New Blog Coming Soon!

   After a LONG hiatus of not updating this blog, and taking a lot of time revising the story of the three enchanted kittens, it's time to start a new story serial blog about them and start a "new chapter". 

    I'm still keeping this original blog because I want to see how my stories progressed throughout the year and how I can learn from my mistakes. 

   Therefore, I will keep you posted on when my new blog will be launched. Thanks for all your patience and support. 

Chapter Three: The 1,138 Steps

   Welcome back to The Storyteller's Attic! Before we get started, we've just got new artwork from our friend, Alyssa on Fiverr - a picture of Sherbet and his zoetrope. Take a look!

  And now, here is chapter three of our original continuing tale starring the three enchanted kittens. Enjoy!

    “So, what was Princess Jessica searching for in her ‘path’?” asked Mark, as The Mighty Triton sailed toward the Isle of Lost Dreams.

  Ivan sighed as he showed the map to everyone for another look. “She was searching for guidance from a misunderstood friend of her family’s — a lost knight known as Sir Everbright, who wandered onto that island nearly a decade ago. And because of Princess Jessica’s disappearance… rumor has it he’s now called Sir Everfall, since he’s lost his sense of direction.”

  “And he might also be known as that because his armor is almost in ruins and his face is nearly invisible,” quacked Alex.

  “For real?” asked Leonard, startled.

  “According to the legend I’ve read,” replied Alex with a shrug. “Anyway, maybe — just maybe — if we find something to restore the lost dreams on the island, including Princess Jessica’s and Sir Everfall’s, there’s a chance we could bring Sir Everbright back to life once more.”

  “Alex, I think you’re onto something,” said Zarina, smiling.

  “Smart duck,” chuckled Sherbet. “I like him.”

  “Lost his sense of direction… does that mean?” asked Diane.

  “Aye, Reese,” replied Ivan. “He forgot his reading and math knowledge. That’s what happens when you spend too much time on that cursed island — even if you finished school in life.”

  “Is there a way to rebuild his wisdom, too?” asked Mark.

  “I hope so,” said Tabitha. “That knight was very special to the Royal Whalen Family. He was more than a misunderstood friend and heroic knight‑in‑armor — he was a man with dreams, just like everybody else.”

  “Sounds like he’s a well‑known figure,” said Diane.

  “Oh, yes,” said Charles, bending an ear a tad. “Sir Everbright has appeared in many tales and bits of folklore for generations. You just don’t always notice him.”

  “He’s sort of a ‘read‑between‑the‑lines’ character,” said Garth, sharpening his sword. “Get the idea?”

  “Ah! There it is!” said Ivan, looking ahead through a telescope. “Be on your toes, everybody. The Isle of Lost Dreams can be dangerous. There’s no telling what could happen to any of us when we set foot there. Speaking of — where’d Oppenheimer go?”

A vintage Peter Pan book c. 1924

  

  “Here!” shouted Oppenheimer, coming up from below deck, waving a book from his childhood.

  “What’s that?” asked Soren, noticing the storybook in Oppenheimer’s hands.

  “This, Soren, is my childhood dream that came true,” said Oppenheimer. “My Peter Pan storybook. The Neverland tales were the reason I wanted to become a pirate — so I could fight Captain Hook myself, steal his treasure and give it back to its rightful owners like good pirates should, and God‑willing, meet a fairy or two. I’m taking this with me so this island won’t take that dream away from me.”

  “Aye,” smiled Ivan. “We owe our lives and pirate careers to Sir Barrie and the boy who never grew up. One of these days, we shall visit the world known as Neverland, meet Peter Pan, and together fight the scurvy Captain Hook.”

  “But that,” Zarina said, clearing her throat, “is a someday thing. Everyone ready to venture onto this dreamless island?”

  “Remember,” said Ivan, with caution. “Careful. Unexpected stuff happens here.”

  The heroes and the kittens finally set foot on the dreamless island. The Isle of Lost Dreams was foggy, colorless, and hollow. It looked like a haunted, deserted jungle with no animals or humans living inside it.

  “Not my idea of a mighty jungle waiting to be discovered,” said Sherbet, shivering as he looked around.

  “Certainly not,” agreed Tabitha, trying to add color with her shimmering blue cloak. “It’s like the elephants and monkeys moved away because they’re frightened by the idea of dreams being forgotten.”

  “No kidding,” said Soren, swirling his tail to add some light. “And how are we supposed to find Sir Everfall with all this gloom around us?”

  “Did I hear somebody mention me? Hck! Hck!!” coughed a voice from a high distance.

  The group gasped, startled.

  “That’s him!!” said Ivan.

  “How could you be so sure?” Alex quacked.

   

  “Up here!! Or wherever I am! HCK!” coughed Sir Everfall from atop a tall tower with a mighty long flight of stairs. He tried his best to wave so the heroes could see him.

  “Dear Lord!!” gasped Oppenheimer, adjusting his glasses. “He’s in beyond terrible shape! His armor is rusted, his sword is broken, and worse — he’s barely walking!”

  “What about his face?” asked Leonard.

  “I… I can’t see his face, Leonard,” said Oppenheimer. “Perhaps the rumor is true. He’s been stuck on this island so long, his face is now invisible.”

  “Yes! HCK, HCK!” coughed Sir Everfall. “Very good, Ivan!”

  “Uh, no. That was me, Tom Oppenheimer, Sir Everfall.”

  “HCK! Curse this island!! It took away my sense of direction — I don’t know how to carry a three in a math problem anymore!”

  “Sir Everfall, it’s us — the three kittens!” called Tabitha. “I’m Tabitha! Hold tight! We’re on our way up to help you and to finish Princess Jessica’s story!”

  “Oh, wonderful!” coughed Sir Everfall, trying not to get too excited. “But you must climb these 1,138 steps to reach me at the top! As you do, all of you are faced with a test! Above all… HCK! Excuse me! Above all, you need this special Star Key to restore not just me… but the heart of the island itself! Best of luck to you all!”

  “Fear not, Sir!” called Mark. “We’ll do what needs to be done! Mark Foley, over and out!”

  “Say what? Over and out, what?” coughed Sir Everfall.

  “Never mind,” said Soren. “Let’s get climbing. Watch your step, everyone. We don’t know how sturdy this high and thin tower is.”

  “Wait, 1,138 steps,” quacked Alex. “How would Sir Everfall know there’s that many steps in this 375‑foot tower?”

  “How would you know it’s that tall?” asked Sherbet.

