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Post by Eema Braazkumov on Oct 6, 2008 18:55:37 GMT
She was the greatest of authors. Her stories wove images of fantastical landscapes and wondrous creatures into the minds of her readers. Creatures that defied nature, huge powerful winged animals, that her readers would imagine riding, swooping in and out of trees with silver leaves and bronze bark.
And so it wasn't long until her books became films, and her fans were begging for more, more stories about the great winged grundors, more films about the people transported to the strange land inhabited by these creatures and more merchandise. Grundor toys with purple flashing eyes and large transparent wings, that lay emerald green eggs, magic trees that bore nymph like creatures with bronze skin and silver hair, and posters depicting this imaginary beautiful land.
At home one evening, after a particularly hectic book signing, the author sat on her bed, quietly contemplating for a moment, then she took off her emerald green necklace. She placed it in her hand and pressed it against the mirror. It began to shimmer and then transformed into a doorway, edged with plants never seen in this world. The call of a grundor sounded through the doorway to greet her and the sunlight bounced off of the silver leaves of the trees. 'Time for more stories', she said to herself as she stepped through.
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Post by Nuala Bowtitt on Oct 6, 2008 19:30:29 GMT
Imaginitive and lovely Eema. Thank you xx
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