"Frankie," my mom snapped, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Yes, mum," I murmured.
"He's always lost in his head," she chided.
"Dreamers are not lost; they always know their way in the darkness," Mr. Buckle smiled.
"You may be excused." I leaped up before my mother finished.
"Frankie," Mr. Buckle grasped my hand, "I've left a package for you in your room. Merry Christmas."
My mom didn't celebrate if not for an audience, so Christmas presents were rare. I ripped the paper revealing an intricate snow globe of a forest. I inspected closer, reading the inscription:
Give it a flick, give it a shake,
Enjoy a dream until you awake.
I flicked it as the snow engulfed the scene pulling me into a lulling float. The air grew chilly, and half-thoughts became reality; a chocolate house, a puppy with glittery wings, and two anthropomorphic castanets bickering as they fished.
Suddenly, I landed on a snow-covered forest floor.
"Welcome back, Frankie," a pixie girl said from above me.
"Where am I?" I stammered.
"This is your home," she giggled.
In a blink, the chocolate cottage landed behind her. Then the castanets settled nearby, fishing in a cocoa pond as steam rose around them. The puppy scampered up to me and nuzzled my cheek.
"What's his name?" I asked.
"You know," the pixie prodded.
"Barkley," I whispered.
"We must go; much damage has been done. You have to help us," the pixie's voice was urgent.
"Help?" I wanted nothing more than to continue to pet Barkley.
"Your dreams have been darkening and brought the shadows to our forest. We had to use the magic of Christmas to get you here."
"Shadows?" The shades of doubt and confusion spilled into my thoughts, as darkness began to seep into the clearing.
"Focus, Frankie, or we'll all be lost. Will you help us?"
The inky black ate at the snow, as the question lingered.
"Yes," I murmured. The shade slightly rescinded. "Yes," I defiantly said, and the darkness rolled deeper into the woods.
"Well, that's a start," the pixie sighed.
YOU ARE READING
Pebbles: A Collection of Short Stories
Short StoryGot a minute? Want to have your mind flip between genres so fast you are left unsettled and confused? Excellent! Here's a book of shorts in no particular order; sorry, Melvil Dewey. Maturity Level: fade to black violence in The Seven Sisters & Heart...