  “Give or take,” shrugged Alex. “Anyway, not important — both questions. The fallen knight and the lost pirate princess need our help.”

  The three enchanted kittens led the others carefully up the tall, thin tower. The stairs did their best to stay sturdy for the brave heroes. Suddenly, gold glowing lanterns appeared above them as they climbed, hovering in a slow, circling pattern.

  “Woah!” said Soren. “What do we have here? A light show.”

  “I think it’s more than a light show, Soren,” said Leonard, mesmerized.

  “Could this be the test Sir Everfall was talking about?” asked Diane.

  “You could be right, Reese,” said Ivan. “Look! The lanterns are trying to tell us something!”

  The lanterns flickered in a familiar five‑note cinematic tune.

   

The Five Notes from "Close Encounters"

  

  “They’re saying ‘hi’ in Truffaut code,” said Tabitha.

  “How do you know that?” asked Diane.

  “I recognize that tune,” said Mark, answering for her. “Those are the five tones from Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind. And the name of the code refers to—”

François Truffaut

  “François Truffaut,” purred Sherbet. “He played the researcher in the movie who explained the musical language of the aliens. We adopted this code for our lanterns after we saw the film one time.”

  “Tell us more about it later,” said Mark, trying to stay focused. “What are the lights saying to us?”

  “More accurately,” said Soren, “what are the lanterns saying to you, Mark?”

  “Me??”

  “Yes,” said a mysterious ghostly voice. “Mark Foley, here is your challenge on your journey to rescue Sir Everbright.”

  The magic lanterns glowed in a musical pattern before revealing a vision of a certain video game involving building blocks, zombies, and other creatures.

    “Minecraft,” said Mark, amazed. “One of my favorite games of all time.”

   Next, a pair of phantom hands attempted to destroy the Minecraft world shown before the heroes.

  “They say worlds built in playtime fade forever,” said the mysterious voice.

  “Huh?!” Mark reacted, confused.

  “Foley, my lad!” said Ivan. “These lanterns are remembering your dreams!”

  “Well… what do they want me to do?”

  “Will you continue building in the Minecraft world or give up?” asked the mysterious voice.

   A glowing green cube appeared before Mark, tempting him to choose. He clenched his fists, exhaled, and touched the block.

  “Yeah… I’ll keep building. Every block it takes to make imagination last forever.”

   A Minecraft‑block rainbow appeared in the lanterns’ vision, symbolizing Mark’s bravery.

  “Wise decision, young friend,” said the mysterious voice, warm with approval. “This is how dreams survive: build, break, repeat. Next, I choose Diane Reese.”

  The lanterns then revealed a vision of a social‑media feed screenshot with familiar icons: a red play button, a blue bird, and a camera lens. Suddenly, photos with vintage filters flickered while six‑second funny videos looped endlessly and captions scrolled across the mist.

  “This looks like something I’d dream about,” said Diane, honest and a little shy. “Sharing moments with friends and family online so they’d linger on.”

  The vision deepened. Phantom versions of friends began causing havoc in the feed — laughing like maniacs, spreading hate speech, twisting posts into something ugly.

  “Diane,” said the mysterious voice. “Sometimes posts vanish. The likes and reactions fade. Even the connections break.”

  “But that’s not the point,” Diane replied. “I don’t care about the reactions. All that mattered to me was being seen and heard.”

  “I think the island is asking if you still believe in that dream,” said Tabitha.

  “Yes, I do,” said Diane, smiling with quiet certainty. “Always.”

  With that, the phantom friends dissolved, and the social‑media icons glowed gold.

  “Well done, Diane,” said the mysterious voice. “Dreams grow when we share them. No matter if it’s a Vine loop or a Tweet — what matters is the story you tell. My next challengers will be the three kittens. Tabitha, you’ll go first.”

from Disney's "The Great Cat Family", 1956

  The lanterns next displayed a vision of Tabitha’s time as an Egyptian goddess, perched proudly as pharaohs worshiped her.

  “Brings back memories, huh, sis?” said Sherbet, winking. “You really had it made in Ancient Egypt.”

  “Ah, the simple joys of being a goddess,” said Tabitha, shaking her head with a smile. “It really was fun. The wonderful gifts they brought me, the songs they sang about me, even the stories they told me. Wait - am I being… mummified!? I thought I avoided that with our magic!”

  The lanterns were showing something that never happened to Tabitha during her goddess days — her body being preserved, wrapped, and prepared for burial.

  “Impossible! Madame Beast took me home when my life in Egypt was ending!” said Tabitha, her eyes watering.

  “Who’s Madame Beast?” asked Diane.

  “Our mom,” said Soren. “She’s a special constellation in the stars that made us. We’ll explain later.”

  “Don’t cry, Tabitha,” said Ivan, gently comforting the enchanted kitten. “Oh, great spirit of the island, what point are you trying to make with this vision?”

  “There are times when people, animals, and yes, even gods and goddesses fear being forgotten,” said the mysterious voice.

  “Well… I know I have friends and family throughout the times and places I’ve been with my siblings who never forgot who I was,” said Tabitha, holding back tears.

  “She’s right,” said Sherbet. “Tabitha is a special kitten. Everyone should know her in our legend.”

  “I think the spirit is asking if your worth depends on others remembering you, Tabitha,” said Oppenheimer, brushing his white mustache.

  Tabitha took a deep breath. “No. My worth is in the stories I protect right now — not the worship I once had.”

  With that answer, the lanterns showed Tabitha’s mummified body glowing and being restored — the bandages unwrapping, her blue cloak shining like the Nile, and her sapphire eyes gleaming with joy.

  “Very good, Tabitha,” said the mysterious voice. “That shows how much you’ve grown, and how deeply stories still matter to you. Soren, you’re up next.”

Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor in "Moulin Rouge!"

  Next, the lanterns showed a vision of 1890s Paris, France — more specifically, the Moulin Rouge, where people went for music and dancing pleasures. There, it showed Soren sitting with his significant other, Astrid, watching the ladies perform the can‑can while the men went wild with excitement.

  “Astrid!” gasped Soren. “My true love.”

  “Your girlfriend?” asked Diane.

  “Yes,” said Soren, sniffing. “She was a graceful kitten. Astrid belonged to a dancer at the Moulin Rouge during the turn‑of‑the‑century summer of love.”

  “You mean her owner was a…” asked Mark.

  “NO!” interrupted Soren, defensively. “Her owner was not a prostitute. She was just a regular dancer — innocent, carefree, and loved to dance for Paris.”

