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By Ann Marie Meyers

Ever for the reason that she will be able to bear in mind, 10-year-old Melody has consistently desired to fly. while she leaps off a swing within the park at some point and lands within the mystical realm of Chimeroan, her dream ultimately comes actual: she is given a couple of wings with which to fly. Melody is exultant; existence couldn't be any higher. goals, in spite of the fact that, do include a cost. inspite of wings, Melody realizes she can't out-fly the stories of her earlier. the automobile twist of fate that has left her father paralyzed, and her uninjured, nonetheless plagues her with guilt-she believes it was once solely her fault. In Chimeroan, Melody is pressured to return to phrases together with her half in her father's coincidence. She needs to make a choice from the 2 issues that experience turn into the area to her: holding her wings or therapeutic her father. Interspersed with attractive illustrations, this touching novel offers with topics of grief and therapeutic in an creative method.

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I again away. “I’m too monstrous to take a seat there. am i able to fl— swing another time? ” His smile fades. “Don’t be lengthy. And take note what your mom stated. ” “Yeah. ” I forget about the pang of guilt within the heart of my chest and attitude his wheelchair to stand the fountain. this fashion he won’t see me fly. “Melody? ” “Yes. ” “Are you ashamed of me? ” My knees move susceptible. “Melody? ” I sprint for the swings as quick as my wobbly legs enable. All 5 are taken. I glare on the little ones on them. Hurry and get off. Hurry and get off. My face prickles as though dozens of needles are poking into it. i look again. Dad has spun the wheelchair round and is staring directly at me. Even from this distance, i will inform he’s slouched in his seat, shoulders hunched over. Saliva sticks in my throat. I face entrance. of the swings at the moment are empty and that i make a beeline for the nearer one. I didn’t plan to fly with Dad observing, yet I’m already in difficulty so it doesn’t make any distinction besides. I repair my eyes at the clouds and pump my ft. Wind whips my hair over my face. I take a peek at Dad. He hasn’t moved. I pump tougher. more durable. My physique is above the bar. Oh, wow. this can be the 1st time I’ve been in a position to get this excessive. I guess it’s an indication I’ll make all of it easy methods to my vacation spot. The swing surges up. now not the standard regular movement however the heady, striking velocity of a curler coaster experience. I unencumber the chains. Gusts of wind push opposed to my again. I zoom previous the bench. The sandbox comes up quick. i'm going to make it. subsequent factor, I’m taking place, down, down. a number of tots assemble at once lower than me. I wave my palms and kick my toes, attempting to fly clear of them. “Move! ” I shout. “Move! ” yet they don’t look up. nobody rushes to avoid wasting them. Wait a moment. everyone seems to be strolling method too slowly. I’m taking ceaselessly to arrive the floor. “Move! ” Chills whirl up my neck. I didn’t say that. a woman seems to be in entrance of me, flailing and kicking the air like me. She has at the comparable jean shorts with a flower at the pocket. And a similar beige T-shirt. Her hair, unfastened like mine, is identical mousy colour. Our eyes meet. She seems like me. precisely like me. at the same time my brain screams that this can be the main most unlikely factor within the complete global, she reaches out. Our hands contact. Then every little thing is going white. 2 Chimeroan What. simply. occurred? A moment in the past i used to be in large sunlight, and now I’m in the midst of a fog, mendacity flat on my again. surprisingly, I don’t think any new bruises. Thick wisps of fog furl and curl above me, tickling my epidermis. It jogs my memory of the sunshine brush of a butterfly’s wings. I sit up straight and realize whatever cool and wet among my palms. Curious, I carry my fingers to my nostril. Grass. Goosebumps up and down my backbone. There are lengthy blades of grass in my palms. I must have fallen at the playground’s rubber floor, no longer grass. And the youngsters who have been without delay under me, the place are they? I should still no less than pay attention voices: adults speaking, young children crying in terror. in its place, it’s silent. I leap up, eyes extensive. not anything yet thick, swirling whiteness. i have to be dreaming. after all. That has to be it. I succeed in for my left wrist and pinch.

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