conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled Daughter of Deep Silence about Frances, Libby, Libby's with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Gr 8 UpFrances Mace is on a luxury cruise liner, Persephone, with her parents when it is attacked by a mysterious group. The attackers violently and systematically murder everyone aboard. Only Frances, her friend Libby, and two others manage to escape. Frances and Libby spend a week together adrift at sea before Libby's father arrives to rescue them. He is too late for his daughter, but Frances has survived. To protect Frances from the attackers, Libby's father proposes she adopt Libby's identity. Two others have survived the disaster, Senator Wells and his son Grey. At first, Frances is ecstatic; she and Grey fell in love with each other on the cruise. It comes as a shock when she learns they are not telling the truth about the cause of the disaster. Frances suspects Senator Wells may have been behind the attack, and her bitterness at the loss of her family, friend, and identity causes her to plot revenge. After four years, she is finally ready to put her plan into motion. Can she suppress her feelings and enact her vengeance on Grey and his family? Is she able to reconcile herself with the loss of who she was as Frances Mace with who she is now: some caricature of Libby O'Martin? the author, known for her The Forest of Hands and Teeth (Random, 2009), delivers a suspenseful thriller dealing with themes of identity, love, loss, and getting even. VERDICT Fans of the television show Revenge will enjoy this fast-paced additional purchase.Tiffany Davis, Mount Saint Mary College, Newburgh, NY
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Daughter of Deep Silence
  It's hard to find fault with the kind of man who takes in strays like Shepherd and me. Because of Cecil, there was no door closed to me. Except the one to my past. That is why I both love him and hate him.
  He saved me, in so many ways: from the ocean; from the tides of whatever system I'd have been thrown into back in Ohio. But the one lifeline he'd cut from me was to that of my own identity.
  At the time it had seemed so simple and clear, his reasoning so solid and understandable. Of course it would be easier for me to take his daughter's place, to assume her life. And it's not like the thought of becoming Libby didn't hold its own appeal.
  Frances's future was nothing but a gaping black hole. Not Libby's. She still had a brightness to her. Alive I'd envied her. Dead I could become her.
  Except that she is still there inside me, growing restless. Perhaps I should have had more faith in her. Perhaps I should have given her a chance.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But just as on the yacht when I lay on the bed where they'd placed Libby's body, I don't belong here. I am not dead the way Libby and Frances are.
  Which is what pushes me to my feet. I grab the shovel and thrust the bladed end into the ground. Letting anger bolster my courage and spur me forward.
  Thankfully, it's a myth that a grave must be dug six feet deep. In actuality, most cemeteries only require twenty-four inches of dirt between the top of the coffin and the surface. Just enough to make sure the grass can grow back.
  Which is a good thing because, even fueled by rage, my muscles begin to protest before long. By the end of the first hour, they're burning and at the end of the second they're screaming.
  That's when the tip of the shovel connects with something solid. And I gasp. With relief and perhaps also a bit of dread.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: With relief and perhaps also a bit of dread.. And I gasp.
  That's when the tip of the shovel connects with something solid. By the end of the first hour, they're burning and at the end of the second they're screaming.
  Which is a good thing because, even fueled by rage, my muscles begin to protest before long. Just enough to make sure the grass can grow back. In actuality, most cemeteries only require twenty-four inches of dirt between the top of the coffin and the surface.
  Thankfully, it's a myth that a grave must be dug six feet deep. Letting anger bolster my courage and spur me forward. I grab the shovel and thrust the bladed end into the ground.
  Which is what pushes me to my feet. I am not dead the way Libby and Frances are.But just as on the yacht when I lay on the bed where they'd placed Libby's body, I don't belong here
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last two paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As always, my family is a continued source of love and support (whose patience is boundless!). Thank you never feels like enough to show how much I love you all!
  There were many hurdles in the way of getting here, but JP was there at every one, ready to catch me if and when I tripped. Thank you, my love!