  Suddenly, the vision showed Soren and Astrid being separated because of a scandal erupting at the famous cabaret.

  “Huh?” reacted Soren. “What’s going on? Why are we being taken away? This isn’t Romeo & Juliet.”

  “More like Tony & Maria,” said Sherbet.

  “Same story, Sherbet,” said Tabitha. “Just a different setting and genre.”

  “There was no scandal that I know of at the Moulin Rouge in 1899,” said Soren. “Unless we’re talking about Baz Luhrmann’s movie… Astrid, where are you going?!”

  “Calm down, Soren,” said Zarina gently. “Great island spirit… what is your point with this vision of Soren and Astrid?”

  “Soren…” began the mysterious voice. “Do you believe that love fades when distance or fear divides it? Or do you trust that true love endures, even when stories twist and shadows lie?”

  “I…” Soren stammered. “I know for a fact that true love and friendship never end. Maybe… maybe you must trust that love survives distance and time.”

  Suddenly, the lanterns burst into bright colors and showed Soren and Astrid reuniting in harmony, music swelling into a romantic flair.

  “Excellent, Soren,” said the mysterious voice. “What you just said proves faithfulness in your heart. Please accept this as a reward for your loyalty.”

   And pouncing out of the vision came Astrid herself — now immortal.

  “Astrid?” Soren gasped.

  “Bonjour, Soren,” Astrid greeted softly.

  “It’s a miracle! But… how is this possible?”

  “Let’s just say a certain star in the sky helped me find you,” said Astrid.

  Soren looked upward, eyes glistening. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered.

  “And now, Sherbet,” said the mysterious voice. “It is your turn.”

Carnaby Street, London, 1966

  The lanterns then showed a vision of 1966 London, England — specifically Carnaby Street, bursting with bright, mad, mod colors. Boys with long Beatle‑styled haircuts let it flow freely (much to their parents’ disapproval), and girls wore the latest eye‑popping patterned dresses. The Beatles’ number‑one hit “Paperback Writer” blared through the vision.

  “No way!” Sherbet exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. “This is London during the Swinging Sixties! You have no idea how many times I kept coming back to those days. And this is where I got my appreciation for English traditions. Tea at three in the afternoon and all that.”

  Then, the vision suddenly drained of color. Everything turned black‑and‑white. The teens and kids were being punished for having a good time, for listening to The Beatles, for the way they looked.

  “Wait — what happened to the color?” asked Sherbet. “And where’d The Beatles’ music go? And more importantly, why are the kids and teens being arrested?”

  A police officer scolded a long‑haired boy. “You need a haircut! You look ridiculous! And you’re not supposed to listen to The Beatles! You heard what they said about Jesus!”

John Lennon in Spain, 1966

  “One,” argued the boy, “that was John, and he apologized so many times for that. Two, my hair is just fine, thank you. And three, if you don’t like what I’m wearing, would you rather I go without clothes?”

  “You look like a bloody girl!” the policeman snapped back.

  “Hey, man!” the kid shot back. “Jesus had long hair too! You gonna ban him?”

  “Stop it!” shouted Sherbet. “Stop the tape! Or footage, or whatever format this is in! What’s the point of this dystopian 1966 London Town?”

  “Let me ask you this, Sherbet,” said the mysterious voice. “Do you trust your own voice — even when the colors fade away and when others force you to change who you are?”

  “If this is your way of asking if I believe in the right to express myself during dark times, then yes, I do,” said Sherbet.

  With that response, the colors returned to the vision. The policemen released the teens and children, letting them go about their business — and the kids resumed their joy and happiness. The Beatles’ song continued.

  “Outstanding job, Sherbet,” said the mysterious voice. “Self‑expression and identity are crucial parts of storytelling and dreams. Now then, you’re nearly at the top of the stairs. I need one last challenger to volunteer for the final turn.”

  “I’ll do it!” Tom Oppenheimer said, clearing his throat loudly. “I don’t want to lose my childhood dream.”

  “Ah, Tom Oppenheimer,” said the mysterious voice, warmly. “Your dream is a special one.”

  The lanterns then showed their final vision: a young Tom Oppenheimer, age six, in his childhood bedroom, reading the Peter Pan storybook with a flashlight.

  “Bless my eyes!” said Oppenheimer, nearly tearing up. “That’s me! And there’s my storybook! The island remembers my dream of becoming a Neverland pirate!”

  Then the bedroom lights in the vision flicked on. In came Tom’s mother, who snatched the book and flashlight from his hands.

  “Go to sleep and grow up!” she said harshly.

  “Wait just a minute,” said Oppenheimer. “My mother never, ever acted like that to me! Nor did my father! They loved Peter Pan too. But they did say being a pirate in Neverland would be impossible. But if you imagine it, on the other hand…”

  “My question for you, Oppenheimer, is this: do you still believe in the dream you held as a child?” asked the mysterious voice. “Or did the world convince you to grow up too soon? By the looks of it, you seem to be holding on to a fragment of your dream.”

  Oppenheimer looked down at the Peter Pan storybook still in his hands. An emotional smile curled on his lips. “Not just I believed in that dream… but my friends and family, too. Yes, we have to grow up in life, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still love stories and hold on to our precious dreams.”

  The vision then showed Oppenheimer’s mother returning the book to the child Oppenheimer, wearing an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know what came over me. But you really need your sleep. Just remember — like Peter Pan did, cherish your childhood.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” said the child Oppenheimer. “Good night.”

  “Pleasant dreams, Thomas,” Mrs. Oppenheimer said as she exited the bedroom and turned off the lights.

  “Masterfully well done, Oppenheimer,” said the mysterious voice with high praise. “Even as adults, we still have the option to believe in the impossible, whether others approve or not. And now, you have all reached the 1,138th step of the tower. Well done! Please, take this enchanted Star Key — and good luck restoring Sir Everbright and the heart of this island.”

 
 “Thank you, great spirit of the island,” said Tabitha, bowing her head.

  “And thank you, great heroes,” said the mysterious voice.

 
 “What did we do for you?” asked Mark.

  

Bonnie Anne from "Pirate101"

  Suddenly, at the top of the tower, a figure revealed itself… a pirate vixen in a beautiful green adventurer’s dress.

  “Buccaneer Tangerine!” gasped Ivan, stunned. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Ivan,” replied Buccaneer Tangerine, bowing gracefully. “Thank you for your help bringing me back.”

  “What were you doing on the dreamless island?” asked Zarina.

