For a storyteller, an open ending leaves much room for imagination; for the inquisitive reader, however, it is a source of great anxiety.

Mrs. Murdo, walkind even more briskly to keep her spirits up, was crossing Harken Square when something fell to the pavement just in front of her with a terrific thump. How extraordinary, she thought, bending to pick it up. It was sort of a bundle. She began to untie it.

The king who stepped into the ballroom wearing a green velvet robe and bejeweled crown was none other that the tiger-man who'd prowled through my nightmares and nearly every waking moment for the past two days. Chorda.

I love you, I want to tell yu that, I want to say it for the billion times I couldn't say it. - Fletcher Green

No, Rae, the clocks won't chime again, these clocks have marked my fall." - Fletcher Green