But it isn’t the monster Conor’s been expecting. He’s been expecting the one from his nightmare, the one he’s had nearly every night since his mother started her treatments, the one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming…
This monster is something different, though. Something ancient, something wild. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor. It wants the truth. (Goodreads)
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book found me at a time when it could hurt and encourage me most; it was beautiful and terrifying, sad but consoling, and it kept me reading even though my tears left me in abandon while everyone was asleep and the only company I had were my own monsters, my personal ghosts.
I wish I had a hundred years. A hundred years I could give to you.
It resonated with me because stories, after all, are what we make of them. If loss had taken someone’s future from yours like it has mine, you might feel the same way. If not this book has 205 pages, 32 chapters, and so many beautiful things to tell.
You do not write your life with words. You write it with actions. What you think is not important. It is only important what you do.
It could be about strength of character and the weaknesses hiding behind it. It could be about growing up or even a fairy tale. In the words of its author, go, run with it. Wherever the story takes you, I’m pretty sure you’ll end up in the same place I did: hurt, hopeful, and entirely amazed.