  “I was looking for Princess Jessica,” said Tangerine. “But the ghosts of the island imprisoned me as another lost pirate.”

  “We were worried about you,” quacked Alex. “It was as if you were erased from existence.”

  Buccaneer Tangerine then revealed the Star Key and placed it in Mark’s hands.

  “Come,” she said. “Sir Everbright needs our help — and we must set the lost dreams of this island free.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Juggling Planets on YouTube and Instagram!

 

   We at Juggling Planets are working on a project called "The Whole Wide World". It's going to be this special video game/interactive movie project based on many influential works. More about this project in a future post. 

   But we want to tell you about our YouTube channel right here. Please come and support us on there along with our Instagram page, too. We can't wait to grow this small unit into something big. Thanks!

Juggling Planets YouTube

Official Juggling Planets Instagram

The Zoetrope of Life Spotify Playlist

 

  We have a new playlist that symbolizes the zoetrope Sherbet looks through in the Storyteller's Attic. Zoetrope translates from the Greek - "Wheel of Life". In 1955, Walt Disney demonstrated how this ancient toy worked on his Disneyland episode, "The Story of the Animated Drawing", where Walt taught the audience how imagination becomes a craft beyond motion. In other words, this, in Walt's perspective, was the birth of moving pictures and animation. 

Walt showing the audience how the zoetrope is more than a toy.

  To legendary filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola's perspective, the zoetrope was a symbol of change. Of rebellion. Even for creative freedom. While Coppola was in Europe, brainstorming for his new production company without studio supervision, he visited a Danish filmmaker and collector named Mogens Skot-Hansen. There, Hansen gifted Coppola an antique zoetrope as a token. Inspired and enchanted by the zoetrope's meaning and connecting to his frustrations with corporate Hollywood structures of the times, Coppola decided to name his new company American Zoetrope, symbolizing a way to create "life movement" through indie cinema.  

Francis Ford Coppola directing on set of "The Rain People" in 1968

  For this playlist, this is not only dedicated to Sherbet of the three enchanted kittens, but also to Walt and Coppola themselves for their big help emphasizing the importance of the zoetrope in animation, moviemaking, even storytelling! 

   We've got not only The Beatles and Paul McCartney & Wings, but also Eric Clapton and the Yardbirds, Coldplay, Martina McBride, John Denver, The Monkees, and even Simple Minds with their hit song from the movie, "Breakfast Club", "Don't You (Forget About Me)". 

  More awesome musical playlists to come. Stay tuned for more. And now, observe the magic and wonder through Sherbet's magic zoetrope...

Chapter Two: Enter the Storyteller's Attic and The Path of the Pirate Princess

   Welcome back! Here now is our revised version of chapter two of "Nine Thousand Lives & Counting", once again, AI-free and completely original. Enjoy today's chapter! 

  Shining gloriously in the sky was a rainbow of impossible colors arching gracefully above a castle of polished stone and golden peaks. Knights in gleaming gold armor trotted past on noble steeds, their banners fluttering in the breeze. Villagers — from wealthy to poor — waved cheerfully to one another. There was no division between them, only shared joy.

  And from the castle steps a regal pair emerged, their presence commanding yet gentle. The great king’s kind eyes shone beneath a crown woven from oak leaves, each leaf glinting as though kissed by sunlight. Beside him walked a queen radiant in a gown that shimmered like moonlight on water, her every step so graceful it seemed the ground itself welcomed her.

  The rainbow overhead seemed to bend toward the royal pair, and even the knights paused in their march, lowering their banners in respect. The king raised his hand to greet the day — and the newcomers. His voice was deep and warm, carrying across the courtyard like a familiar melody.

  “Hello, friends!” he greeted. “Welcome to Apple Wood Gardens, where imagination has no boundaries!”

  The queen’s smile was soft, brilliant, and directed wholly at the two teens. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her voice like a lullaby easing the strangeness of the moment.

  “My name is Queen Cindy the Faithful.”

  “And I am King Ralphie the Loyal,” added the king, bowing.

  King Ralphie then gestured for Kerry the Wonderful and Daniel the Fantastic to come forward and greet the two recruits.

  “These are our caretakers,” said Soren. “You’ll like them. They’re extremely polite.”

  “Welcome to the Gardens,” greeted Kerry. “I’m Kerry the Wonderful, and this is my husband, Daniel the Fantastic.”

  Tabitha gracefully leapt into Kerry’s arms. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “Kerry’s not like the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. She’s not even like the witch from Hansel & Gretel.”

Gretel shoving the witch into the oven!

  Kerry scoffed, her eyes flashing with amusement. “I’ve met the Hansel & Gretel witch. I was there when she burned to flames. Served her right for scaring those poor children into a house made of candy.”

  

  “A house made entirely out of candy,” said Daniel the Warlock, shaking his head with theatrical disbelief. “If I were a mortal child, I’d stay far away from something like that. It just screams danger.”

 

   “I’m just glad I was the one who got those little kids back home to their family safe and sound after the demise of that witch,” said Kerry.

Billie Burke as Glinda in "Wizard of Oz"

    “So, in a way — without going into detail,” said Diane, “you’re like Glinda the Good from The Wizard of Oz.”

 

   “In a sense,” said Kerry.

 

   “We’re glad you two are here,” said Daniel. “It’s always wonderful to know there are people out there who still believe in stories beyond imagination.”

 

   “Well,” Mark said, clearing his throat, “many don’t nowadays. Especially the cynical ones who want world domination and stuff like that.”

  “Now, now,” purred Tabitha. “We don’t talk about outside politics here. We’ve got enough drama already.”

 

   “Alright then,” said Kerry. “Follow us to our mansion, and we’ll get started.”

   The witch and warlock — and their kittens — led Mark and Diane to their home, a grand Victorian mansion.

The interior of The Addams Family Mansion

    Inside, the manor was enchanted, just like everything else in the Gardens. It had the unusual charm of the Addams Family mansion — but instead of eerie shadows and cobwebs, everything glowed with warmth and gentle enchantment.

 

 “Well,” said Soren after a moment, “what do you think?”

   “I feel like I’m Alice and I’ve stepped through the magic mirror,” said Diane. “Now I just need to find the talking flowers.”

The Garden of Live Flowers from "Alice"

  “We have those!” said a young child’s voice, bubbling with excitement.

  

  Skipping down the stairs was a little warlock boy and his kid witch sister.

   

    “Hi! I’m Aidan. This is my little sister, Joy. We’re Kerry and Daniel’s son and daughter.”

