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The house was completely silent, wrapped in the quiet embrace of the night, but inside Maya’s head, it was as noisy as a crowded playground. Maya lay in her bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling. Her body was tired—her legs ached from running, and her eyes felt like they were filled with heavy sand—but her brain simply refused to turn off. It was busy asking questions. How do fish sleep without closing their eyes? Why doesn’t the moon fall out of the sky? Where do butterflies go when it rains?
Every time she closed her eyes, another question popped up, bright and demanding. She sighed, flipping her pillow over to the cool side for the fourth time. The digital clock on her nightstand read 12:00 AM. Midnight.
Suddenly, a strange sound drifted through her room. It wasn’t the creak of the floorboards or the wind against the glass. It was a rhythmic, gentle sound. Chug-chug. Shhh-shhh. Chug-chug. Shhh-shhh. It sounded like a very small, very polite person was blowing rhythmically through a paper tube.
Maya sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. A soft, silvery light was beginning to bloom at the foot of her bed. From beneath her closet door, two lines of shimmering, glowing light unfurled, rolling across her fuzzy pink rug like unrolling ribbons. They were miniature train tracks, glowing with the soft light of a harvest moon.
Before Maya could even form a question about how tracks got into her room, the train arrived. It puffed out of the closet, shrinking the shadows as it came. It was a magnificent steam engine, painted midnight blue with shining brass trim. A plume of lavender-scented steam billowed from its smokestack. Behind the engine was a coal car filled with glittering black stones, and a single, beautifully carved passenger car with warmly lit windows. The train was only about the size of a large dog, but as it pulled up perfectly beside Maya’s bed, a wonderful, impossible magic happened. The train grew, or perhaps Maya shrank. Within seconds, the train was full-sized, its brass doors perfectly level with her mattress.
“All aboard!” a crisp, hooting voice called out.
From the engine cabin stepped the conductor. He was not a man, but a large, magnificent Great Horned Owl. He wore a smartly pressed vest with gold buttons, a pocket watch on a chain, and a miniature conductor’s cap perched perfectly between his feathered ear-tufts.
“W-who are you?” Maya whispered, her eyes wide with wonder.
“I am Conductor Orion, miss,” the owl said, giving a polite bow. “And this is the Midnight Express. The train for minds that spin too fast and eyes that will not shut. I have a ticket here with your name on it.” He reached into his vest with a winged tip and produced a golden ticket.
“Where does the train go?” Maya asked, feeling the warm, vanilla-scented air wafting from the passenger car.
“To the Slumbering Station, of course,” Orion hooted softly. “But our engine is running low on Dream-Steam. The journey there requires three stops to gather the magic of rest. If you help me gather them, I promise you will find the answers to your questions, and the peace to finally sleep. Will you join me?”
Maya looked back at her tangled blankets and then at the warm, inviting train. Her restless mind quieted for a single, curious moment. She slipped her feet into her slippers, took the golden ticket from the owl, and stepped aboard.
Inside, the passenger car was lined with seats upholstered in the softest, deepest indigo velvet. The lights were dim and warm, like the glow of a fireside. Maya sank into a plush seat, which seemed to mold perfectly to her tired back.
Orion pulled a cord, and a deep, resonant whistle blew—a sound like a soft cello note echoing in a canyon. “Next stop,” Orion announced, “The Valley of Yawns!”
The train lurched forward gently. Chug-chug. Shhh-shhh. The walls of Maya’s bedroom melted away into swirling mist, and the Midnight Express steamed ahead into the vast, magical landscape of the night.
