FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. Sorry. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. “Sure, are you sure you’re okay?” He exited off the highway onto a quiet road and pulled over. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. .
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