From THE TIME OF THE FIREFLIESMy brain seemed to turn to mush. My vision filled with only the thick swarm of fireflies, and I couldn't see the bayou in front of me any longer. The tiny flying creatures lighted along my arms, touched each of my fingers, tugging at my shoulders, urging me forward. How very peculiar. I couldn't seem to think straight. What were they doing? Luring me into the water? If I fell in nobody would ever find me in the dark. Nobody would even hear me scream. I'd drown like Gwen. Only worse. She'd been found. I might never be seen again, but pulled out to sea for real this time. The moon rose across the murky waters, a thousand ripples silently moving across the surface. The fireflies danced faster, thick as heavy syrup, the light blinding and beautiful. I was in a tunnel of light and yet, I wasn't scared. They didn't want to hurt me. Only wanted to -- to show me something. Maybe I was dreaming! Or going crazy. My head ached, and I took two more steps forward. The fireflies were right there with me, kissing my cheeks, my hair, propelling me forward. The bridge shimmered in the moonlight, and all at once the edge where the planks had collapsed into the water had miraculously been fixed. The rusted nails were gone. The broken, empty space filled up with brand-new planks, tight and strong and sure. The bridge stopped shuddering as I stepped closer to the middle of the river. Protected by the fireflies. Like a miracle. I rubbed my hot neck as the image of the perfect bridge wavered like a mirage in front of me. Excerpted from The Time of the Fireflies by Kimberley Griffiths Little All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.