 

    Aidan gave a proud little bow, his mop of hair bouncing. “We help take care of the Gardens too! Mom and Dad say we’re apprentices.”

 

   Joy nodded vigorously, clutching a teddy bear. “And we know all the secret rooms. Even the ones the grown ups forget about.”

  

   “Secret rooms, huh?” said Mark, intrigued.

  “I sense a little curiosity in that voice,” said a well dressed bunny in a blue jacket, red bowtie, and yellow dress pants. “Hello, you must be the heroes to be. Name’s Charles Tenniel — a wonder creature.”

The March Hare with the Mad Hatter as originally illustrated by John Tenniel

  “You look like… that friend of the Mad Hatter from Alice,” said Diane.

  “My good friend the March Hare,” said Charles with a smile. “Yes, a very loyal friend he is. Delirious, high strung, and of course, mad — but still a wonderful companion. Interesting fact: did you know that’s actually straw on top of his head in the original illustrations? It symbolizes his madness.”

  “Okay, Charles,” laughed Joy. “Save your storybook facts for later. Charles has been with us for a long time.”

  “He’s basically part of our family,” added Aidan. “He teaches us math when Mom and Dad aren’t around, shows us nature and its magical ways, and even tells us amazing stories.”

  “Hopefully, I can still tell those stories,” said Charles. “With your help, Mark and Diane, I might get the chance to share hundreds of thousands of tales again. Anyway — have Kerry and Daniel shown you the Storyteller’s Attic yet?”

 

 “We’re about to,” said Daniel, approaching a large crimson red door with golden yellow etchings. “This is where the adventure starts.”

  “Is there some sort of password to get into this attic?” asked Mark.

 

  “Nah!” said Sherbet. “There’s nothing special you need to access this awesome place. Come on in.”

 

 “Watch your step, please,” said Kerry.

  The attic was humongous — far more enchanted than any regular library. Inside the Storyteller’s Attic stood a massive round globe, not flat — displaying not only the nations of the regular world, but also exotic realms beyond imagination. Nearby, a self writing blackboard scribbled famous quotes from authors, playwrights, and philosophers.

  Portraits of storytellers from many generations lined the walls. Some of them were talking and greeting Mark and Diane as they passed.

  

A.A. Milne & Christopher Robin

   “Why, hello there!” greeted a portrait of A. A. Milne, posing with his young son, Christopher Robin. “Welcome to the Storyteller’s Attic.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

    “Please, look around! But be careful not to break anything,” said a portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson, holding a book about good and evil — the basis of his tale of Jekyll and Hyde.

  The kittens then led Mark and Diane to a giant tree trunk carved into a table at the center of the room. The table was etched with illustrations of dragons, quills, broken hearts, and stars. The chairs around it shifted their shapes subtly, adjusting to whoever drew near.

 

  “Amazing,” said Diane, catching her breath.

  “Now then,” said Tabitha. “The attic holds fragments of countless unfinished stories that are desperate for completion. Each book is like a doorway — but only one will open for you.”

  “Meaning…?” asked Mark, confused.

Ray Bradbury

  “Meaning that the book will not only tell you what it wants, but also show you,” said a portrait of Ray Bradbury, gazing through the cosmos.

 

 “Exactly,” said Sherbet, taking out the first book. “You don’t just read the story… you experience it. Every choice you make will shape the ending.”

Stephen King in front of his former haunted house in Bangor, Maine c. 1982

    “Get the picture?” asked a portrait of Stephen King, holding a copy of ’Salem’s Lot, standing in front of his haunted house in Maine while covered in fake blood. “It’s as if you’re living in the story itself. How great is that.”

 

 “What happens if we fail?” asked Diane.

George Orwell speaking for the BBC

    “Oh, nonsense!” said a portrait of George Orwell, speaking into a BBC microphone. “Highly impossible by your standards.”

Agatha Christie

    “But… if there’s an unlikely chance you do,” said a portrait of Agatha Christie, holding a magnifying glass, “the story remains unfinished. But remember — unfinished does not mean lost for all eternity.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Mark.

  “Positive,” said Soren, as the three kittens’ tails began to glow again. “With us beside you, you will always find a way forward.”

  Lanterns floating above the room began to pulse in unison.

  “That’s our cue,” said Tabitha. “Ready to meet the Pirate Princess and learn about her unfinished story?”

Tabitha gestured to the book entitled The Path of the Pirate Princess. Diane opened it gently. As the book spread open, a gust of wind swept through the attic. The scent of ocean spray filled the room. The lanterns overhead flickered, the pages flipped rapidly, then froze on a single image: a girl with windswept hair, a silver compass in her palm, and a gold pirate skull tiara on her head.

  “That’s Jessica the Pirate Princess,” purred Tabitha, her blue cloak shimmering. “She was brave, clever, and kind. But her tale was interrupted — just before she found the treasure that could save her pirate kingdom.”

  “Well…” said Mark, taking a deep breath. “We’d better get started.”

  “We’d come with you,” said Aidan, “but we’re too little for going on a high risk adventure like this one.”

  “Maybe next time,” said Kerry, patting Aidan on the head.

  “Charles, you must join us,” said Soren. “Stories matter just as you do.”

  “Hey, thanks,” said Charles, hopping over to the book. “Question is… do you really mean that?”

  “If we didn’t invite you,” said Sherbet, “we wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

 

   “Besides,” said Joy, “you tell the greatest stories ever.”

  “That’s true,” said Charles. “Okay, I’m in.”

  “Alright, recruits…” said Kerry. “Good luck, and we’ll be watching out.”

  The enchanted kittens’ tails glowed once more, and with their sophisticated magic, they transported themselves, Mark and Diane, and Charles onto the deck of The Mighty Triton — Princess Jessica’s ship.

  A figure approached from the helm. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a weathered coat and a tricorn hat slightly askew. His beard was streaked with silver, and his eyes held the weight of stories untold.

 

 “Ahoy there!” he greeted, his voice gravelly but kind. “You’re not part of the usual crew.”

 

 “No,” said Mark. “We’re here to finish Princess Jessica’s story.”

 

 The man’s eyes widened. “Jessica Whalen… the Pirate Princess?”

 

 “You knew her?” asked Diane.

  “Knew her?” He chuckled softly. “I was her first mate. Ivan Boxleitner, at your service.”

  He bowed, then straightened, his expression turning wistful. “She was brilliant. Brave. Always one step ahead. But one day, she vanished — right before we reached the final island. The treasure was never found. Her story… it just stopped.”

