Coraline

And then, in the way of dreams, the picnic had ended and they were playing in the meadow, running and shouting and tossing a glittering ball from one to another. Coraline knew it was a dream then, because none of them ever got tired or winded or out of breath.

even if it meant wearing the other Coraline’s clothes. (Was there an other Coraline? No, she decided, there wasn’t. There was just her.)

‘Oh good,’ he said. He put the computer to sleep, stood up, and then, for no reason at all, he picked Coraline up, which he had not done for such a long time, not since he had started pointing out to her she was much too old to be carried, and he carried her into the kitchen.

The light that came through the picture window was daylight, real golden late-afternoon daylight,

She hugged herself, and told herself that she was brave, and she almost believed herself,

Coraline slept uneasily that night, waking from time to time to plot and plan and ponder, then falling back into sleep, never quite certain where her pondering ended and the dream began, one ear always open for the sound of something scratching at her windowpane or at her bedroom door.

‘Small world,’ said Coraline. ‘It’s big enough for her,’ said the cat. ‘Spiders’ webs only have to be large enough to catch flies.’

She hoped that what she had just seen was not real, but she was not as certain as she sounded. There was a tiny doubt inside her, like a maggot in an apple core.

Dust motes hung in a beam of sunlight.