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Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher Quotes
He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn’t answer. I hoped he’d tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time. “Answer me, you good-for-nuthin’ wench!” The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Dare to imagine. Dare to be. Books are the seeds. Dreams are the soil. The fruit of the harvest, a world reborn.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
In a world plagued with commonplace tragedies, only one thing exists that truly has the power to save lives, and that is love.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
The description of Huck’s father grabbed my full attention, and I glanced up at the book in my teacher’s hand as if to double check. My eyes bulged reflexively. Huck’s father was an abusive drunk just like mine. The boy was hopeful that a corpse found near the river was actually his dad, but it turned out not to be. It was spooky how high my hopes rose for the boy, and then sank so utterly low when the body was discovered to be a female in disguise. I should’ve mourned for the woman, but it was the boy I felt bad for.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
I felt ashamed for having judged him so harshly without knowing the real boy. His one offense against me―goaded by Charlie’s bullying character―was easy to forgive.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
There are many who don’t wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don’t wish to wake for the same fear.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
I made a sorry face in response to such strong insistence, but I couldn’t believe him. Fantasies were exactly that..…..fantasies. Whimsy. Wishes. Mere castles in the sky without foundation or substance. Dreams didn’t come true. To believe so would be to believe falsely, to surrender to madness, to give in to an unreliable hope that would crush me once again as it always, always did!
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Have you ever felt as if your dreams were more memorable, more alive, than what you knew to be reality? Have your dreams ever seemed so tangible as to make you question upon waking if you’d truly only dreamt them? Have they at times been addictive enough to consume your waking hours; blurring actuality and pretend together until your wishes and passions stare back at you with open
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Though it pained me, I gave in. Why was it that I repeatedly succumbed to the first whisper of a promised maybe? How did the enticer, hope, always find my heart unguarded? There was no such thing as hope. Not for me. Why was it so hard to accept that?
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
I couldn’t think of anyone I’d ever felt sorry for. There were plenty of kids I was envious of. There were others I achingly admired, but that might simply be another form of jealousy. Then there were those I feared, dreaded. And the worst of them, the man who shamed me. I could see my father’s angry features looming over my mother. I could clearly picture her beside him in his truck, cowering against the door while he belittled and assaulted her. I guess I did know someone I felt sorry for.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
The fact is, the man who’d begotten me didn’t want me. In his eyes I should never have been born. And perhaps that would’ve been best. As it was, my existence had proven to be nothing more than a nuisance for everyone. I angered my father, brought strife upon my mother, irritated my teachers, and annoyed the other children who were forced to interact with me in school. All by simply being. When you aren’t loved, you aren’t real. Life is cold, like the stone against my palm.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Real? Real depends upon your perspective, Annabelle. People never see life exactly the same way. The world is what you think it is.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
I realized at that moment – observing his form move further away without once turning back – that I’d already begun to rebuild the imaginary wall between us. I was shielding my heart with stone cold feelings again, the only way I knew to protect it. I still planned to try my hand at prayer. If God would grant me this one request, if I could keep my only friend, I would give anything in return, even the treasured books trapped beneath my arm. I’d tasted enough of a dismal life to know that a real, true friend was of greater worth than the collection of every imagined fairytale in the world.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Severing our young and fragile friendship was a sad ordeal, but sadder still was the fact that this friend found it so difficult to respond to my immediate need, unlike a dreamed boy who always afforded me easy comfort. I couldn’t understand what was so hard about reaching out to hug someone. But judging by Gregory’s uncomfortable conduct I had to assume it was an honest trial.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
The interruption did nothing but earn her a similar slap, as I’m sure she knew it would. Sometimes I wondered if my mother spoke up at the wrong time on purpose. As often as we endured my father’s abuse, she had to be aware that it wouldn’t save me from a beating but simply earn her one as well. Or was it that sharing my fate made her feel less guilt-ridden about those things that happened to me?
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Gavin, I can’t talk to you here. People will call me crazy.” My imaginary friend smirked. “But you’re already talking to me.” “Well, I have to stop.” His smirk grew cocky. “I doubt you can resist.” And he was right. There was nothing I wanted more than to give my full attention to an imagined shadow and ignore those who ignored me in the real world. I wanted to talk out loud to Gavin―to play and laugh boisterously with him. In a dream I could justify such behavior, but to succumb to hallucinations while wide awake would only prove me insane.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
Time passes…..and a billion lives are affected in ways we’ll never know.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
He was everything I needed because his entire character had been molded by my deepest wants and desires. He was my rock when I cried, my playmate when I laughed, and my hero when I needed to imagine that one existed for me.
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
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