아니라 아주 큰 감동을 받았어요. 그렇게 건축이라는 걸 알게 되었지요.

하지만, 그 즉시, 갑자기, 건축가가 될꺼라고  정한 것은 아니예요. 처음에는 마야 린 때문에 감동을 받고 너무 신기해서 조금 관심이 간 것 뿐이예요. 하지만, 그것 때문에 문제가 어려워진거예요.  작가가 될 지건축가가 될 지 망설였어요. 전에는 작가가 되고 싶었으니까요.  그런데, 누가 나에게 “너는 어른이 되면 무엇이 되고싶으니?” 하고 물으면 “건축가요, 건축가가 되고싶어요,” 라고 대답했어요.  처음에는 그냥 말을 한 것이었어요. 하지만, 계속 그렇게 말을 하고, 생각하다 보니까, 진짜로 되고 싶어졌어요. 그런 말이 있잖아요, “흉내내다보면  자기의 성격으로 변한다.” 저도 그렇게 된거예요.



저는 이 세상이 균형이 맞지 않는다고 생각해요.   텔레비젼에서 단비라는 한국 프로그램을  봤었어요 . 아프리카에 있는 사람들에게 우물을 만들어 주는 내용이었어요. 마실 깨끗한 물이 없는 사람들에게 물을 마실 수 있게 해주어 기분이 몹시 좋았는데, 아직 무엇이 해결되지 않은 게 있었어요.  집들은 거의 집이라고 말 할 수가 없었어요. 그냥 맨 바닥에, 흙으로  엉성하게 만든 벽을 세우고,   천장은 지푸라기하고 얇은 나무를  붙여서 넣은 것 같았어요.  더 심한 것은 달랑 구덩이 하나뿐인 화장실 이었어요.  저는 그 불쌍한 사람들에게 집을 더 좋게, 더 편하게 만들어 주고 싶어요. 많은 창문과, 제대로 된 마루 , 튼튼한 벽을 만들 꺼예요.  깨끗한 변기가 있는 화장실도 만들어 줄 꺼예요.  먼저 불쌍하고  가난한 사람들을 모두 보통사람들 처럼 살게 하고 싶어요.

마야린은  저에게 건축가의 꿈을 꾸게 해주었어요집이 없거나 살기 불편한 사람들을  위해서 집을 지어주고그렇게 조금씩 이 세상의  균형을  맞출꺼예요.  또한, 멋진 건물을 만드는  최고의 건축가가 될 꺼예요.  하지만, 그 꿈을 어떻게 키우냐에 따라서 그 꿈이 이루어질 수 있고, 아닐 수도 있다는 것을 알아요. 제 꿈에 물을 주고, 햇볕을 쬐어주고, 그리고 포기하지 않으면, 예쁘고 밝은 꽃이 필 꺼라는 믿음이 있어요.
언젠가는 마야린을  넘어서고 싶어요!

"From my best friend,"

I have decided to put my writing on the blog part, too, so I'm just putting it on the blog here, even if you may have read it. (Because I just might delete the page. I have a new idea!)

