Curse of the Dream Witch Read Online Free PDF Page A

visitor.’
    â€˜Am I to be its mouse?’ Milo trembled.
    â€˜Not yet,’ the sorceress grinned.
    Â Milo shuddered. ‘What do you want from me?’
    The Dream Witch plucked a tail feather for a quill. ‘A little help.’ 

6
The Dream Visitor
    That night it took Olivia forever to fall asleep. At times, she thought she hadn’t slept at all. But she must have, because she imagined it was the middle of the afternoon and Prince Leo and his uncle had come to visit her in her cell. This might have made sense, except Prince Leo had the head of a toad.
    ‘You’ll love Pretonia,’ Leo said. ‘We have so many bugs.’ His tongue flew across the room and snatched a fly from a window bar.
    Olivia sat bolt upright in bed. The lamp in the corner cast enough light that she could see she was alone. It was a dream. Good.
    She tossed and turned some more. Suddenly, her old Christmas nutcracker leapt out of her armoire, only he was the size of a man. ‘Count Ostroff at your service,’ he bowed, gold epaulettes flashing in the candlelight. ‘Might I have this dance?’
    Olivia squeaked. Somehow she had white whiskers, grey fur, and a tail.
    She screamed and found herself alone at her wall of closets. She glanced at the mirrored doors. To her relief, she looked the same as always. But how had she got there? Was she still in her dream? Had she been sleepwalking? Heart pounding, she slid back under her duvet. These dreams were far too real and far too scary. She decided not to fall asleep again.
    But she must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew a gust of wind blew open the lead shutters over her window bars. These were always locked at night, but not now.
    A great owl had landed on the windowsill with a scrap of parchment in its talons.
    ‘Go away, Doomsday! Shoo!’ Penelope scolded, clawing at the paper.
    The owl tried to snatch the mouse with its beak, but the creature darted in and out between the bars.
    ‘Penelope!’ Olivia plucked her friend from danger.
    The owl hooted, dropped the parchment on the sill and flew off. The parchment blew in through the bars.
    ‘Rip it up! Throw it away,’ Penelope cried.
    ‘Penelope. You’re talking!’
    ‘Of course I’m talking. Why shouldn’t I talk? This is a dream, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes,’ Olivia said. ‘My third of the night. And I plan to wake up.’
    ‘Fine. But before you do, get rid of that parchment.’
    ‘If it’s part of a dream, why should I care?’
    ‘Just do it!’ Penelope squeaked, running in circles.
    To calm her down, Olivia put her in the drawer of her night table. Then she picked up the scrap of parchment. It was unlike any she’d ever seen, dark and delicate with a web of little veins. Why, it had been stitched together from bat wings.
    There was a drawing on it: A thatched cottage surrounded by a picket fence. Large windows framed its rounded door; a flowering vine grew on its walls; smoke curled up from its chimney. When Olivia stared at the smoke, it drifted off the parchment; when she blinked, she could swear the cottage moved.
    Well why not? Olivia thought. It’s a dream, after all.
    She tossed the parchment into her armoire, where she imagined it would disappear to wherever dream things disappeared to. Then she closed her eyes.
    ‘At the count of three I will wake up,’ she announced. ‘One. Two. Three.’
    This trick usually worked, but not tonight. When Olivia opened her eyes, she was still beside the armoire. And there was a knocking coming from inside it.
    ‘Count Ostroff, go away,’ Olivia exclaimed. ‘I didn’t want to dance with you in my other dream, and I don’t want to dance with you now.’
    ‘Who’s Count Ostroff?’ The voice in the armoire sounded like a boy.
    ‘Don’t you toys know each other?’ Olivia demanded. ‘He’s the Christmas nutcracker. Which one are you? The china shepherd boy or the chimney sweep made of pipe cleaners? Whichever, you don’t frighten me. I’m asleep and