• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Jackson pinched himself. Her hair twitched again. Jackson was…well, you tell me. I mean, how would you feel if you saw her hair twitch?

Jackson slowly leaned over the edge. What if I touch it? What if something comes out?

Jackson leaned just a little bit farther over the edge. His toes dug into the crack between his mattress and the wall. Was it his imagination or did he smell roast beef? And leather? And…what was that? Dead fish? And…

…he fell.

Jackson couldn’t breathe.

“Oh n…!”

That was all that came out of Jackson’s mouth before he ate a mouthful of hair. He coughed and grabbed as his hands dug frantically at the hair in his mouth. His left hand grasped the air and touched something solid. He stepped close to the wall, pushing the hair out of his face with his arms. A sign hung on the wall of hair.

Jackson frowned. It’s definitely past five o’clock. Underneath was the fine print.

Jackson stepped closer, pushing the hair out of his eyes and squinted.

“If you need assistance, please ring the bell. for your own safety, please wear the protective glasses. We are not liable for hair getting into eyes, bad hair days, or hair strangling. Have a nice day.”

Jackson searched the walls blindly and found a pair of goggles hanging on a hook. He put them on. He could see! All the tendrils of hair turned into tunnels and hallways, like a maze. He was looking around for a bell when a sweet voice chirped beside him.

Chapter 11

In Which We Meet Meeka and Her Dead, Smelly Fish

If you’re taking turns reading with your mom, dad, or teacher, at least you got to read a small chapter so it wasn’t too hard. If your mom, dad, or teacher read the last chapter, then I apologize in advance, as this chapter might be long. So take a sip of water and read on.

“May I help you, sir?” squeaked the little…thing. What was it? An elf? And why was she holding a dead, smelly fish?

“Um, well, uh, I’m…uh…I’m Jackson.”

The creature in front of him was different-looking, no doubt about it. She was tiny, only coming up to his shoulder. Her long brown hair was tied back, but she had stray pieces everywhere, even in her mouth. She wore a brown uniform of some sort, with a fabulous pink splotch on the front of it. But it wasn’t buttoned properly, and the hem of her skirt hung slightly askew. Her red neckerchief was a messy bow, and the worn leather pouch around her waist bulged with indistinguishable items. (Indistinguishable is like when you sneak under the Christmas tree and for the life of you can’t figure out what’s inside those wrapped presents.) Her big, long-lashed brown eyes fixed on Jackson as she smiled a big smile at him.

“Are you here for the Author’s Tours, sir? We are closed you know, the hours of operation being eight a.m. to five p.m., and we are closed every seventh and eighteeth day for reconstruction and clean up. And a tour guide is required you see,” she chirped.

“I didn’t even know there was a tour,” said Jackson. “I mean, I just fell into Great-Aunt Harriett’s hair and I ended up here. Which authors do you mean? Is Jules Verne in here? Where is ‘here,’ anyway?” He craned his neck to look down the hallways, which of course is a very ineffective way to look down hallways.

“Why, you’re in Great-Aunt Harriett’s hair!” The elf gestured grandly down the hallway.

Jackson looked at her, noticing her name tag. “Your name is Meeka?”

Her jaw dropped open in bewilderment. Bewilderment is like when you look outside and it’s snowing. And it’s July.

“How do you know my name? Are you an elf?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you work here?” She quickly hid the dead fish behind her back.

“What? No! I’m not an elf! I’m a boy! And I can read, you know.”

“I see! Well, in that case, I am an elf. Well, not yet. You can’t become a full-fledged elf until you get out of touring, but we won’t get into that right now.”

“So, wanna go on a tour? We don’t normally do tours after five o’clock, but seeing as how I’m up and about anyway…” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the fish in her hands. Her