On the night of the full moon, a ladder appeared outside Nova's bedroom window.
It was made of moonlight, silver and thin as thread, and it led up and up, into the sky. Nova looked at it for a long time. She was not afraid, because it did not feel like something to be afraid of. It felt like an invitation.
She put on her slippers and climbed through the window. The ladder held her weight as lightly as a breath. She climbed past the rooftops, past the treetops, past the tallest church spire in town. The streets below turned small, like toy streets.
At the top, there was a door in the clouds. Over it, a sign said: THE NIGHT LIBRARY. Please whisper.
Nova pushed the door, and it opened without a sound.
Inside, shelves rose up as high as she could see, all made of soft, silver-grey cloud. On every shelf stood rows of books, and every book glowed faintly, in a different colour.
A tall, thin librarian was walking quietly between the shelves. He wore a long coat the colour of twilight, and instead of a nametag, he had a small star pinned to his collar.
"Good evening," he whispered. "You must be Nova. We have been expecting you."
"What is this place?" whispered Nova.
"This is where dreams are kept," said the librarian. "Every dream anyone has ever had is written down in a book. Tonight, you may choose one to borrow."
Nova's eyes went wide. She walked slowly along the shelves. The books had titles on their spines, in silvery script.
The Dream About Flying Over the Lake. The Dream Where the Dog Could Talk. The Dream of the Giant Cake. The Dream of Swimming With Dolphins.
They all sounded wonderful. But Nova did not pick any of them. At the very end of the shelf, she noticed a smaller book, with no title, and a pale blue glow, like the sky just before morning.
"What is this one?" she asked.
The librarian leaned down. He smiled. "Ah. That one is blank. It is a dream that has not been dreamed yet. You may borrow it, but you will have to fill in the pages yourself."
Nova held the book carefully. It felt warm. Inside, the pages were empty, but each one shimmered faintly, as though waiting.
"I like this one," she said.
"I thought you might," said the librarian. "Return it whenever you like. We never charge a fine."
Nova thanked him, tucked the book under her arm, and tiptoed out. The moonlight ladder was waiting. She climbed down slowly, one rung at a time, feeling the cool night air on her cheeks.
She crept back through her window and into bed. She pulled the quilt up to her chin, and opened the book on her pillow.
The first page was empty. But as she looked at it, a few words began to appear, as if somebody were writing them very slowly.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who climbed a ladder of moonlight...
Nova smiled. She closed her eyes, and the story kept on writing itself, page after page, all through the night.