Free Curse of the Dream Witch by Allan Stratton

began to cry. His mother went to him and held him tight, and for a moment he felt safe and home again.
    ‘There, there.’ She stroked his hair. ‘Why, you’re wet and cold. You’ll be catching your deaths of pneumonia, the pair of you. Come by our fire and dry yourselves. Friends of our son are like our own.’ She brought them into the warmth.
     ‘The night our boy was taken, we went to the forest to smoke the Dream Witch from her lair,’ Milo’s father said. ‘But the moment our torches touched the trees, she burned our home to the ground.’ He opened a bundle. ‘Neighbours gave us some food and these clothes. Take them.’
    ‘We can’t,’ Milo said.
    ‘Please. Giving them to you will be like giving them to Milo.’
    His mother held up a blanket for Olivia; his father held up one for him. Soon the pair were dried and dressed: Olivia in a cotton frock; Milo in a shirt and breeches; both with rough woollen capes and new boots.
    Milo’s mother gave them milk and corn bread. She couldn’t abide mice, but had to smile at the sight of Olivia feeding crumbs to the tiny rodent at her feet. ‘You’ll stay the night?’ she asked. ‘Our son is gone, but while you’re with us it’s a little like he’s here.’
    ‘Thanks for your kindness,’ Olivia said. ‘But I must go. I’ve much to do before I sleep.’
    Milo’s eyes welled. ‘I have to go, too. If the Dream Witch finds me here, who knows what she’ll do to you.’
    ‘There’s nothing more she can do,’ his mother said.
    Milo hugged his parents goodbye. ‘Your son wants you to know that he’ll be fine. You’re not to worry.’
    ‘True or not, it’s kind of you to say,’ his father said.
    ‘Why not come with us?’ Milo blurted. ‘We could keep each other safe. You could be my parents. I could be your son.’
    ‘And what if our boy came home at last to find us gone? What then?’
    ‘But what if he can’t come home, not ever?’
    ‘Then he’ll be with us, still, in memory,’ his mother said. ‘This is the place where Milo was born; the place he first saw first dawn. He’s in the air we breathe. Oh, lad, we’ll never leave this place. No. Nor eat, nor sleep, until our boy is back or we have joined him on the other side.’
    His father patted him on the back. ‘Safe journey lad.’
    ‘Peace be with you,’ his mother said.
    Olivia led Milo through the gate and away from his home.
    Milo shuddered.
    ‘Don’t look back,’ Olivia whispered. ‘Don’t look back.’ 

17
Meanwhile, in the Dungeon
    Back at the castle, the Duke of Fettwurst was marching a parade of soldiers along the dungeon corridors; Prince Leo ran at his heels. The pounding of the soldiers’ iron boots shook the dank air; the walls shivered under the flickering torchlight.
    The duke strode past the well into the torture chamber. He turned to his nephew and stomped his foot. The company halted.
    ‘This is the last place you saw the princess and the knave?’
    ‘Yes, Uncle.’
    ‘And it was here you encountered the ghost?’
    ‘Yes. The Headless Hunchback of Horning. She was in that cell just past the well.’
    ‘She?’ His uncle frowned. ‘You fled the dungeon because of a She?’
    ‘We didn’t flee,’ Leo exclaimed indignantly. ‘We went for reinforcements.’
    ‘Because of a SHE???’
    ‘A she, a he, I don’t know,’ Leo stammered.
    ‘Can’t you tell the difference?’
     ‘The ghost didn’t show itself.’
    ‘Then how did it manifest?’
    ‘It howled,’ Leo said. ‘And I think it cackled. Yes, it had a definite cackle.’
    ‘What else? Did it toss things around or make a terrible whirlwind.’
    ‘No,’ Leo admitted. ‘But it rolled a tin cup.’
    The duke’s eyelid twitched. ‘It rolled a tin cup?’
    ‘Yes. From the back of the cell,’ Leo added helpfully. ‘The torturers screamed.’
    ‘Oh they did, did they? Where are those cowards? I’ll give them something to scream about.’
    ‘Uncle, it was very frightening.’
    ‘A rolling