"wake up, Jack," said Annie.
Jack opened his eyes.
He was lying in the dark on the wooden floor of the treehouse. Through the window, he saw the cloudy sky above theFrog Creek woods.
"Time to go home," said Annie.
"Oh, I must have fallen asleep," said Jack. "I had the mostincredible dream. I dreamed that we went to Camelot. It wasChristmas, and Merlin--""That wasn't a dream," said Annie. "It was real. You fell asleepat the Round Table during the party. King Arthur carried you tothe tree house. And I made the wish for us to come home.
Jack sat up.
"Seriously?" he whispered. "Seriously," she said.
"Ja-ack! An-nie!" their mom called in the distance.
"Coming!" Annie shouted out the tree house window. Sheturned to Jack. "Let's go!""I mean--seriously? It really happened?" Jack asked Annieagain.
"Yes! Really!" she said. She held up the Royal Invitation. "See?
Proof.""Oh... yeah," he whispered.
"This time, the letter M stood for Merlin, not Morgan," saidAnnie.
Jack smiled.
"Thanks, Merlin," he said softly.
Jack picked up his backpack. Then he and Annie started downthe rope ladder and headed home. As they walked through thedeep December twilight, snowflakes started to fall.
By the time they left the woods and headed down their street,snow was swirling every-where. Ahead they could see theirhouse glowing with lamplight. Their mom was waiting on theirfront porch.
"Hi, Mom!" said Annie.
"Hi, Mom!" said Jack.
"Hi, kids. Did you have a good day?" she asked.
"Yeah," said Jack.
"Pretty good," said Annie.
"I'm glad," said their mom. "Welcome home." She held thedoor open, and Jack and Annie slipped inside.
Their house felt extra warm and cozy. Good smells came fromthe kitchen. Jack and Annie took off their snow-covered jackets,then headed up the stairs.
In the hallway, Annie turned to Jack. "Merry Christmas," shesaid simply.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
Annie slipped into her room, and Jack into his.
Jack closed his door and sat on his bed. He took his notebookout of his pack and opened it. His spirits sank. Except for thethree rhymes, he'd taken no notes on their journey--not one.
Exhausted, Jack lay back on his bed. He squeezed his eyesshut. He tried to remember the details of their adventures inCamelot and the Otherworld.
He could feel the terrible chill in the great hall when Morganwas frozen. He could hear the joyful music as the wingeddancers danced around in their circle. He could taste the sweet,bitter, spicy taste of the Water of Memory and Imagination.
Jack sat up. All at once, he felt very awake. He turned to aclean page in his notebook. He grabbed his pencil and wrote:
It all started when we saw the white dove in the twilight.....
Using his memory and his imagination, Jack kept writing,doing his part to keep the legend of King Arthur, the Knights ofthe Round Table, Merlin, and Morgan le Fay alive.
As the snow swirled outside his window, Jack wrote andwrote and wrote. He didn't stop writing until he had writtendown the whole story--his story of their Christmas in Camelot. |