An Attic in an orphanage transports some lucky children to a magic world.
"I hate it here!" I screamed until my little, podgy face turned blue "I hate it! I hate it!"
The wise old eyes of the carer just looked upon me without empathy, or any emotion for that matter. She was horrible. Mothers were supposed to care and love. When I lost my mummy, I was told she was going to be like a mummy. She was the opposite.
I ran away from her. She made no attempt - verbally or physically - to stop me. I ran to my bedroom, on the second to top floor. At the door, through my teary eyes, I saw something brilliant. A little golden ball of light floating just above the high door handle. I reached out a soft hand to grab it but it floated away. Amazed and curious, I followed it through the Edwardian house. It would occasionally cut a corner by floating through a wall. I was almost at grabbing distance when it cut through the ceiling causing a ladder to fall down from the trap door.
"The attic!" I gasped. Dare I go on?