The Magic Tree House - An Hour for Oblivion

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The interior of the tree house was barren. The only item of note was a table shoved into a corner. As they moved toward it, Malcolm stopped. Moonlight, falling from the window on their right, caused something to glisten on the dust-covered floor.

Kneeling, Malcolm fanned his open palm across the wooden planks. The errant dust puffed away, revealing a golden letter M.

“Why would someone paint a gold M here like this?” he asked.

Julia crouched beside him and ran her fingers along the letter, touching the outline.

“It’s not paint,” she said. “See? It’s pressed into the wood like it was stamped or something.”

A breeze caused something to flutter on the table. Upon closer inspection, they discovered a wide, flat rock holding down a torn piece of paper. Julia lifted the rock and took the paper.

“What does it say?” Malcolm asked.

Squinting, Julia said, “It’s hard to read. Hold on.”

Taking it to the window, she haltingly read:

“The years have been long

Yet Camelot stands strong

The minutes grow shy

And many must die

Unless you return

With what you have learned”

She handed the paper to Malcolm.

“It’s not very good as far as poems go,” he said. “The letters are strange, too. Some are upside down.”

“I know,” Julia said softly, taking the paper back from her cousin and turning it over. “Look at this,” she added.

On the opposite side of the paper were seven words, though these were printed in a beautiful, cursive script.

Malcolm smiled and read, “I wish we were back in Camelot.”

The very second he finished the last syllable, the breeze outside picked up.

“Camelot?” Julia asked. “Like King Arthur’s Camelot?”

The wind gusted, pushing against the tree house and causing the tree to sway noticeably.

“Yikes!” Malcolm said, holding his hands out. “We should probably go down now.”

Nodding, Julia started toward the hole in the floor and the top of the rope ladder. They both stopped, however, when the swinging motion transformed into a slow spin.

“No way!” Julia said, grabbing hold of Malcolm and pulling him awkwardly into a corner. Though it seemed impossible, the entire tree house was rotating with increasing speed. The abrasive sound of the wind made Julia think of tornadoes and hurricanes.

“Make it stop!” Malcolm shouted, his voice all but lost in the tumult.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

All was absolutely still.

And silent.

And much colder than the October night they'd left behind.

*     *     *

“Is it over?” Malcolm asked, his voice weak.