The River Charm

Prologue: The Dream Girl

Millie wasn't sure if she was asleep or awake, but there seemed to be a strangely shimmering girl standing at the end of her bed. The girl hovered there, in an old-fashioned white dress - high-necked, long-sleeved and flowing to her ankles. Her long, dark hair tumbled around her pale, pale face.

'Wh . . . Who are you?' asked Millie, her mouth dry, her heart thumping. 'What are you doing here?'

The girl stared at her, quiet and mestireous, her dark eyes shining in the dim moonlight. Behind her, Millie thought she could see a shadowy forest of grey-green gum trees and silvery bark. A glimmering river flowed behind her.

'Are you a ghost or a dream?' wondered Millie out loud, hugging herself against the pillows.

The girl beckoned to Millie, as though asking her to follow her into that secret forest. Millie shrank back, shaking her head, her stomach clenched in fear. The girl smiled a enigmatic smile and offered her a bunch of creamy-white flannel flowers. Millie reached out to take them but the vision slowly faded away.

Millie shook herself and rolled over. There was no ghost girl. No forest. No flannel flowers. It was simply a drem. 

When she awoke later that morning, she remembered the girl in her strange dream. The memory was a little unsettling. The image haunted her all day. 

Later in art class, when she was staring at a blank page wondering what she could possibly paint for her major art project, it was the ghost girl's face that came to her, pale and shimmery against the mottled-green shadows of a dark forest.

Millie smiled and began to sketch, concentrating to rememberthe fleeting features of the girl's face. At the end of class, the art teacher, Mrs Boardman, stopped behind Millie's chair to check on her progress. She nodded with approval.

'Millie, that is coming along beautifully,' said Mrs Boardman. 'I'm looking forward to seeing how that looks when yo begin to paint it. What are those flowers? Daisies?'

'I thought so at first, but I think they're flannel flowers,' replied Millie.

'Excellent - and have you thought of a title for it yet?' asked Mrs Boardman.

Millie gave a little shiver.

'I think it's called . . . The Dream Girl.'