conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a description for a book titled The Suffering about Despite, Japanese, Raised with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Science Fiction & Fantasy?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Despite uncanny resemblances to Japanese revenants, the author has always maintained her sense of humor. Raised in Manila, Philippines, she keeps four pets: a dog, two birds, and a husband. She's been a technical writer and travel blogger, but now makes things up for a living. Connect with Rin at www.rinchupeco.com.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: com. Raised in Manila, Philippines, she keeps four pets: a dog, two birds, and a husband. She's been a technical writer and travel blogger, but now makes things up for a living. Connect with Rin at www.rinchupeco.Despite uncanny resemblances to Japanese revenants, the author has always maintained her sense of humor.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first three paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Suffering
  I'm no hero, believe me. I've never rescued babies from burning buildings. I've never volunteered to save humpback whales or the rain forest. I've never been to protest rallies, fed the hungry in Africa, or righted any of the eighty thousand things that are wrong with the world these days. Heroism isn't a trait commonly found in teenage boys.
  Stupidity is why I'm huddled behind a large sofa bed, underneath a heavy blanket, drenched in my own sweat despite the AC humming in what is otherwise silence. The television is tuned to the least scary show I could find: a Jersey Shore rerun—horrifying in its own way, but not in the way that matters, which is the most important thing. I stare at the TV screen—and not because I'm eagerly awaiting Snooki's next freak-out. I watch the screen because I want to know when it's coming to find me.
  Earlier this evening, I'd taken a raggedy-looking doll—its cotton stuffing already scooped out—and replaced it with uncooked rice and a few fingernail clippings. And I'd sewed it up with red thread. When you've done this as many times as I have, sewing becomes as good a weapon as any. Then I waited for three a.m. to roll around before filling the tub with water and dropping the doll in the bath.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know four more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I make sure to keep within the shadows, uncertain if any spirits can find me by sight alone or if they're using some other preternatural sense. I don't give them much opportunity, skirting from house to house while working my way toward the shrine. I can see it silhouetted against the dark night, and the rest of my trip is, thankfully, free of any mishaps.
  I see a couple more of the human-sized silkworm cocoons along the way. I know Okiku would insist, so I dispatch them as well. The first carries the soul of a young mother and her child, and the second is a little boy's. I'm not sure if this gives them peace, but at this point, I can't do much else for them.
  Several of the houses I pass are no longer habitable, though a few remain upright. The exterior of every house also seems to have a cabinet-like enclosure with multiple dividers along the outside walls, though I also see similar structures in the outdoor sheds beside these residences. I wonder briefly what they're for but decide I have bigger problems at the moment.
  The biggest of these turns out to be the shrine itself. The main doors are boarded up. I can't find any other way inside, and I don't have anything that could help pry them open. Ironically, I concede that a crowbar is probably the first thing Callie would have thought to bring.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I don't give them much opportunity, skirting from house to house while working my way toward the shrine. I can see it silhouetted against the dark night, and the rest of my trip is, thankfully, free of any mishaps.
  I see a couple more of the human-sized silkworm cocoons along the way. I know Okiku would insist, so I dispatch them as well. The first carries the soul of a young mother and her child, and the second is a little boy's. I'm not sure if this gives them peace, but at this point, I can't do much else for them.
  Several of the houses I pass are no longer habitable, though a few remain upright. The exterior of every house also seems to have a cabinet-like enclosure with multiple dividers along the outside walls, though I also see similar structures in the outdoor sheds beside these residences. I wonder briefly what they're for but decide I have bigger problems at the moment.
  The biggest of these turns out to be the shrine itself. The main doors are boarded up. I can't find any other way inside, and I don't have anything that could help pry them open. Ironically, I concede that a crowbar is probably the first thing Callie would have thought to bring.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs? End with the sentence '
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conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was an easy one to make, now that I think about it. It's odd how some decisions we make when we feel we have no other choice are the same ones we make when we do.
  I take Okiku's hand in my own and feel the little fluttering souls dancing in my palm. As one, we release them. They glide away from us, circling us briefly the way moths are drawn to flame before they remember themselves and fly up into the night.
  We don't say much after that—happy enough to keep watching the sky, even when there are no other stars in sight. Just a boy and his ghost. Maybe this was a selfish choice. Someone nobler than me might have given Okiku the final peace she deserves. Someone with less baggage than she has would have let him.
  Rin Chupeco wrote obscure manuals for complicated computer programs, talked people out of their money at event shows, and did many other terrible things. She now writes about ghosts and fairy tales, but is still sometimes mistaken for a revenant. Find her at rinchupeco.com.
  So sign up now to receive exclusive offers, bonus content, and always be the first to get the scoop on what's new!