When I was younger I had a very active imagination, like most young children do. I would dream up grand worlds and scenarios; all I needed to have fun was inside my head. Walking around my backyard, I would be transported to different universes where anything I wanted could happen. As I grew older however this tendency waned. I started reading, and instead of dreaming up amazing circumstances myself I would instead imagine being in the world that the author had conjured up with words. I still sometimes would adventure in realms of my own creation, but my decline had started. I was absorbed by a few different book series. The first I can remember was Harry Potter. I remember finishing the entire series in a few months, but that can’t be right. Maybe I paid little attention to the other aspects of life so it felt faster. I would say I became addicted. I soon moved on to Fablehaven, which was significantly different but ...