“Believe!” the Believe-man on Yonge and Dundas tells every pedestrian within an earshot. He doesn’t alarm me like he did six years before. I guess I’ve grown a bit (just a bit) used to the crazies and regulars of Downtown Toronto. It’s nice to see them there because I know they’re still of this world.
Currently reading The Forgetting Time by Sharon Guskin for one of my courses. We were free to choose any new release fiction and this novel stood out for me, out of all the choices on Amazon.
I was intending to breeze through the 350 pages so I can write my Book Review assignment ASAP. It was supposed to be my bedtime-book, and my goal was reading about three to five chapters each evening. By the 28th, at the last minute, I can write up a 750-word book review.
BUT NOPE. Totally not expected this to keep me up. I just kept reading after my supposedly-final chapter of the night. It was at this passage I realized this book was going to stick.
So reading that line, in a dim bedroom at half past midnight, I got goosebumps. It reminded me about Neil Gaiman’s Coraline (a novel I also read for the same professor, although in a different course). “Other mother” screams creepy ghost, and I was not ready to read about ghosts ans kids seeing ghosts ! Not again. No, no.
Noah’s the type of child that scares me. He knows words and things he’s too young to know, as if someone was telling him. Like an imaginary friend, perhaps. Or maybe a ghost. Other mother. Hearing your child call for an other mother must be terrifying too, ghost or not.