A Castle Made Of Dreams

WALLACE DANEHARD LOVED MONDAYS.

Unlike his fellow townsfolk, he enjoyed going back to the little pub he worked at after a weekend’s worth of lounging about the house with nothing to do. Although he had a pair of hardworking parents that had good employment and earned more than enough to sustain the family, Wallace enjoyed earning his own coins to use. The thought of depending on his family for his mortal wishes and desires was inconceivable.

His job was fairly simple. Barely sixteen years old, Wallace had already grown to become a handsome young fellow. When the sun blazed bright in the sky, Wallace waited tables, clearing the empty plates and beer mugs in preparation for the next batch of customers. Once night falls, he only had to perch himself upon a stool on the stage of the warm cozy pub, his hand on his lap and a story on his lips.

Although young, his vivid tales and bewitching appearance attracted folks of all ages to visit the pub. It was one of Wallace’s greatest joys to tell stories, to spread laughter and joy to the people.

On a particular Monday, one which the skies were clear and filled with glittering diamond-like stars, Wallace was once again on stage. Many people were sprawled over their tables, chins in their hands and eyes glazed over dreamily as they gazed at the boy who spoke of wonders beyond mankind’s plain imagination.

“... and she swooped from the sky, soaring from the heavens before scooping up the first child she sees. Just like that, the child was no more. Together, they crossed oceans, flew over plains, hurled through fields. When morning came, they finally arrived at Neverland.”

The story ended with thunderous applause. The people at the pub stood up, clapping their hands together wildly with hoots and cheers. Some sang praises while others yelled for another tale. Alas, the hands of the clock pointed to half past eleven at night. It was nearly closing time.

“Sorry folks,” Wallace shrugged with a light grin, “maybe tomorrow night instead. It’s time to close up shop.”

There came a unified synchronized groan as everyone paid their bills and left the pub. As throngs of people filed out, the shop was left empty until all but one remained.

Wallace had been putting up the seats on the tables, a broom in hand and a damp cloth in another when he spotted the strange girl in a green dress. She scurried around the room, messing with the furniture and flipping over used utensils.

“Can I help you?” Wallace asked with slight amusement, the corners of his lips quirking as he watched the girl hop over a table with surprising ease.

“I’m looking for a hat...” she trailed off, ducking under the counters before reappearing with a deeper frown. “Have you seen it? I was so sure that it came into the pub when I wasn’t looking.”

“It came into the pub?” The bewildered boy echoed, eyes wide as saucers. “Are you sure it’s a hat?”

“Of course,” the girl replied. “Whatever else could I be referring to?”

Just as the strange girl said those words, a flash of black darted in front of Wallace’s eyes. It zigzagged around the furniture, fluttering down onto one of the clean tables as light as a feather. Wallace watched in surprise as the girl’s eyes narrowed with killer instincts, the corners of her lips lifting into a cunning smirk just as she straightened up.

“Like I said. I was looking for a hat. To be precise,” she pointed to the black hat on the table and Wallace swore he saw the clothing piece tremble with fear. “That hat.”