A small pair of hands lifted a battered rocking horse out of the box of Christmas tree decorations.
“Mummy, what is this doing here? It doesn’t fit-in with any of the other ornaments,” complained the boy.
“Be careful with that!” His mother rushed over to him. “That little horse was given to me by your grandmother, who got it from her mother, who got it from her mother, who got it from her mother, who got it from her mother. It’s really precious. You’d better give it to me, George.” His mum took the rocking horse and ceremoniously hung it on the tree.
“We’ll hang it nice and high up, so the cat won’t be able to knock it down,” she added.
Hmmph, so much trouble for a horse ornament? It’s so old and ugly, thought George. It just doesn’t measure up to all the other sparkly baubles! But he did as his mum said and continued decorating the tree, hanging the glittering garlands and colourful lights.
By the time he went to bed that night, he had long forgotten about the rocking horse. And he certainly wouldn’t have thought of it in the morning either if he hadn’t had such a strange dream...
In his dream, the rocking horse came up to George. Its white paint had peeled off in several places. It was also missing a piece of its left front hoof, and its tail and mane were quite thin and scraggly. All at once, the wooden beast took a deep breath and spoke to George in an ancient voice.
“Hello there, George. Please let me introduce myself. My name is Barry, and I am your great-great-great-great-grandmother Anne’s favourite toy. Her father carved me as a Christmas present for her when she was…