Book one of the Imagination Chronicles
The Mice of Uli
Aged cheddar
Mice, as we know, are quite innocent creatures. They love cheese, are afraid of cats and live in any shelter they can find.
But, there are some mice that aren’t so innocent. They call themselfs the mice of Uli. These mice steal and break valuable things. Innocent things. Precious things.
Say your mom’s, mom’s, mom’s, mom’s lamp. It’s valuable, innocent and precious in your mom’s book. One day it’ll be there, the next, it won’t.
That’s what happened to me. My name is Milo B. Davies. I lost the most valuable thing to me in my entire life: my dad’s pocket knife. He gave it to me just before he went of to war. We just received a telegram that he went missing in action.
It happened over the summer. I was in bed dreaming about my dad when I heard something skitter beneath me. I slowly rose up. The skittering stopped.
As soon as I got to my feet, something sharp sank into my big toe. I tried to hold in the scream, but the pain was too unbearable. I yelled so loud that I was sure my dad, all the way across the world could hear me.
I looked to be bedside table just in time to see a tiny mouse finish writing something( I know right! )look at me sadly, grab the pocket knife, and scurry away. The note he wrote said “ the mice of Uli”. I figured I had to find out what that meant.
My mom came in terrified by my scream and asked me what happened. I told her, but of course she didn’t believe me. She told me it was just a dream and to get back in bed.
Milo bowed deeply, even though nobody clapped. Except of course his best friend Jayla in the back row.
“ That was not was not an oral report of your summer, Michael.” Mrs. Whitfield said. Milo sighed. “My name is Milo, ma’am. And yes it was. The mice of Uli did come to my house.” Mrs. Whitfield gave him a cold, hard glare.
“ Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am. I will rewrite the report on my summer tonight.” Mrs. Whitefield rose one eyebrow. Milo sighed again. “It will be true this time.”
Mrs. Whitfield looked pleased with this, so Milo took a seat. “Alright class, don’t forget to do your homework tonight.” Then the bell rang.
Milo walked out of the classroom, head down waiting for the sniggers and points to die down. All of the kids at school teased him for his “ fairy tales”. They were true stories. If only people were willing to believe them.
Jayla did. She always did. She always listened. Milo and Jayla had grown up together. Next door neighbors.
Milo headed to his next class. English Language arts. His favorite class. Mr. Howle always listened to his stories. Always. And he believed them.
If only he could make Mrs.Whitfield believe him. If only he could find one. One of the mice. One. That’s all he would need. But how would he prove that the mouse wasn’t just an ordinary mouse? His head was in the clouds as he entered ELA. His classmate Jonathon walked up to him.
“ Hello Milo. How are you today?”
“ Hmm?”Milo still wasn’t thinking straight.
“ Are you okay Milo? With your dad gone and all....” Jonathon trailed off, realizing he had gone to far.
This woke Milo up from his dream. His dad. His awesome dad. Tears swelled up in his eyes. He missed him.
Everyone was staring at him. Milo turned around and ran out of the room, just to run into Mr.Howle.
“Go to the restroom. Wash off your face. I’ll catch you up when you get back, and I’ll come up with an excuse for your class.” Mr. Howle whispered.
Milo looked up, shocked at what Mr.Howle had just said. He never let kids go to the restroom alone.
“But you never lie!” Milo whispered back.
“I’m the Language Arts teacher. I write. I read. I’m good at making stuff up.” Mr. Howle said. He winked and gave Milo a little push. Then walked into the classroom.
Milo washed off his face and walked back to class. He was still sad, but he wouldn’t cry again, not in front of his classmates.
As he was opening the door, something scurried by his feet. He knew that sound. It was the sound of the mice. The Mice of Uli. They were back.

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