The sun was warm on my face and the dirt soft between my toes. The smell of fresh fruit and green trees found my nose. I have a feeling that I can't find the words to describe. I take a deep breath and remember what I was doing when a voice calls out my name.
"Zara?"
I pick the fruit on the tree in front of me. Then I turn to throw the fruit to the person who called my name.
YOU ARE READING
Zara, the girl who was different
Teen FictionWhen Zara keeps having the same dream over and over she decides to delve deeper into her past. Will the past answer her questions or just raise more?