“From my Best Friend.”
I still remember the horrid “event” that happened about five years ago. “Nice eraser, Celine,” is the phrase that commenced the whole deal. Although it occurred so long ago, it sticks to my memory like a fly on the deceptive flypaper, begging itself to tug harder so it could escape the horrible feeling of “stickyness.”
As I had mentioned, it all started with that one comment. At the age of five, I was in first grade. A few days ago, I had gotten a wonderful new eraser. My best friend, Angela had given it to me. As a gift, I had accepted it gratefully. Wrapped in pink gift wrap, it was the perfect eraser for me. Yes, it was an eraser. Although it doesn’t sound like such a big deal, it was important to me. It was one of those erasers that looked like fat mechanical pencils, but a fat eraser replaced with the lead. That wasn’t it. Adorable picutres of Winnie the Pooh were on it with a pink background. Winnie the Pooh was my all-time favorite bear, and it still is today. Because I loved it so much, I was careful not to use it up too much. Therefore, I only erased with the eraser when there were big mistakes on the paper, in my effort to “save” the eraser.
“I like your eraser, Celine. Where’d you get it?” Brianna repeated.
“From my best friend. She gave it to me,” I whispered. I was a bit shy, as I always was.
“Ooooohhhhh~” she squealed. “Can I see it?”
Reluctantly, I gave it to her, knowing something was up. Being me, Celine, too shy to protest, I didn’t say anything.
Brianna was really very mean. Maybe not that mean, but she was one of those people you have to make sure not to meet and be friends with. Unfortunately, I didn’t really know that, not until it all ended with me the only one in despair. Glancing  over at her, I saw her examine the “marvel” she had discovered. Wearing a blue and white tartan plaid dress with white stockings – our required uniform in our private school, she erased her name on the worksheet to try the eraser out. Brianna’s dirty blond hair was put into a ponytail with the school-uniform-scrunchie. Her hair was a bit tangled.
I knew I coudn’t be friends with her, but I just couldn’t admit it. Not that I was actually best friends with her. We weren’t what you would call friends, but we weren’t what you would call enemies, either. Our relationship was more of an I-know-you-and-you-know-me-and-we’re-nice-to-each-other-but-we-aren’t-really-good-friends type. Simply, we were just “remote” friends, but she acted as we were best friends.
“Can I borrow it?” Brianna asked, climbing up to the “next step.”
“Uhhh... okay...?” I answered. Now, I knew she was getting at something I wouldn’t like but didn’t utter a word.
“Thanks!!” She squealed, snatched it, and started erasing random spots on her worksheet.
Staring at the eraser gloomily, I wondered. Why couldn’t I say, ‘No! Give it back!’  Half of me wanted to walk up to her and take it back. The other half didn’t do anything, just stayed “neutral.”
“It was my eraser, after all, “I had probaby thought. “If I was the owner, I could take it back, right? Or maybe not.”
 Since I was very timid, I didn’t have the courage to walk up to her and take it back. After a while of “erasing,” Brianna took the risk, the next step.
“Umm... can I have it?” She said, almost pleadingly.
Now I understood. All of the talking was just effort to try to take my eraser. This just got me. 15/16  of me said, “NO!” And 1/16 of me said, “Uhh... maybe?”
The look on my worried, reluctant, and the of-course-not,-are-you-kidding-me look was clear to Brianna. Sensing her mission was in danger, she made a “change of plans.”
“Let’s do this – how about I can have it two days, then you can have it one day, then I’ll have it two days, and, you know...” She looked at me expectantly.
Peculiarly, I’m not sure why, maybe it was because as a first grader, I wasn’t so bright, but that sounded like a perfectly good deal to me.
“Okay,” I mumbled. Seeing that there was a huge party of delight on her face, I realized it was the same face that could have been frowning after a short reply of “No” from me. Wearily, I just watched her as she showed off “her eraser” every now and then (actually, every thirty seconds) by erasing empty space on her worksheet for fifteen seconds. Only waving it a little, she made an abundance of people notice it. By the first hour, my eraser would definitely be gone and depleted. Longing for it back, I watched her play around with my eraser.
“Cool eraser! Where’d you get it?” Kenneth asked Brianna. He had noticed my eraser in her hands.
“Oh, from my best friend, she gave it to me...” Brianna announced proudly.
I almost fainted. Wanting to tell Kenneth that it was actually mine, I listened to their three minute long conversation about cool erasers. Brianna wasn’t a complete “devil,” but she wasn’t the greatest friend, either. For some queer reason, I didn’t want to mess with her. If it were today, I definitely would have told Kenneth that it was my eraser, but I don’t remember what I thought then.
During math, she wrote 1+1=2, erased the 2, rewrote it, erased it, and rewrote the 2 again. That went on for each question for the whole fifty minutes of Math.
                I didn’t realize then, but she was almost like a bully. Not the type that punches you and takes your lunch money, but the sly type that always has plans to somehow drag you into misery. As a bossy person, she was the type of person that has to get what she wants, and if things didn’t go her way, she made it.
The fifth day after the deal, and it seems it still belongs to her. There I stood, all I did was stare and hate her. Only once did I ask for it back, which was replied with “Another day, please?” Up until today, I never seem to actually get over it and forget it.
For example, last Christmas, I had gotten the same kind of eraser. My brother had given it to me. It was a slightly different eraseryellow with butterfly designs and a “Doraemon” picture (Japanese animation character) on it. Also, instead of clicking the end of the eraser to make more “eraser-lead” emerge, you had to twist the end to make it appear. One day, I had left it in my desk. The next day, I came for it, and I found it in the back of my desk, awaiting my return. Knowing that before I had lost my eraser, it had at least 3 inches of the “eraser-lead” in it, I realized that someone who sat at my desk had used it. When I looked at it, there was barely 2 inches of it left, and in a small eraser like I have, one inch does make a big difference. Angrily, I had shoved the eraser back into my pencil case, since I was very unhappy. Not just that the person who sits in my seat used up almost half of my amazing eraser, but that almost the same thing happened 5 years ago, and that wasn’t such a great experience to remember, especially when you are already mad at the fact that your eraser is half used in a day’s worth. However, it is not all of the other person who sits at my seat’s fault or Brianna’s fault. Also, it is partly my fault that I didn’t take the responsibility of “defending” myself (from Brianna) and from remembering to take my belongings with me when I leave a classroom. So, as a result, I have gotten good from the bad – because now I know to say what I think I should and not just watch myself being tortured. And most important of all, I know never to give a Pooh Bear pink eraser to anyone named Brianna!

