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Dreamstones
Dreamstones
Dreamstones
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Dreamstones

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Thousands of years ago, a pharaoh was buried with seven sacred stones; it was believed that the stones would give him eternal life.

Through the years, grave robbers have fought many battles over these stones, and they were believed to have been lost forever.

Six of the stones have been unearthed by children in modern-day Europe. Held whilst sleeping, these sacred stones control portals that allow access into an alternative world, where dreams become reality.

These children must retrieve the missing stone to seal the portals for good and protect the real world.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 3, 2012
ISBN9781468577808
Dreamstones

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    Book preview

    Dreamstones - Sanj Saigal

    Contents

    CHAPTER 1

    CHAPTER 2

    CHAPTER 3

    CHAPTER 4

    CHAPTER 5

    CHAPTER 6

    CHAPTER 7

    CHAPTER 8

    CHAPTER 9

    CHAPTER 10

    CHAPTER 11

    CHAPTER 12

    About the Author

    For my children, who inspired me,

    and my wife, for convincing me to put pen to paper.

    CHAPTER 1

    The Farmhouse

    Emily and her brother, Sam, had just arrived in Spain. Their parents, both doctors from Central London, had decided that, after working so hard for so long, it was time for a change. They were keen to spend more time as a family, something they felt that they had missed out on. Buying the farmhouse at the bottom of a mountain on the south coast of Spain would offer that change.

    Emily, a quiet shy girl with shoulder-length brown hair, light brown eyes, and a smile that could stop a conversation in any room had all the trimmings of an eight-year-old sweetheart. Sam, the taller of the two at eleven, was louder than his sister. He was skinnier in appearance but had the same brown tinted hair. He smiled at his parents, Tim and Sophie, as he and his sister went off to investigate their new house. Coming from a small apartment in the centre of London, the kids saw the farmhouse as the beginnings of a brand-new adventure.

    The sun’s rays cast shadows of the trees onto the ground. Sam and Emily’s parents were busy unpacking boxes and deciding who got which bedroom. Sam and Emily decided to investigate their new home further; it offered so many secret hiding places. It was so large in comparison to their London home that it felt somewhat overwhelming.

    This forty-two-year-old farmhouse offered every type of tree; it must have been a fruit farm in its previous life. An old well had been built and positioned in the centre of the garden; it was almost idyllic in its stone-faced appearance. Tim and Sophie, scared that the children could fall in, had specifically told Sam and Emily not to play near it. However, curiosity only played with the kids’ imagination. The well’s rusted metal and brick appearance cast a multitude of shadows, attracting the children towards it as if it was a local sweet shop.

    Sam leaned over the well, Emily clasping tightly onto his white T-shirt from the base to hold him back. Sam pushed Emily back; his long arms and somewhat larger hands proved to be too overpowering for Emily’s grip, as she eventually had to let go. As Sam peered down the well shaft, small scrawling insects disturbed by Sam’s presence took flight and soon flew towards his face, forcing his other hand to wipe not only the sweat from his brow but the insects from his face. The stench of stagnant water overwhelmed the two of them. Emily, scared that her brother’s curiosity may get him into difficulty once again, gripped the base of his T-shirt, her grip tightening the more Sam leaned towards the dark abyss of the well. Finally retracting, Sam shouted at Emily to let go, that he was bracing himself against the floor with his feet.

    In the distant background, the children could hear their mum shouting out for them. Unlike in their tiny London apartment, her shout seemed faint; nevertheless, it was still effective. Sam and Emily turned at the same time to face the farmhouse.

    They walked towards the farmhouse, dragging their feet on the gravel stones; the stones were so fine they crunched like sugar beneath their feet, leaving their embedded footprints trailing like a pattern towards the front of the house.

    Sophie waited in anticipation at the rustic brown farmhouse door with its old brass shoehorn as its main feature. Unlike the door in London, this door was destined to lay permanently open in order to allow the wonderful sea breeze to penetrate through the house. As the children approached, a wide smile appeared on Sophie’s face. She knew that she had done the right thing, making a change in her family’s life. This was the beginning of the family’s new life in Spain.

    As the children entered the farmhouse, the static smell of an empty house combined with a slight hint of jasmine, sweet and lively, and overwhelmed them. This character farmhouse, once a busy, bustling business now lay empty, only filled with brown square packing boxes. Stickers revealed Sophie’s handwriting with words like jumpers, toys, and kitchen scrawled on them. Unlike her usual upbeat confident self, Sophie seemed relaxed as she offered the children their favourite, lemonade with ice. Sweat poured from the children’s brows, obviously a result of their exposure to the desert climate of Spain.

    Emily consumed the lemonade at twice the speed of Sam, who delicately took a sip now and again as he looked around the room. It was this room that Tim had now labelled the living room. To the far right-hand corner sat an old chimney with a rustic guard and six assorted accessories, all with deep brass handles. Obviously, they had been there some time, as the brass had faded and the guard rusted. A faint bell could be heard at a distance; at first nobody guessed that the noise could be someone at the door. Sophie looked through a murky water-stained window; cobwebs covered the frame.

    As she peered out, she made out the silhouette of a woman standing on the outside of the grilled gates. She knew how long it would take to walk that distance, but she smiled in the knowledge that she had to.

    The children trailed behind Sophie, as Tim was occupied rummaging around brown cardboard boxes—those boxes now more important than any gadget he had ever owned before. As the trio approached the gate, the keys jangling in Sophie’s hand, a woman they only knew to be a stranger smiled. Shadows of the rustic gate made the stranger look even more interesting.

    Can I help you? Sophie asked.

    The stranger smiled and, in a calm voice with soft tones, replied, You must be Sophie, and this must be Sam and Emily.

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