“Everything you can imagine is real”---Pablo Picasso

“Take it back!” Sam shouted at no one in particular, waving the gift book over her head. Everyone had left the room anyway. Everyone, being her mother, her stepfather, her clueless friend Angus from next door, and baby Linus (what good was bringing a baby to a birthday party? A six-month-old who pooped his diapers right in the middle of the cake-cutting?) Sam reflected on how much she hated babies, starting with her little brother. Babies were so worthless. They couldn’t eat cake or bring a present. What good were they?

And speaking of presents. How was a book, even a hardcover book with a leather binding, an acceptable birthday gift for a ten-year-old girl, especially a very worldly ten-year-old like Sam, who could recite her name, address, and phone number backwards. A power of nature like Sam Lindsey Meadows, who could stand on her head with her braids in her eyes for 12 long minutes and outrun her dalmatian Digby, even uphill in rattyt old sneakers?

Sam already had plenty of books. She had four bookcases full of books, counting the ones in her bedroom, in the rec room, and in her oversized backpack. Big ones, small ones, hardcovers, paperbacks, books with pictures, books with hundreds of glossy pages, books as small as a playing card or as big as a kitchen table, books as light as a feather and as heavy as a cinder block. Sam didn’t need another book. She had books about Greek philosophy, world geography and ornithology, even motocross and outer space,

Sam was not just a super reader, as her homeroom teacher, Ms. Cooper, described her; Sam was also a writer. A good one. Maybe the little short stories she wrote about monsters and giants and castles would make her a great writer one day!

Sam turned the gift book over in her hands. It was bound in smooth, expensive-looking red leather and was not much bigger than her ebook reader. . But there was no title on the cover. What kind of book had an expensive binding and no title?

Sam pondered how many books she had read since she had read The Very Hungry Caterpillar and all those Dr. Seuss books at the age of 5. Lots and Lots. At least having her nose in a book kept Sam at a safe distance from those mean girls Melissa and Meredith, the red-haired twins in the cafeteria and out on the playground, who called her smarty pants Sam and Skinny smar ty pants Sam. They teased her that she had a boy’s name. And worse, taunted her for wearing glasses and braces. “Hey Sammy, hey Samuel. , Hey, four eyes, eyes, hey, wire mouth!”

Mean girls were more useless than babies.!

“Sam is not just a boy’s name.” Sam faced herself in the hall mirror and put the new book on top of her head, walking across the room the way she had seen models strut the runway, “Lots of girls are named Samantha, for your information. Oh, how do you do? Pleased to meet you. ” Sam took a close look at the long-legged girl with pretzel braids and owlishly round glasses in the mirror.”I am Sam Lindsey Meadows, the famous author. And this is my new book!”

Sam took the book from her head, held it in both hands and began to flip the pages,The pages were all blank. She flipped back to the beginning and turned the pages one by one. They were all empty. Every single page was wordless.

What was that sign in Mrs. Cooper’s home room, over her desk, that said

“Everything you can imagine is real”--Pablo Picasso.

Everything? Sam smiled and patted the book as though it was her dog, Digby. Then she closed her eyes and began to write in her mind.

And then she began to write in her little red book.

“Savanna was an African elephant as big as a house with a trunk as big as the biggest firehose ever.

She could shoot smoke and fire from her trunk, and if she wrapped it around a tree, that tree would come up out of the ground as though it was just a baby carrot! When she wagged her ears, the air moved in waves for miles around. When she opened her mouth, her voice came out like booming thunder. Every creature in the grasslands hid from Savanna. So Savanna had no friends. “

Sam put her pen down. And closed her eyes.

“ I will be your friend, Savanna. I will hug your ears and ride on your back, and here…”

Sam went into the kitchen and took the biggest banana out of the fruit bowl nd

“I will feed you, “she held the banana up as she slowly opened her eyes.

The sun was very hot, and it smelled like hay and sweat and dirt.

The elephant in front of her had taken the banana from her hands and was feeding it into her mouth, peel and all.

“Are you Savanna ?”

The elephant seemed to nod her huge head, and her heavy tail swung from side to side as she clumsily got down on her knees with a few grunts.

“Do you want me to get on top?”

The elephant grunted again.

“My name is Sam. You're my elephant. I created you.”

She climbed on the animal’s back and wrapped her arms around Savannah's neck as the elephant snorted and wheezed and struggled to get back up onto all fours.

