My Passion for Reading
by Rebecca Hamilton
I don’t remember learning to read. I know I was reading sometime before I started elementary school, though, and for as long as I remember, I was “a reader”. I read everything—not just books, but pretty much anything I could find with words on it. Shampoo bottles, cereal box packaging, those little silicone packets that come in a pair of brand new sneakers…you know, the kind of stuff you usually read while shopping, not after you bring the product home.
I read while snuggled up on my couch, while walking to school, even while the teachers were teaching math or science or what have you. (Thankfully, I actually learn best with several structured things happening at once, so long as no one thing DEMANDS my attention.)
In sixth grade, I had this one teacher—Mr. Jamet—who was perhaps the first teacher ever to accept this quality about me. Many conversations took place between him and me, mostly because I used to bombard him first thing in the morning to tell him about whatever unimportant thing I thought was really important at the time. This usually resulted in him asking me to please wait until he’d had his coffee.
Yeah, I guess I can be a bit much to take first thing in the morning.
There is one conversation that I remember, however. I was sitting at my desk reading with a book hidden in my lap while Mr. Jamet went over our homework.
“Shana,” he said (because that’s my real name), “can you please repeat what I just said?”
I don’t think he was expecting me to repeat everything he’d said, verbatim, over the last two minutes. I got about twenty seconds in, and he said that was enough, then moved on with his efforts.
After class, he called me over to his desk and told me that as long as I’m paying attention and getting good grades and not disrupting the class, I was free to read at my desk during class.
So I did. I did it in his class and every class after that. I don’t remember ever really paying attention in school—not directly—and my memories of how I spent my childhood are more about THE DOOM SLIDE (Goosebumps, choose your own adventure), and unicorns and magical amulets, or two girls hidden in their neighbors closet who witness him murdering a young woman. Much more exciting than watching someone write on a chalkboard all day.
(Yes, I’m getting old. They used chalkboards when I was in school. Not Dry-Erase)
My passion for reading continues to this day. I don’t know where it came from, but when I have free time, there’s nothing I’d rather do.
FOREVER GIRL Blurb
Sophia Parsons' family has skeletons, but they aren't in their graves.
The cult in BelleMeadow will do anything to get their hands on Sophia's house, even burn her out of it if necessary. Sophia believes she can gain their acceptance without giving them her house--if only she could come across a little more normal. Maybe then they wouldnt view her Wiccan religion as a demonic practice.
There's one thing standing in her way. A hissing noise in her mind that makes her flighty and distracted. In her search for answers, she discovers a link between her own affliction and one of her ancestors--a woman convicted of being a witch during the Salem witch trials. A woman whose body has been missing ever since the hanging.
Sophia doesn't know that someone in her life wants her to solve this mystery for all the wrong reasons. Someone wants Sophia to join a race of dark supernaturals she never knew existed: the Cruor. When this person nearly kills her, Sophia realizes the only way to unveil the source of her family's curse is to perform dark magic or become a murderer herself.
Get to know Rebecca Hamilton at her website: HERE
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