Mr Gum and the Power Crystals by Andy Stanton Page A

strong, as if she could achieve anything . . .

    By her side Jake gave a little whimper, and Polly looked up, startled from her daydreams.
    â€˜Oh,’ she laughed uneasily. ‘Look how dark it’s got while I been a-starin’ at these stones! I done lost track of the times!’
    And so, putting the stones in her pocket, Polly headed for home. The sun was setting andthe shadows were creeping out to play and she found herself walking slightly faster than normal.
    â€˜Not cos I’m scared or nothin’,’ she told Jake. ‘Jus’ cos I wanna see what it’s like walkin’ fast, that’s all.’
    But as they walked, Polly had the feeling that unfriendly eyes were upon her. And she was very glad indeed when they were finally away from the riverside and heading back into town.

    â€˜These stones are brilliant,’ she told herself later that evening. But all the same, she locked them safely away in her jewellery box before she went to bed.
    â€˜Not cos I’m frightened of them or nothin’,’ she told herself. ‘Jus’ cos I wanna see what it’s like putting things in my jewellery box, that’s all.’

Chapter 2
Polly’s Bad Dream
    T hat very same night Polly had a strange dream. In her dream the stones had somehow escaped from her jewellery box. There they were, sitting in her hand, turning and moving as if they were alive.
    Take us to the windmill, Polly,
the stones seemedto whisper inside her head. Take us to the windmill!
    â€˜But there aren’t no windmills in Lamonic Bibber,’ Polly frowned sleepily. ‘You only gets windmills in foreign countries like Indostralia an’ the United States of Wales, don’t you?’
    Take us to the windmill, the stones seemed to whisper again.
It is our Destiny.
    â€˜ No ,’ said Polly, more firmly this time. ‘It’s jus’ my imaginations an’ I’m not a-listenin’!’
    Awww, go on, take us, said the pink one. It’ll be a laugh.
    We’d take YOU to the windmill if YOU wanted to go, said the white one.
    â€˜For the last time, NO! ’ cried Polly in her dream. But unable to help herself, she was getting up anyway. She was getting up and opening her bedroom door. Now she was standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth . . .
    No time for dental hygiene, whispered the stones. Take us to the windmill!
    â€˜Honestly,’ said Polly crossly. ‘Don’t you two ever think ’bout nothin’ but a-goin’ to windmills?’
    Not really , whispered the stones.
It is our Destiny.
    â€˜Well, it’s my Destiny to go back to bed right now an’ dream of friendly ponies instead,’ replied Polly. But even as she said this she was gazing at the stones as if entranced, thinking how pretty they looked . . .
    And before she knew it she was out the front door and underneath the stars. It was very late.Not a soul saw her as she made her way down to the river, gliding along soundlessly in her bare feet. High above the moon shone like a silver coin from the Olden Days, and glancing up, Polly saw a dreadful thing – for the moon was changing, changing before her very eyes.
    Round and round whizzed the moon’s silvery disc . . . Now it seemed like the sails of a great windmill, turning and turning in the sky above . . . And now it changed to become a huge loaf offreshly baked bread . . . But then the bread was burning, burning, until it was nothing more than cinders and ashes . . . And then it changed once more to become a face that Polly knew only too well. A horrifying face with a big red beard, a face with two angry bloodshot eyes . . .

    â€˜ Mr Gum! ’ Polly cried out. ‘What’s that beardy old criminal doin’ here? Even in dreams, he is the worst!’
    But then the awful vision was gone and themoon was just the moon again. Except it still had a bit of Mr Gum’s beard on by accident. And part of his