21. Jacob have I loved by Katherine Paterson

Ohkay.
I thought this book would be one of the most boring books I would ever read. Changed my mind afterwards. .it's not one of those books where you want to read it over and over and over and over and... It's not a totally boring book, either.

I could, almost, understand Sara. Sara, should I call her? Or Wheeze? Maybe Sara sounds professional. Not that I'm a professional writer or anything... Anyway, Katherine Paterson wrote it so well, you can almost feel her anger (and guilt, or is it even guilt?). From Sara's point of view, I didn't like Caroline. But I thought, maybe she meant well. But then there's when she gets all charming or becomes unkind to Sara. Almost like some of the people in my school. Get all sweet and kind in front of the teacher, and when he turns his back,,, oh... she gets mean. But, there's that part of me that says Caroline might be all innocent. But Sara must have felt so -alone and not-paid-attention-to, you would say. Since it is from Sara's point of view, you can't help hating Caroline, the least bit, at least. If it was from Caroline's point of view, things would be different. Way different. They never care for Sara that much. It's always, "Caroline... Caroline... Caroline... Caroline this, Caroline that... Oh, our dear poor, dear Caroline..." And it was literally from birth that Caroline always got the attention. And when Sara says, "What about me?" they would think, "her, oh, whatever... ... but oh, Caroline..."
             I'm sure her parents cared for her but didn't show it as much, but the Grandma was so mean. She just didn't care. Though by the end, she seemed - to have... lost her marbles. She was coming up with queer theories and reasons why things were happening as it was.
            But, Sara had Call. I imagined Call as kind of short, chubby, kind, small eyes.... But not - ugly/hideous. And it was funny how he didn't get Sara's jokes and criticized them. Well, I guess not funny. Just queer. Call was very too religious. It was funny how he laughed his head off at the Captain's jokes. And I imagined the Captain as short, and mysterious looking. And that's all. Not much imagination there. But I can  almost see him, know him, but yet i don't know how he looks like.
            I was surprised to find that Sara wanted to become a doctor. I thought she wanted to do something on the sea, since she seemed to go fishing every day, and she didn't seem to mind it, either.
            I noticed that the story was "re-lived," when the twins were born in the end. How one was sickly and got all the attention, and how the other was just fine. I hope these twins don't have a regretful hateful life from each other...

Good story.... recommended. And I think it got the Newberry Award, too...