Read Online Nevermor by Lani Lenore - Free Book Online

good.  Wren looked around
to see that some of the others had not even stirred, but she would not wake
them.
    “Get your
pillows and come on,” she said, taking Max by the hand.
    Wren consented
that they should go into the closet and instructed some of them to bring candles. 
Once there was light in their hands, they dared to go inside where they sat in
rows on the floor beneath the clothes that brushed the tops of their heads. 
They settled themselves, excited for the adventure of the closet which could
have been called their secret clubhouse.  Wren was in the midst of them with a
lamp, and they had no sooner closed the door than Max turned to her.
    “Tell us a
story, Wren,” he requested.  “Please?”
    This did not go
ignored by the others, who jumped in immediately to express themselves as well.
    “Yes, it’s been
so long since we’ve had a story!”
    Wren sighed,
knowing that it was infectious now, but she had made a vow to herself that
there would be no more stories to influence them in negative ways.  No more
talk of the factory and no more nonsense about running away.
    “I don’t know
any more stories,” she claimed.  “I’ve told them all to you.  How about I sing
instead?”
    “No, no!  You
must make one up!”
    “Please!  A
story!”
    Wren looked at
their anxious faces, and while she had been able to make excuses for a while,
they had all come together as one against her.  She didn’t think that they
could be appeased otherwise – all wide-awake because of the storm.  They would
continue to be until the storm had passed.
    I shouldn’t be
filling their heads with these things anymore, but…
    Max was looking
up at her with eagerness in his wide blue eyes, and she found Henry’s face
nearby as well, watching her intently.  Perhaps they needed this, whether or
not it was good for them.  Wren surrendered, and started off on the thing that
was nearest to her mind.
    “Somewhere out
there, beyond the sea of dreams, there is an island.  It is the place where
dreams go.  It’s called Nevermor, and if you’re very lucky, you may see it some
night when you are asleep, but it can only be found by flying low over the
ocean and following the music of a reed flute in the distance. 
    “On that island,
everything you could possibly imagine, from all your wonderful dreams, can be
seen and realized.  Every day is an adventure, and every day you will discover
something new.”
    Wren wasn’t sure
how she knew these things.  She had not seen enough of Nevermor to be able to
make those judgments, but now that she was seeking it, the answers rose to the
top of her mind.
    “A boy lives
there, and he is called the Rifter.  He is dressed in leaves and is protected
by a strange glowing light – a fairy, perhaps – but you can’t quite see her
because she moves about so quickly.  There is a sword at his hip which he uses
for battle.  Though Nevermor is a place of dreams, sometimes, there are
nightmares that threaten the world, and he has to fight against them to keep
the island safe.  Nevermor is his world, and he protects it.”
    Wren continued
on, building her story about the Rifter and a particular adventure of how he
battled a nightmare creature that often frightened the orphanage children: the
mythical crocodile that lived under their beds.  It seemed to move around from
one bed to the next, but it never actually left the dormitory as far as they
were concerned, but at the end of her story, Rifter had killed it good and
dead, and they did not have to worry about it anymore.
    All of the
children seemed pleased and relieved that the crocodile was dead, and agreed to
this among themselves.  Wren wondered why she had never thought of such a thing
before.  A warrior who battles nightmares seemed like such a simple idea, but
perhaps she never would have thought of it if she hadn’t seen it in her dream.
    “Rifter is very
brave,” Liam commented.  “The crocodile is a slippery