In the early hours of the morning, Emma Schrader sat on the bed. His hands searched the bedside table for the matchbox. He felt the familiar edges of the box; it was right where he left it. He retrieved a single match and dragged the tip clumsily across the rough table top. A bright flame burst into life. Emma held the match to the wick of the candle she kept on the table next to the bed. Emma took great care to capture her thoughts on paper during these few waking moments. Lately, his dreams had been vivid – almost too vivid – but he found that they faded as the day wore on, so he decided to write them down as quickly and as quickly as possible. Although his dreams were disconcerting, they were not disturbing. Emma, ​​always looking for a good mystery, was eager to solve this latest puzzle. This was his personal riddle, and it was his alone, as far as he knew, and not some riddle he read in a book. In fact, this baffling turn of events didn't even resemble any of the mysteries he discovered in the dozens of books he regularly borrowed from his teacher, Miss Rankin. In truth, Emma's dreams were a welcome diversion from the routine and predictable farm life she knew during the daylight hours. The seasons came and went as expected. The crops were always conventional. The farm animals were normal. It seemed to Emma that nothing had ever changed; Nothing exciting ever happened on the farm. She decided a long time ago that farm life wasn't right for her. His birth into this family must have been a cosmic mistake. She was sure that her destiny contained far greater adventures than milking cows and mending fences. Emma craved intrigue. He convinced himself that he could… half the paper… every day. He put on his suit. They were boys' overalls. The same pair of overalls he wore every day. Then Emma heard the door of the little brick house close with its familiar "thwack!" That sound meant that dad was tired of waiting for her and had gone to the stable alone. If she hadn't rushed she would have been in big trouble. As she crossed the farmyard, she could hear him whistling a tune that was familiar to her. Although he never knew the name of the tune (if it actually had a name), it was Dad's tune because he whistled it wherever he wanted. It was his routine and Dad profited from it. Although Emma loved her father, she despised the monotony of routine. The last place Emma wanted to be was locked away on a farm in central Pennsylvania. She was destined for adventure, and there were certainly no adventures on the Schrader farm.