OWLS Barn Studio

Cleo and the Library of Unfinished Dreams

Cleo could not sleep. Her moonlight night-light glowed softly on the wall, and her clock went tick-tock, tick-tock, but her eyes stayed wide open. She tried counting sheep. She tried counting sleepy llamas. She even tried counting her socks. Nothing worked. Then, by her bedroom door, something flickered.

A tiny moth, no bigger than Cleo’s thumb, floated in the air. Its wings shone like a little piece of moon, silver and gentle. “Hello,” Cleo whispered. “Are you lost?”

The moth bobbed up and down, then drifted out into the hallway, leaving a trail of soft glow behind it. Cleo slipped out of bed, tiptoed after it, and followed the glowing flutter down the quiet, dark hall. At the very end, where there was usually only a plain, blank wall, a door had appeared. The door was tall and wobbly, with a knob shaped like a question mark. The moth landed on the knob. The door sighed and swung open.

Inside was a cozy, secret library that smelled like paper and hot chocolate. Bookshelves stretched up high, curving into the shadows, full of books that hummed and rustled all by themselves. On a round rug in the middle, a very sleepy badger sat behind a tiny desk. He wore a blue-and-yellow dressing gown and fluffy slippers shaped like acorns. He yawned so wide Cleo could nearly see tomorrow.

“Midnight already?” he mumbled. “Welcome, welcome. I’m Mr. Burrow, librarian of Unfinished Dreams. Please whisper. The books are napping.”
“Unfinished dreams?” Cleo whispered back.
Mr. Burrow nodded. “Every book here is a dream a child started but never finished. No endings yet. Just waiting.”
He tapped the desk. The glowing moth settled on his ear like a tiny lantern.
“Your section is on Shelf Cloud-Three,” he said. “Top row, third book from the left. Mind the squeaky step.” Cleo climbed a silver ladder that jingled softly. One step did squeak, like a mouse trying to sing.

On Cloud-Three, she found a small green book with her name on the spine: Cleo’s Dream: Captain Shell. Her heart did a little cartwheel. She opened it. There was her dream from last week, the one she’d almost remembered in the morning. A tortoise wearing a captain’s hat and goggles zoomed through the sky on a flying shell, swooshing over cotton-candy clouds. His name was Captain Shell.

Page after page showed his adventures: racing shooting stars, rescuing a family of balloons, teaching penguins how to steer. But on the very last page, there was only one lonely sentence: “And then Captain Shell flew toward the biggest, shiniest star and—” Then nothing.
The rest of the page was blank and waiting.

Mr. Burrow padded over, his slippers softly plop-plopping on the rug. He handed Cleo a pen that sparkled gently, like the moth. “Tonight,” he said, “you may write your own ending.” Cleo thought as hard as you can think when it is very, very late and your pajamas are extra snuggly. Then she knew. Very carefully, she wrote: “And then Captain Shell flew toward the biggest, shiniest star and found it was a lighthouse for lost dreams. He parked his shell on the star’s front porch, made a pot of cocoa, and spent every night helping children find their way back to their stories. Whenever Cleo closed her eyes, Captain Shell was waiting, ready for a brand-new adventure.” The letters glowed softly, then settled down like they were tucking themselves in. Mr. Burrow took the book, pressed it to his nose, and sniffed. “Mmm,” he said. “Smells like a very good ending.” He stamped the inside cover with a sleepy thump. The stamp read: “FINISHED, WITH EXTRA WONDER.”

The library lights dimmed. The moth fluttered back down the hallway, and Cleo followed, her eyes finally heavy. She slipped into bed just as the clock whispered the last second of midnight. In the morning, Cleo woke up smiling. On her pillow lay a tiny green bookmark, shaped like a tortoise shell. That night, when she closed her eyes, Captain Shell tipped his hat and said, “Ready for chapter two?”

The End.

~ OWLS Barn