Trust your dreams. Both my parents said that. That's our old way, our Mohawk way. The way of our ancestors. Trust the little voice that speaks to you. That is your speaking. But when those feelings, those dreams, those voices are so confusing, what do you do then?
"Help," I whisper. "Help."
I'm not sure who I'm talking to when I
say that, but I hope they're listening.
Ever since Molly woke up one morning and discovered that her parents vanished, she has had to depend on herself to survive
-- and find the reason for their disappearance.
Social Services has turned her over to the care of a great-uncle, a mysterious man Molly has never met before. Then Molly starts having dreams about the Skeleton Man from a spooky old Mohawk tale her father used to tell her...dreams that are trying to tell her something...dreams that might save her, if only she can understand them.
"Help," I whisper. "Help."
I'm not sure who I'm talking to when I
say that, but I hope they're listening.
Ever since Molly woke up one morning and discovered that her parents vanished, she has had to depend on herself to survive
-- and find the reason for their disappearance.
Social Services has turned her over to the care of a great-uncle, a mysterious man Molly has never met before. Then Molly starts having dreams about the Skeleton Man from a spooky old Mohawk tale her father used to tell her...dreams that are trying to tell her something...dreams that might save her, if only she can understand them.
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