  Tabitha padded forward. “We’re here to help you find the ending.”

  Ivan looked at the enchanted kittens, then at the teens. “Then you’ll need the map. But be warned — it only reveals itself when the crew is ready to face the truth.”

  Sherbet flicked his magical tail. “We’re ready for anything.”

  Ivan smiled. “Then welcome aboard The Mighty Triton. Let’s find the path Jessica never got to finish. Come closer, mates, and let me tell you something about this map.”

  He unfolded a map that looked blank. He exhaled. “The thing is… without Jessica, the map refused to show itself. It’s bound to the courage of the crew. Only when hearts are steady will the path appear.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Charles. “Maybe our hearts are steady enough to make this map work.”

  Ivan smiled. “Now that’s the optimistic attitude Jessica had. Let’s see if the ocean remembers.”

  The Mighty Triton finally began to sail.

  The deck bustled with activity as Ivan led the heroes and the kittens toward a gathering of sailors.

  “Listen up, crew!” Ivan shouted. “We’ve got newcomers. Treat ’em with respect!”

 

   A tall, wiry man with a white handlebar mustache stepped forward, his coat patched but neat. He gave a brisk nod.

  “Tom Oppenheimer,” Ivan said. “My second in command. Keeps the ship steady when I’m not looking.”

  Tom adjusted his spectacles, eyeing Diane and Mark with suspicion. “Hope you lot can keep up. This isn’t a getaway cruise, you know.”

 

 “We’ll do our best,” said Charles, nodding.

 

 Next came a broad shouldered pirate with a gleaming sword strapped to his hip. He flourished it with theatrical flair, nearly slicing a rope before catching himself.

  “Garth Eastman,” Ivan introduced with a sigh. “Professional swordsman. And professional show off.”

  Garth grinned. “Every ship needs a little drama. Welcome aboard, landfolk.”

  Mark smirked. “Guess you’ve got that covered.”

  Two younger pirates shuffled forward, clearly eager but awkward. One was lanky, with a mop of hair and a nervous smile.

  “Leonard Lipton,” Ivan said.

  Leonard gave a quick salute, then tripped over his own boots. “Sorry! Still learning the ropes. Literally.”

  Beside him waddled a duck hybrid with a jaunty bandana tied around his neck. He quacked cheerfully before speaking.

  “And this is Alex Bailey,” Ivan added.

 

   Alex puffed out his chest. “Junior pirate, loyal buddy, and proud duck. Don’t underestimate the quack.”

  Leonard nodded vigorously. “He’s braver than he looks.”

  Mark chuckled, whispering to Diane, “I think I already like him.”

 

 Finally, a woman stepped forward, her dark braid swinging as she adjusted her belt. Her eyes were sharp, her stance confident.

  “Zarina Whitman,” Ivan said with respect. “The only woman aboard since Jessica vanished.”

 

 Zarina crossed her arms, studying Diane and Mark. “If you’re here to finish Jessica’s story, you’d better be ready. She was more than a princess — she was our captain in spirit.”

  Diane met her gaze, steady and unflinching.

  “Oh, we’re ready,” said Soren. “With us together, nothing can stop us.”

  Ivan took out the map again. For the first time in who knows how long, the map glowed and revealed a path. Islands and coastlines appeared in radiant blue ink. But at the center of the map… a blank space, symbolizing the path Jessica never finished.

  “Right there,” said Ivan, pointing to the unfinished path. “The treasure that’ll save Princess Jessica’s pirate kingdom lies beyond that void. But the map will only reveal the way when the crew’s united.”

 

  Tom Oppenheimer adjusted his glasses, leaning in. “It’s as if the map was waiting for us to discover this.”

   “Or it could be testing us,” said Zarina, thinking hard.

 

 “You think?” asked Garth.

 

 “Hey, wait…” said Leonard, noticing something strange on the map. “Does it usually move like that?”

 

  “Huh?” the three kittens said in unison.

 

 “Let us see,” said Tabitha, pouncing closer. “Quick, everyone — put your hands on the map again.”

 

  Everyone — including the kittens — placed their hands and paws on the mysterious map. Suddenly, glowing golden letters etched themselves across the void space:

 

  “The Isle of Lost Dreams.”

   “Well, I’ll be!” Ivan exclaimed. “That’s the island where stories go to be erased. And worse — where people’s precious dreams and wonders go to be forgotten.”

  

 “That doesn’t sound very welcoming,” said Alex, sounding skeptical.

 

 Tom brushed his mustache and cleared his throat bravely. “We must head to that island. It’s the only way to find out if Jessica’s path ended there.”

  “Alright,” said Charles, clapping his hands. “So, we go to this Lost Dreams Island, then we find Jessica. But there must be a catch.”

  “Only one way to find out, Charles,” said Ivan. “Off to the Isle of Lost Dreams, everybody!”   

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Trio Spotify Playlist

   You're probably wondering if we're still doing Spotify playlists dedicated to these stories. Well, we do! And we've updated one of our old playlists in celebration of returning to The Storyteller's Attic. And we've got a truckload of stars in the lineup. 

  From The Beatles to Wings, to The Cranberries to John Denver, Pat Benatar and Jack Johnson, we've got 'em! (And more to come, too!) 

   This is our first updated playlist we'd like to share as of tonight entitled "The Trio".

The Trio:

1. "Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want" (Instrumental) by The Dream Academy
2. "Strawberry Fields Forever" Take 1 by The Beatles
3. "Linger" by The Cranberries
4. "Mary Had a Little Lamb" by Paul McCartney & Wings
5. "There She Goes" by The La's
6. "Fly Away" by John Denver ft. Olivia Newton John
7. "I Get Around" by The Beach Boys
8. "You Better Run" by Pat Benatar, originally performed by The Young Rascals
9. "I've Had Enough" by Paul McCartney & Wings
10. "Everybody Wants to Be a Cat" from Disney's "Aristocats"
11. "Rockestra Theme" by Paul McCartney & Wings
12. "Magic" by The Cars
13. "Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind
14. "You and Me" by Tiffany (from The Jetsons Movie)
15. "Got to Get You into My Life" by The Beatles
16. "No More Lonely Nights" by Paul McCartney
17. "Stronger Together" from "Miraculous: Ladybug & Cat Noir the Movie)
18. "Real Love" by The Beatles
19. "Questions" by Jack Johnson
20. "Goodbye-Goodbye" by Oingo Boingo (from "Fast Times at Richmond High")

  We can't wait to share more of our favorite music with all of you readers. Until tomorrow, happy reading and happy listening. 

