Aria’s Lost Voice
Aria had always loved to sing. She hummed, whistled and warbled tunes wherever she went. Words came to her in the night, weaving their way into her dreams, finishing as complete melodies by the time she awoke and eagerly scribbled the songs in her musical diary. But one night the diary disappeared, and when Aria awoke the next morning, so had her voice.

Imogen’s Secret
Imogen turned onto on a road leading to a quiet cul-de-sac, empty save for a few old cars. The shutters on the windows of the surrounding houses were all closed, as if each building held a secret that wasn’t allowed out. Imogen was soaked and frozen from the icy rain. She needed somewhere to hide. These houses weren’t the only things with secrets.

The Friendly Robot
There were lots of things the robot didn’t have – a name, a home, something to do while the hours slowly ticked by – but what he really wanted more than any of these was a friend.

Stairway to Nowhere
Steps. Endless grey, monolithic steps. The sight of them alone was exhausting. A gleaming, golden handrail divided the concrete slabs, leading so high that the end couldn’t be seen. Would the prize at the top be worth it? No one could say. They had never been climbed.

Behind The Waterfall
The town knew not what lay hidden behind the waterfall, though there were plenty of rumours. Voices could be heard from behind it even over the rushing waters, promising rewards beyond imagining for anyone brave enough to leap through the water to claim them.

Buried by a Blizzard
Snow had been falling in the western lands for as long as any person, living or dead, could remember. Mountains of sparkling powder had formed, split by masses of crystalline ice. But the blizzards were weakening. Sunlight, cold and bright, had started to break through the now-patchy clouds. The mountains were shrinking into slush. And the tip of what had laid buried was eventually uncovered.

The Time Shells
The clock was ancient, but the gears inside it still whirred and clicked as the hands spun around the face. Instead of numbers or numerals they pointed to shells of various colours and shapes. Each chimed a different sound, and temporarily gave anyone who heard them a peculiar power.

The White Box
On the table sat a peculiar-looking box with rounded edges, completely white except for a shining golden hinge. The top had been lifted slightly to reveal a soft bluish glow coming from inside. There was whispering, a voice drawing me in as I moved closer and closer, my hand stretching out automatically before me. My fingers touched the box’s cold surface, and a loud chime pierced my skull.

A Railway for No One
Once a year, the emerald-green train sped along the track, rushing and whistling. Children in the towns ran to their windows the moment they heard the blaring horn announcing its arrival. No one knew where it started, no one knew where it stopped, and it had never once allowed passengers to board.

The Lost Wand
Molly was halfway home from school when she saw a hedge she was sure hadn’t been there yesterday. It was swaying side to side, almost as if it was dancing. As she passed it, a peculiar stick of dark wood rolled out from beneath it. It felt warm in her hand as she picked it up, and instantly emitted a wave of small golden sparks.

Underwater
“A magical treasure lies in wait on the ocean floor, far below the crushing waves”, was the legend passed down through generations of the island village. A scroll, a jewel or a potion? One youngster was determined to find out what.

Vanishing Act
‘There he is!’ all the children cried when they saw Tommy pass the school gates. ‘Do it again, Tommy, please?’
‘I didn’t see it yesterday!’
‘Tell us how you do it!’
Tommy grinned, grabbed his left ear between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled. He disappeared on the spot, and his friends squealed with delight.