It was two days before Christmas. In the deepest darkest part of the coldest night Max heard a woof and slipped out his bedroom window onto the back of Summer the Flying Horse. Summer and Mocha, the dog with the magic ears, lived together on The Enchanted Farm.
Mocha’s magic ears could hear cries for help; cries no one else could hear. Those who truly believed in magic could hear Mocha speak. Summer was no ordinary horse. When the sky became dark and the stars came out Summer would fly through the sky on enormous wings.
“In a far away place there is a sad, forgotten Christmas tree. When the trees were gathered to be taken to the city this tiny tree lay unnoticed in the snow. We must find it so it can have a happy Christmas.” said Mocha .
With one gigantic leap Summer soared into the sky, Max and Mocha riding safely on her back. Mocha listened for the tree calling for help and gave Summer directions. They flew over the sleeping city. Max looked down. He could see his street. He could see his house. Then the city disappeared and they were flying north over white fields of snow with black ribbons of highways and roads.
“We’re almost there.” cried Mocha. Suddenly the sky became white.”Snow Dragons. Snow Dragons. They will try to stop us. We must fight them off.”
The sky was filled with fierce dragons who breathed snow. So much snow they could not see . They were in a blizzard. Summer, who had been flying quietly, gently through the sky began to furiously beat her wings. Faster and faster. The air became warmer and warmer, much too warm for the snow dragons. They melted away.
Then far below Max saw the forgotten tree. Summer swooped low over the field and Max reached down for the tree. He hauled it up onto the flying horse then up , up, up high into the sky they flew. They flew so high they found themselves among the stars. And as they flew the sad tree became happier and happier. It reached out and caught the stars to decorate its branches.
You could just see little edges of morning light in the dark sky when Summer flew up to Max’s bedroom window. Max slid into his warm bed and was fast asleep before you could count ten.
In the morning Max’s mother called him to come and see what someone had left on their doorstep. It was a tiny Christmas tree decorated with glittering stars.
“I wondered who could have givens us such a wonderful gift” said his Mother. Max just smiled and spread more jam on his toast.
Mocha and Summer truly exist. They live on the farm and I can see them from my window as I write this tale. Max is a real boy. He is four years old and he is my great-grandson. Max asked me to write this story. I wrote it for Max and I wr0te it for Alice and Eleanor and Charlie, his cousins. I write it for those who are young at heart. I write it for those believe in magic.