Love her spunk.
The characters that have lived in my head for years have evolved enough to insist on joining the larger world. To satisfy that demand, I will begin to let them tell their stories. They have been talking to me alone for long enough so now they want to speak to others.
I welcome questions and feedback for how else do wonderful conversations begin.
As the volume of the voices in the drawing room rose, so did the constriction in Acala’s chest. The twenty-eight rooms of her grandfather’s mansion suddenly felt as small as her recently deceased Nana’s casket and just as dangerous.
To avoid even the hallway outside of the drawing room, Acala crawled out of the parlor window. Escaping to…
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