Nine-year-old Amy Winter's holiday plans have gone from exciting to total disaster.
How is she supposed to have any fun being packed up and sent to stay with a weird relative she can't even remember?
And Aunt Penelope is as weird as they get. With...
"All clear," the daffodil's flowerpot whispered to the purple watering can and the large, smiling gnome before they slowly shuffled across the garden to the bottom steps of the house.
The full moon blanketed the area with its haze of silver light. A perfect night for their ninja skills of blending in to be tested.
They failed miserably.
Not only did they capture the attention of every nocturnal bird, insect, and snail as they tripped and bumped into each other, but they were also spotted by the resident black cat, Mr. Purrington, who was waiting patiently by the top step, licking his paws.
What do we have here? Mr. Purrington eyed the three intruders while he licked his thick fur coat once more; he was very fussy about looking his best.
Usually pouncing on guests was not allowed - much to his dismay, for he found it most amusing. His stomach growled again. He was hungry. Penelope had left earlier, and in such a hurry she forgot to feed him. Surely he was allowed to have a little fun as compensation?
His glinting gold eyes betrayed a smirk, as only a cat who was up to no good could. Anyway, who was going to tell, and break his all-time perfect record? Not him, meow, that's for sure.
"Miranda that's not the step, it's my foot," Cybil shrieked hobbling on one large, size-ten gnome shoe.
"Can someone get this oversized purple can off of me?" Hilda mumbled.
"I would just like to say, Cybil, your plan stinks." Miranda muttered.
"We're here, aren't we?" Cybil's muffled voice became clearer as she removed the gnome mask. "And no lights have come on, so I would say Penelope doesn't know she has visitors."
"When one of us becomes the Storyteller, do we all have to live in this hideous house?" Miranda whined, her deep creases, covering her neck like a coiled snake, almost disappeared as she looked up at the very tall roof top. She so preferred their homey rambling cottage in the swamp.
"Of course. Mumsy always said that the house was enchanted. That its magic is created through the Storyteller's power. How else is she supposed to travel between worlds? But don't worry, dear sister, all this..." Cybil indicated the house and garden with her outstretched hand." is just an illusion. It can look like our favourite graveyard if we want. But first we need to find the transference spell book."
"Ah, yes, the book to make Penelope and the child disappear!" Miranda joined her gnarled fingers together with glee.
"This is so exciting!" Hilda giggled.
Now is my chance. Mr. Purrington crouched low, his golden eyes big and round, pupils the size of saucers. Watch out , here I come, he pounced... onto nothing.
Where did they go?
And what was that about making his Penelope disappear?
He had better find out where Penelope was and fast. Her life was in danger! And, more importantly, his stomach was still grumbling...
Meeooww!
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