Seven years ago, I sold my soul to the notorious Rick Riordan. I was lying awake in the late-night hours, huddled under the covers with the first installment of The 39 Clues series, The Maze of Bone. My mother always warned me about the dangers of reading in the dark, but I never listened. My naturally curious mind engulfed itself into the black-inked pages, but what I experienced was far beyond what I have ever felt before. I was immediately swarmed by overwhelming currents of dialogues and metaphors. Every word emanated a powerful aura, and I found my mind gravitating hungrily to devour every letter. The connection I felt with the captivating world of the Cahills shocked my innocent nine-year-old mind, but I wanted more. Oh, I wanted so much more. Night after night, I snuck into the crazy world of murder and secrets. I followed Amy and Dan Cahill, two siblings belonging to the most influential family in history, on their international quest to uncover an ancient family secret – the 39 clues. For centuries, the four branches of the Cahill family fought one another to uncover the ingredients for a serum that can transform someone into the most powerful human being on …show more content…
I reopened the now dusty pages due to a fluttering sense of hope and found him on the other side. I do not know what happened in the years of his disappearance, but the new words in my hand did not reflect the impish boy I once knew. His innocence had died, leaving him battered and bruised. His humoured nature was gone, replaced by dejection. You couldn’t really expect anything less from a young man carrying the literal weight of the world on his shoulders. Linking through these new words felt as if it was our first encounter all over again, but this time as two different people. Five years left many battle scars on both of us, but his new words made me realize I never stopped loving him. We continued our literary adventures until our portal closed. It was our ”The