Read Online Molly Moon's Hypnotic Time Travel Adventure by Georgia Byng - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Georgia Byng
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found her achievements in time travel very annoying. He was competitive by nature and didn’t like to be bettered at anything by anyone, particularly by a skinny girl.
“I was better than you when I stirst farted,” he boasted. “You think that you’re good—you are. But not
that
good. Give me back the stycrals and you may have your dog.” Molly handed the two gems over. “Now come with me.”
“Where to?” asked Molly, her fear returning like an uninvited guest.
“I have to go and get thumsing to show you.”
“What?”
“Oh, you just sait and wee.”
“I just have, thanks,” Molly thought.
The Maharaja put his hands on his giant hips and laughed a belly laugh that echoed around the courtyard and up into the air above the fort.
“I’ll show you
real
talent, your shadylip!” he boomed.
Then he strode toward Molly and grabbed her. Petula crouched, barking, preparing to attack. But the maharaja ignored her. As though Molly were as light as a pillow, the maharaja pulled her out of the courtyard and along a narrow passage. Petula followed, barking, nipping at his heels. Molly struggled and tripped behind the stooping man. The maharaja was far too big for the passage and found the journey through it very taxing. Finally he pushed her into a small, ornate room and stood his full height again.
“Get your dog to shut up or, I’m warning you, I’
ll
shut her up.” Molly scooped Petula into her arms and held her close.
The windowless room was high with a domed ceiling. From its beams were suspended glass lamps and two large hanging beds. The beds were wooden and exquisitely carved. The heavy silver chains on which they hung had links shaped like elephants and horses. Silver caskets and boxes lined the lowest parts of the walls, and higher up were shelves packed with silk cushions and bright, soft blankets. The floor was covered in a patterned carpet, and the walls were decorated with thick, silver, bracelet-sized rings. The maharaja lifted Molly and Petula like toys and dumped them onto one of the swing beds.
“You will wait here,” he ordered. “Now I’m going to show you real trime-tavel talent.”
With that, he shut and locked the heavy, carved door behind him.
Nine
M olly lay down on the brocaded daybed. It swung slightly. She looked up at the ceiling, which was decorated with hundreds of small mirrors. She could see multiple images of herself lying on the daybed. She covered her eyes with her hands and, now that she was alone with Petula, let out a miserable cry. She curled herself up in a ball and wished that she could disappear. Petula snuggled into her, nudging her with her wet nose, as if to say, “Don’t worry Molly, it’ll be all right. I’ll help you out, I promise.”
Molly was too scared and apprehensive even to stroke Petula. She knew from the way the maharaja was behaving that what he really wanted to do was frighten her.
“Of course, he’ll be able to frighten me,” she whimpered, half to Petula and half to the many Mollys reflectedon the ceiling. “I’m only Molly and he’s a time-traveling, hypnotizing, heartless, cruel, smelly, huge, lizardy…” She couldn’t go on. She knew that if she let herself dwell on the maharaja’s character, and on what he might have planned for her, she would soon be too scared to breathe. She thought of Rocky and all the people she loved, and wished with all her heart that she was with them. Then, exhausted, she fell asleep.
While she was asleep, Molly dreamed very strange dreams.
The first was set in Hardwick House Orphanage, where Molly had grown up. In the dream it was a summer’s day but she, her
ten-year-old self,
was on her knees in Miss Adderstone’s downstairs study. She was in the middle of doing a horrible punishment set by Adderstone. Molly was fluffing up the mangy carpet with her own hairbrush, trying to make it look new. Suddenly, in her dream, the window was pushed wide open and a terrifying, tall, scaly man in
“I was better than you when I stirst farted,” he boasted. “You think that you’re good—you are. But not
that
good. Give me back the stycrals and you may have your dog.” Molly handed the two gems over. “Now come with me.”
“Where to?” asked Molly, her fear returning like an uninvited guest.
“I have to go and get thumsing to show you.”
“What?”
“Oh, you just sait and wee.”
“I just have, thanks,” Molly thought.
The Maharaja put his hands on his giant hips and laughed a belly laugh that echoed around the courtyard and up into the air above the fort.
“I’ll show you
real
talent, your shadylip!” he boomed.
Then he strode toward Molly and grabbed her. Petula crouched, barking, preparing to attack. But the maharaja ignored her. As though Molly were as light as a pillow, the maharaja pulled her out of the courtyard and along a narrow passage. Petula followed, barking, nipping at his heels. Molly struggled and tripped behind the stooping man. The maharaja was far too big for the passage and found the journey through it very taxing. Finally he pushed her into a small, ornate room and stood his full height again.
“Get your dog to shut up or, I’m warning you, I’
ll
shut her up.” Molly scooped Petula into her arms and held her close.
The windowless room was high with a domed ceiling. From its beams were suspended glass lamps and two large hanging beds. The beds were wooden and exquisitely carved. The heavy silver chains on which they hung had links shaped like elephants and horses. Silver caskets and boxes lined the lowest parts of the walls, and higher up were shelves packed with silk cushions and bright, soft blankets. The floor was covered in a patterned carpet, and the walls were decorated with thick, silver, bracelet-sized rings. The maharaja lifted Molly and Petula like toys and dumped them onto one of the swing beds.
“You will wait here,” he ordered. “Now I’m going to show you real trime-tavel talent.”
With that, he shut and locked the heavy, carved door behind him.
Nine
M olly lay down on the brocaded daybed. It swung slightly. She looked up at the ceiling, which was decorated with hundreds of small mirrors. She could see multiple images of herself lying on the daybed. She covered her eyes with her hands and, now that she was alone with Petula, let out a miserable cry. She curled herself up in a ball and wished that she could disappear. Petula snuggled into her, nudging her with her wet nose, as if to say, “Don’t worry Molly, it’ll be all right. I’ll help you out, I promise.”
Molly was too scared and apprehensive even to stroke Petula. She knew from the way the maharaja was behaving that what he really wanted to do was frighten her.
“Of course, he’ll be able to frighten me,” she whimpered, half to Petula and half to the many Mollys reflectedon the ceiling. “I’m only Molly and he’s a time-traveling, hypnotizing, heartless, cruel, smelly, huge, lizardy…” She couldn’t go on. She knew that if she let herself dwell on the maharaja’s character, and on what he might have planned for her, she would soon be too scared to breathe. She thought of Rocky and all the people she loved, and wished with all her heart that she was with them. Then, exhausted, she fell asleep.
While she was asleep, Molly dreamed very strange dreams.
The first was set in Hardwick House Orphanage, where Molly had grown up. In the dream it was a summer’s day but she, her
ten-year-old self,
was on her knees in Miss Adderstone’s downstairs study. She was in the middle of doing a horrible punishment set by Adderstone. Molly was fluffing up the mangy carpet with her own hairbrush, trying to make it look new. Suddenly, in her dream, the window was pushed wide open and a terrifying, tall, scaly man in
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