The Trio Spotify Playlist

Chapter One (Revised): Meet the Trio

 NOTE: We don't have any professional illustrations for the stories at this time, except this great drawing of Tabitha done by a friend on Fiverr named Alyssa. To help illustrate the tale for now, we're providing stock and personal photos and screenshots to set the vibes. No AI imagery and/or writing will be used in this version of "Nine Thousand Lives & Counting". Enjoy the first chapter. 

  

   Just who are these enchanted kittens named Tabitha, Soren, and Sherbet — and where exactly did they come from? These three kittens were not born from life itself, but from the night sky among the stars. They were conceived by a great star‑feline creature named Madame Beast, a magical constellation that astronomers and scientists looked to for good omens.

  Because of Madame Beast’s extraordinary care, the star‑kitten trio were each granted nine thousand lives for endurance. And believe it or not, they’ve already used seventy‑six of them. They have wandered across the world through countless generations — from ancient Egypt to the Gilded Age, from the Great Depression to the Summer of Love.

from Disney's "The Great Cat Family", 1956

   Tabitha, for example, was once treated as a goddess in ancient Egypt, where she was offered flowers, fish, and even gold. Thanks to the kittens’ sophisticated magic, she managed to avoid being mummified. As a token of her time as a goddess, she was given a blue cloak as a symbol of her persistence.

   

"Moulin Rouge!", Baz Luhrmann, 2001

    Soren witnessed the Belle Époque of Paris during the 1890s, strolling along the sidewalk cafés of the Champs Élysées and admiring the glamorous fashions worn by the women of the city. He also experienced the vibrant nightlife and impressionist atmosphere of the Moulin Rouge, where he met — and fell in love with — Astrid, a graceful female kitten who belonged to one of the dancers at the cabaret.

    Sherbet experienced the Swinging London days of 1966, taking in the girls’ colorful, eye catching fashion statements and hanging around with teenage boys sporting long, Beatles style haircuts. He danced to the great music of artists who are now considered legends — The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Herman’s Hermits. It was during this time that he discovered his deep love for London’s charm and traditions.

Kerry the Wonderful & Daniel the Fantastic (the writer's parents)

    As for the three kittens’ home, they live in Apple Wood Gardens, where they were adopted by Kerry the Wonderful Witch and her husband, Daniel the Fantastic Wizard. These two were chosen by Madame Beast to look after the kittens because of their good work for the kingdom, their well‑mannered personalities, and their close friendship with the king and queen of the Gardens. Kerry and Daniel, who knew Madame Beast very well, made a solemn promise to care for Tabitha, Soren, and Sherbet with all the love in the universe.

   

    But where our story truly begins is in a more modern setting. The three kittens were sent to a small town in New England called Red Oak Springs, Massachusetts, during the Christmas break of 2013. Their mission was to recruit two worthy humans to help save the famous stories of the Gardens from being erased from existence. Like the world we live in, Apple Wood Gardens was known for its original tales and folklore. But now, a threatening force was casting darkness over the Gardens as the stories began to vanish.

  

   As the snow drifted softly through the winter hush of the New England town, the three enchanted kittens appeared through a glowing blue light. Their small paws kissed the white snow as they strolled along the sidewalks, searching for their soon to be heroes.

 

   “Well, siblings, here we are,” said Tabitha, her voice bright with certainty. “Red Oak Springs, Massachusetts.”

 

  “How can you tell?” asked Sherbet, pouncing through the snow.

 

   “Because, silly,” laughed Soren. “The welcome sign says: ‘Red Oak Springs, Massachusetts. Population: 1,319.’”

  

   “I didn’t need to know the population, Soren.”

 

    “Ah, semantics,” sighed Tabitha, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s go find our two heroes.”

 

    “Wait,” said Soren. “Where should we look first?”

 

    “Soren’s right, sis. We have no idea where to go from here.”

  

   Tabitha looked up at a sign for a café called The Novel Nook, decorated with a picture of a steaming coffee mug and an open storybook. Her little tail glowed as if a lightbulb had flickered on inside her.

  

   “Let’s start here,” she said. “It’s a coffee and book café. Maybe we’ll find some people who believe in stories in there.”

  

   “Good thinking, Tabitha,” said Sherbet.

 

    “Lucky for us,” chuckled Soren. “Pets are allowed in the building.”

 

    Inside The Novel Nook, at least two dozen people — along with their pet puppies and kittens relaxed with cups of coffee, donuts, and good books. At the corner window table sat two best friends, juniors at Robert Zemeckis High School. Their names were Mark Foley and Diane Reese. They were each reading a book while sipping peppermint mochas and eating donuts.

     Mark leaned back in his chair as he read a rare gem by Stephen King called The Eyes of the Dragon. His brow furrowed with concentration, as if he were searching for something between the lines. Diane, reading her worn copy of S. E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, found herself thinking about how someone who believes in stories could change lives.

  

   “Woah,” said Mark, deep in his book.

 

    “What’s up?” asked Diane, looking up from The Outsiders.

  

   “Well, everyone assumes Stephen King only writes horror,” said Mark. “But Eyes of the Dragon is pure fantasy. There’s this prince who escapes from a tower called The Needle and he does it using threads from napkins. I don’t know if you see where I’m going with this.”

  

   “I think I might,” said Diane. “In The Outsiders, the story keeps referencing Gone with the Wind because Ponyboy and Johnny see themselves in those old Southern heroes — even though they’re just kids from the wrong side of town.”

 

    “That would explain why Francis Ford Coppola did homage shots of Gone with the Wind in his film version of The Outsiders,” said Mark. “Anyway, Ponyboy and Johnny were clinging to something noble, the same way Prince Peter was in Eyes of the Dragon.”

  

   “Yeah,” said Diane, taking a bite of her donut. “Who knew it was like that?”

 

    “Probably because stories are the way they get to win,” said Tabitha, as she and her siblings pounced onto Mark and Diane’s table.

  

   “Did those kittens—?” began Diane, startled.

  

   “Speak?” finished Sherbet. “Indeed, we did. Nice to meet you.”

  

   “Where did you come from?” asked Mark.

  

   “We come from an enchanted kingdom where stories breathe and dreams take root,” said Soren. 

   “Apple Wood Gardens. A place hidden in imagination itself.”

  

   Mark and Diane exchanged a skeptical look.

  

   “Uh,” said Diane. “I think we’ve had enough coffee this afternoon.”

