Hollis Shares the Moon-Race — Every night, Hollis zipped alone around the crooked mansion, tapping each roof peak before the clock tower sighed twelve. Read the full story →
Every night, Hollis zipped alone around the crooked mansion, tapping each roof peak before the clock tower sighed twelve. He wanted a game fast enough to make his whole ghostly chest fizz, so he invented Moon-Race: touch the iron fence, loop the chimney, skim the bare trees, and beat the moonbeam back to the front steps. The air smelled like wet stone and old leaves, and his “whoooosh!” bounced off every tall window.
Until one night, a wind gust snatched the moonbeam sideways. Because of that, Hollis chased it past the fence and woke three sleepy ravens in the black branches. Because of that, the ravens flapped after him, cawing, “Tag us in!” Their wings chopped the cold air; pebbles rattled along the path; even the fence seemed to clink along with the race.
At the chimney turn, Hollis felt a joy too huge to keep under one sheet. “Everybody gets a lap!” he shouted. The ravens carried the moonbeam from tree to roof, the grass shadows leaped like fans, and Hollis floated by the front steps, laughing so hard he glowed. Next time you spot him near the mansion, dare yourself to trace the Moon-Race route before the clock sighs twelve.
