by Heather Karn
Gram turned off the highway onto our road, which led into a wooded hollow. If I was honest with myself, this part of the country was beautiful. The fall colors were at their peak. I’d never seen such bright hues.
“I think it’s open from nine until noon. Why do you ask? Do you need a book?”
“I need to do some research for my English essay. We have to do one on mythical creatures, and Mrs. Huckabee assigned me the topic of weregals, or whatever they are. She said there are newspaper articles and other information in the library. It’s not due until the end of November, but I wanted to get a head start.”
It took me longer than it should have to realize that Gram was too quiet. Taking my eyes off the view out my window, I turned to look at her. Her usual smile was gone, replaced by a frown.
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