Oliver Moon's summer howliday

OLIVER MOON'S SUMMER HOWLIDAY

Chapter One

Oliver Moon folded his swimming trunks and put them on top of the pile of clothes on his bed. There! That was everything he needed. He was really looking forward to going on holiday to the seaside. He couldn’t wait!

Oliver waved his wand over the suitcase that was on the floor nearby. “Click, clock, clack… Clothes be packed!” he chanted.

He grinned as his suitcase promptly opened up, and his clothes flew inside, arranging themselves neatly. Being a wizard came in very handy sometimes!

Mrs. Moon, Oliver’s mum, came into the bedroom just then, followed by the Witch Baby, Oliver’s sister, who was wearing a shiny silver bucket on her head. “Holiday now!” the Witch Baby was saying excitedly, trying to dig up Oliver’s carpet with her new silver spade. “Holiday now?”

Mrs. Moon smiled. “Nearly,” she said. “Oh good, Oliver, you’re all packed. I’ll send your case off to the holiday house, with the rest of our things.”

She waved her wand over Oliver’s case, and a swirl of purple sparkles drifted across it as she began chanting the address: “Mildew Cottage, Forest Lane, Little…atchoo!” She sneezed suddenly and blew her nose with a large black handkerchief.

Before she could say another word, Oliver’s suitcase had vanished in a bright purple flash.

“No, wait, come back!” Mrs. Moon shouted in alarm, stuffing her handkerchief back in her cloak pocket.

“I hadn’t finished!”

Oliver stared at the spot on the floor where his case had been. His case, with all his favourite clothes, new swimming trunks, new Frisbee and his very best cool-wizard sunglasses! “But…where’s my stuff gone?” he asked.

“Gone!” sang the Witch Baby, tripping over her spade and giggling. “Gone, gone, gone.”

Mrs. Moon looked sheepish. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “Hopefully to the right place. I’ve been sending other bits and bobs to Little Spelling-on-Sea all morning. With a bit of luck, the wand will know where to send your case, too.” She crossed her fingers quickly.

A shout came up from Mr. Moon, who was downstairs. “Let’s go!”

“We’d better not keep your dad waiting,” Mrs. Moon said, picking up the Witch Baby and heading for the door. “Come on, Oliver. Time to fly!”