Savanna tossed her trunk over her shoulder and snorted little puffs of smoke all around Sam’s head like little tickling fingers.

Savanna began to walk at a faster pace. Sam was bouncing up and down and giggling.

Then suddenly Sam was falling falling falling.

“Sam, Sam, are you having a nightmare?”

“ No, mom. I created an elephant. She was taking me for a ride. In Africa.

I fell off.”

Sam looked around and saw her bed and her bedroom. And her books. But Savanna was gone.

“ That’s nice, dear.

“Why does it smell like wet dog in here?”

You mean like dirt, straw, and sweat? Sam asked

“Why yes, that’s it. “

“Savanna was here. My elephant. I wrote her, and she appeared.”

“Oh, right, an elephant right here in your tiny bedroom?

Sam, maybe you need to get out more, away from all your books –play some sports.”

“Sure, Mom. I know you don’t believe me. But Savanna, my elephant, was here, I sat on her back. She gave me a piggyback ride.”

After her mother left, Sam got out her red book. There was the story just as she had imagined it. Just as she had written it.

If she could create Savanna , what else could she write into being?

How about an evil sorcerer?

Sam opened her book and started thinking.

“ He is Named Exos. He lives in a stormy country in a castle called Blackmoor up on jagged rocks overlooking a black, grimy sea with sea monsters.”

Sam closed her eyes, then opened them and began to write. And there he was!

Exos was staring into his crystal ball and talking to himself; he was looking right at Sam. He looked very angry. He had a long gray beard and skinny gnarled fingers, and he was hunched over, looking like the letter C. “You,” he said, pointing at Sam. Come here,”

And then suddenly Sam was in that cold, dark cobwebby room across from Exos. There was a what looked like a bat sitting on his left shoulder. “You're my only daughter. I am frail and old.I need you to take a spell and go forth to the next kingdom and cast it on the royal family.”

“You mean like a curse ?”

“ Yes, just press your hands against mine and then spin this ball three times. The spell will be in your hands. But remember, it is a spell that can be for evil. …or “

“Or for what?”

“For good, but I am a sorcerer, daughter. And you are a sorcerer’s daughter. We don’t do good works.”

Sam nodded, feeling a knot forming in her stomach.

She had never done anything evil outside of telling a few fibs, like saying she had done her homework when she hadn’t.

Why hadn’t she created a fairy godmother?

“You will be transported by those flying monkeys out there on the roof to the Cobblestone Castle. I want you to put this 20-year sleeping spell on the royal family.”

Sam looked out the window, and just as he said, there were a half-dozen black and brown winged monkeys chattering away to each other.

Actually, it was kind of fun. Sam had never even been in a plane before. And the monkeys were very gentle with her, even though they screeched and chattered nonstop, all the way.

When they swooped down and let her down as though she was nothing more than a lady’s handkerchief, Sam found herself in a wide royal courtyard next to a maze of evergreens carved in the shape of various animals.

Even though she was not at Blackmoor anymore, she could hear Exos’ voice in her head.

“Put a curse on them by touching one member of the royal l family with your left hand. Remember, if you use your right hand, the spell reverses and something good happens. That would be most unfortunate. We sorcerers, do not do good things. I don’t want that, my dear. “

A twenty-year sleeping spell? What a terrible idea. One night of sleep was enough for anyone. Did I write that, thought Sam, watching the happy king and queen, their children and their dogs, dancing and laughing around the big fountain shaped like a gigantic fish that spouted water that smelled like lilacs in bloom!

“No, no, I do good works! I, Sam Lindsey Meadows,” said Sam to herself, approaching the smallest of the two blonde princesses who was. dressed in a fussy swirly-skirted dress with ribbons tied around all her curls.

Sam held out her hand, her right hand, and took the princess’s small, soft hand in her own.

“I am Princess Priscella”, said the girl, with a curtsy. “Who are you? How did you get here?”

.” I wrote myself here. You can call me Sam, your fairy godmother. “

Princess Priscella smiled and gave her another curtsy. Sam curtsied back. But when she looked up again, they were all gone. Her hand tingled and felt warm. As though it was happy.

“Sam, Sam. It’s mom. It’s time for dinner. Oh, honey, you are writing in your new journal. I wasn’t sure you would like it, because you have so many books. But this one is different.I didn’t know if you would enjoy journaling. Maybe it will stop you from so much daydreaming. And, Sam?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Why does it smell like lilacs in here ??