conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about em>The, Darkest, Corner with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Historical Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'The Darkest Corner of the World'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for this book? Start with the sentence 'The Darkest Corner of the World
  Madli managed a nod'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Darkest Corner of the World
  Madli managed a nod. The only thing she wanted was to see Toomas. Grandpa assumed she was still a little girl, interested in concocting medicine from ants, vodka, and earthworms.
  Papa used to find the biggest, fattest earthworms for Grandpa. The image of Papa as a little boy pulled tears from deep within her. She shook off the vision and returned to the kitchen. "How long are we going to be gone?" Madli handed the jar to Nana.
  Nana stuffed four loaves of bread, potatoes, cheese, and a hunk of dried fish into the linen bag. Grandpa added a bottle of milk.
  The wild strawberries by the side of the path were still green. In a few days they'd morph into small red bombs of flavour. Madli licked her lips in anticipation.
  The trail into the the forest disappeared as the trees grew closer together. Moist dark soil, early summer flowers, spruce, pine, and juniper mingled into a forest bouquet of summer scent. Tall trees soaked up sounds and a dense quiet pervaded except for the madding hum of mosquitoes. The bugs gorged on her bare skin. After waving wildly, she broke off a large leafy branch to swat them. She developed a steady rhythm with the branch. Over the left shoulder, a swing back over the right shoulder, a couple of quick brushes along her legs.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Nana's red-rimmed eyes were filled with anguish. "No. Go back to Kalju and Peeter." She scrubbed the corner of the cabinet. "I put aside lots of food for you. It's in the bag in the pantry."
  Back at the threshing barn, the boys were outside picking berries. Madli stashed the manuscript inside the the massive oven; if the barn burned the oven would remain intact. "Don't worry, I won't forget this time," she said, feeling slightly foolish talking to a pile of paper.
  EARLY SUNDAY MORNING MADLI zigzagged through the forest, swatting furiously at the mosquitoes. She leapt over a fallen log and sprinted to her grandparents' farmhouse, already tasting the fresh bread and milk. She hadn't seen her grandparents since Valter left, and had to find out what had happened at the harbour on Friday. She burst into the kitchen.
  Nana and Grandpa sat across from each other, both staring into their half-eaten porridge bowls. "I dreamt of the Midnight Mother spinning." Nana twisted her spoon in her porridge.
  For generations, Estonians had believed that string left on a spinning wheel overnight would be spun by the ööema, the Midnight Mother: a restless ghost whose spinning would be heard throughout the house, but who could not be seen at her work. The sound of the wheel being spun by the Midnight Mother was an ill omen, signifying that someone was going to die.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A flash of yellow caught her eye. A young Jewish girl hurried by on the street. The dark hair and sweet eyes of the young woman reminded her of Sarah. Jews had to wear a yellow star on their arm. They weren't allowed to walk on the pavement, use public transportation, or visit theatres, movies, libraries, or museums. All male Jews under the age of sixteen had been arrested. Most other Jews had been deported.
  After the bell rang, students poured out of the schoolhouse. Madli tapped her feet. Peeter was last as usual. He ambled out as the stream of students trickled to a few.
  He opened his fist. A wrapped candy lay in the middle of his palm. "Hitler sent us candy. At school they talked about how wonderful the Nazis are."
  Oodles of gratitude go to my critique partners, Sherry Isaac and Sharon Bernas. They have lived through four years of writing, polishing, and revising. Without their encouragement and gentle, perceptive criticism, I would never have gotten this far (especially with the romantic scenes!). Early drafts were read by members of Kidcrit, an online critique group organized and led by Marsha Skrypuch.
  Many thanks to my husband, Rod, and children, Katrina, Sonja, and Kenni, for their continuous support and inspiration, and allowing me the time to sit in my office every day and write.