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...