Once upon a time there was a young girl, the oldest child in her family who would tell herself stories as she walked home from school. Some stories were from the countless books she read, and some stories were ones she made up herself. Her mother, an avid reader herself, and her father who had an active imagination, fueled her love of telling stories, and it was one such story told to her by her father that figured prominently in her life, that of a ghost or a ghostess rather, one named Mostess. She loved Mostess, a ghost who made noises in the dark corners of the basement or who knocked on windows when no one was looking, but who was absolutely, positively harmless. She was only playing, at least that was what her father would say reassuring her that there was nothing to be frightened of when she had to go down into the basement alone or up a dark set of stairs. Mostess would make sure that no harm would come to anyone, and he was right!
As she got older, some of the stories were put away to sit on an old bookshelf, and some were stored away in the back of her mind as the practicalities of life and growing up got in the way of her childhood stories. But they were never forgotten, and one day she finally brought them back out. Mostess was ready too! The stories came spilling out, needing to be told and shared with people who never had the pleasure of knowing Mostess and her family they way that young girl once did. And now you know too, lucky you!