  

   “Obviously, our minds are playing tricks on us,” agreed Mark.

  

   “No, no!” said Tabitha, trying to calm them. “You’re not seeing or hearing things. This is really happening.”

  

   “Prove it,” said Mark.

  

   The three kittens nodded to each other, closed their eyes, and swirled their glowing little tails, conjuring their magic. As they did, they hummed a soft, harmonious tune. Suddenly, the café felt invisible. Everything was perfectly still, and the entire room shifted into a shade of sky blue.

 

    “Oh my gosh…” whispered Diane.

  

   “Well, that’s proof enough,” said Mark, now convinced.

  

   The three kittens opened their eyes, their magical tails still swirling.

  

   “Now,” began Tabitha, “observe our magic through the power of our little tails as we reveal the first spark of the journey you are meant to join.”

  

   “Journey?” echoed Mark and Diane.

  

  “Yes,” said Sherbet, as tiny motes of light drifted around the table like fireflies moving in slow motion. 

 
“We have here three stories for you to restore from vanishing.”

  The motes brightened, shifting into shapes as the kittens flicked their tails. One by one, visions unfold fragments of stories on the edge of disappearing.

    

   The glow became a storm tossed sea. A ship rose and fell against towering waves, its sails torn but defiant. On the deck stood a girl with a pirate tiara, her eyes fierce as she steered into the cyclone.

  

   “First, we have The Path of the Pirate Princess,” said Sherbet, his voice ringing like sleigh bells. “A tale of rebellion and courage. But her kingdom of waves grows dim, for without dreamers… her crown will sink beneath the sea.”

  

   

from Brian De Palma's "Blow Out", 1981

   The motes shifted again, forming a flickering reel of film. A shadowy room appeared, cluttered with tapes and old televisions. A sleek black cat prowled across the reels, its eyes gleaming as if guarding a secret.

  

   “The next is The Cat & the Videotape,” said Soren. “A whodunnit of riddles and clues, where truth hides in shadows. Yet the footage unravels, the mystery fades. If forgotten, the crime will remain unsolved forever.”

  The shimmer expanded into a starfield, galaxies spiraling outward. A lone spacecraft drifted among the constellations, its windows glowing faintly. Inside, a young explorer gazed at the infinite, searching for home.

 

 “Finally, there’s Out in Outer Space,” said Tabitha, soft and gentle. “A classic tale of discovery — of belonging among the stars. But its light dims, its stars fall silent. Without memory, the cosmos will close its doors.”

  The visions danced across the café walls — waves crashing, reels spinning, stars burning — until the entire room seemed wrapped in fragile stories. Mark and Diane sat frozen, their books forgotten, as the kittens’ magic pulsed like a heartbeat of imagination.

  “Although,” said Sherbet, “these are only three stories… There’s actually a long list of forgotten tales and lore in our home that need rescue. Now then, you’re probably wondering why we mentioned these three first.”

  “Yeah,” said Mark, still distracted by the magic.

  “Well,” said Tabitha, swirling her tail to gently dim the visions, “these three tales were chosen to test your skills — your belief in stories with heart. And it looks like you both have that.”

  “Think of it like this,” said Soren, flicking his tail. “These stories matter because they’re like anchors. Each one holds a realm together. And when an anchor weakens, the doors close, worlds wander, and the currents turn.”

  “They don’t have to be lost,” said Sherbet. “You two can help us.”

  “Help?” echoed Diane. “How?”

  “Come to Apple Wood Gardens with us,” said Tabitha, her voice full of determination and promise. “We’ll explain everything there.”

  “Okay, one,” said Mark. “We have homework over Christmas break. And two, how are we supposed to get to your home world?”

 

 “To answer your first question,” said Sherbet, “when you return, it’ll be like you never left at all. And as for the second — if you trust us and our magic, you’ll see how we’ll get there.”

  Mark and Diane exchanged a long look — the kind that held a thousand unspoken questions. The weight of choice settled between them like falling snow.

  “I want to help,” said Diane quietly. “But it sounds risky.”

  

  “If you ask me,” said Mark, “maybe we should do it. I’ve always wanted to go on a storybook adventure since I was a kid.”

  Diane frowned. “But we’re sixteen. This isn’t kindergarten anymore.”

Sir J.M. Barrie

  Tabitha cleared her throat. “Excuse me, if I may interject… Do you know the name Sir J. M. Barrie? He’s the man behind the stories of Peter Pan and Neverland. Sir Barrie once said, ‘We might be boys and girls all our lives.’”

  “Your point?” asked Diane.

  “We must remember our inner child,” said Tabitha. “Remember our fascination with wonder and magic.”

  “I think this kitten has a point, Diane,” said Mark, feeling the first impulse of adventure spark inside him.

  “Hmm,” Diane murmured, thinking it over. “Well… I can’t say no to that, in all honesty. When do we start?”

  “We can start right now,” said Soren. “Oh, silly us! We haven’t introduced ourselves yet. My name’s Soren.”

   “I’m Tabitha.”

  “And my name’s Sherbet.”

   Mark and Diane stood from their seats and followed the three kittens to the far corner of the café, where the kittens prepared to create a magical doorway to Apple Wood Gardens.

 

  “So…” began Mark. “Enchanted kittens, huh? How else are you special enough to be enchanted?”

 

  “Believe it or not,” said Tabitha, “we have nine thousand lives.”

  “And we’ve only used seventy‑six of them!” added Sherbet proudly.

  “Well,” said Mark, his mouth falling open, “that’s another question answered.”

  

   “Then that makes you three immortals,” said Diane.

   “Exactly,” said Soren, as the kittens lifted their tails, curling them like quills poised above parchment to create the portal. “We’ll tell you about our past lives later.”

  “…and… done!” said Sherbet as the doorway shimmered into existence. “Okay, the doorway will only open if all five of us are together. Got it?”

  “Do we need to hold hands?” asked Mark.

 

  “Nah!” said Soren. “No need to be formal. Come on, let’s get going.”

  The kittens touched their tails together as they stepped forward. A soft hum rippled through the air — gentle at first, like a distant violin string being plucked. Then the lights spiraled downward in a slow, graceful swirl, wrapping around the group like a golden ribbon. The floor beneath their feet shimmered, turning into shifting Technicolor hues.

 

 “Do not be afraid,” said Tabitha. “The path between worlds is gentle.”

  The light rose around them in a warm, weightless rush. The snowy street of Red Oak Springs dissolved into swirling gold, and the world shifted beneath their feet.

   TO BE CONTINUED...