Tuesday, January 7, 2014
"...On the cold nights by the fire, her grandfather would sleep in his chair. Most nights he'd snore but then on those other rare nights he'd wake like waking from the dead and say to no one in particular, "Hoist the sails."
Those were the nights of stories. Her mother swore that he made them up until one morning they found the chest. Who could have believed what was there. Gold coins, letters with drawing done by her mother, and a map with promises of more.
And a key.
Stories From the Gold Coast/Nights in Havana
compilation of short stories with promises of adventure by C Anne Ford