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Hey everyone. Happy Halloween! Welcome to TaleTeller, the podcast where ordinary people talk about seeing extraordinary things.

Each post will have a video accompanied by a recorded drawing of the astounding thing that was seen.

The debut episode is Spotting the Mermaid, my story of the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Please let me know your thoughts and enjoy!

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

The Legend of Mr. Snatchum

A boy accidentally finds the creature that all monsters dread, Mr. Snatchum, the legendary gobbler of fiends.

Part 1: Prologue

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hey everyone. I’m back with a new section I’m calling: Tales of The Unemployed.

Full disclosure: like many, I’m currently unemployed and looking for a job, and decided it might be fun to post some of the stranger but true stories that yes, REALLY happened to me over the years during employment gaps that my friends like to hear me tell.

Let me know how you like these!

Kevin

Have you ever been almost murdered at a final interview? Me either. Until I almost was.

It began in a completely normal and innocent way. A recruiter contacted me (as recruiters do.) The recruiter (henceforth known as my recruiter) had a job for me they thought I matched up with well.

The company was willing to pay a decent amount, the product they were selling was interesting--worth the next steps. So I went through the usual hierarchy of interviews: HR, check; future already entrenched coworker, A.K.A. my counterpart, check; The VP of Sales whom I’d report to, check. The place was okay, but the location was a bit sketchy.

This opportunity had that bad juju feel to it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, because I really liked the people I met with. Anyway, I was young in my career, needed a job, and really jived with the VP, which is always critical.

Landing the job seemed like it was going to be a slam dunk. The VP had given me the verbal “I was his guy,” but he had a work trip to complete, and while he was away there was one last step I needed to complete before getting things sewn up with HR: “The owner wants to meet you, go introduce yourself and get welcomed into the family! Let’s start killing it when I get back!”

On the day of the interview/greeting meeting, I got an unexpected call from my recruiter. “Hey, I’d really like to go with you and introduce you to the owner, if that’s okay. It’s just something we like to own and see through.”

It struck me as a bit odd to be introduced in person to the owner of a business neither of us had met before, but I went with it as it seemed little harm could come from it. We were at the window dressing phase, I thought.

Now I know better.

“Okay,” I said, “see you there.”

The business was located in one of the two major armpit sections of our town. I called it an armpit because like tangled, unsightly hair, super highway ramps crisscrossed one another at all possible angles, looming over a maze of industrial warehouses surrounded by tall, imposing barbed-wire fences. My supposed future office building was wedged between a warehouse where a small army of welders were always spraying up a forest of sparks next door like they were building the world’s largest ship. (Perhaps they were.)

On the other side was a lumber yard stacked so high with wood a devastating timbre avalanche seemed imminent.

I dressed accordingly in my suit and waited for the recruiter to arrive in the parking lot.

When they arrived, the recruiter casually briefed me again on how they intended to introduce me and I said fine, but my gut now had alarm bells going off. Still, I was convinced this was just a formality, albeit an awkward one.

We stood outside a colorless reinforced door with a surveillance camera overhead that looked like it would most likely lead us to Area 51.

We rang, and old-school looking doorbell lit up in neon urine.

“Yeah?” a speaker to the side of the door asked us in an impatient sounding tone.

“Oh, uh…hi! We’re here for a quick meeting with the owner. It was arranged by the VP,” my recruiter said.

The metal on the door gave an irritated sounding buzz like it didn’t like being bothered, as a giant bolt made a SLOCK! sound as it unlocked. My recruiter eagerly yanked open the door, their face spreading into a much too wide smile that looked borderline manic.

The reception area was deathly quiet and dark, with long shadows swallowing the adjacent corridor. It was like the atmosphere in spooky movies or video games where something awful always comes scuttling around the corner.

I heard a long sigh before I saw them. Them, because, padding around the corner in the lead came the largest Doberman pincer I’d ever seen. I’m a dog lover. I didn’t love this one. It had the air like it was a couple heads taller than me and that wasn’t far off from the truth. I thought of Cujo if Cujo had been a guard dog. Worse, Cujo sniffed at the air and sized us up, carefully creeping forward like he might have been sent to get rid of any possible intruders.

The guard dog stopped about ten feet short of us and sat, lightning-bolt alert with both ears straight up, awaiting possible orders. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh,” my recruiter more or less gasped.

As if all part of the grand entrance—which it obviously was—out confidently strode the owner.

He had an astonishing forehead that jutted out, easily arriving before he did, almost like a polished bookshelf. A greasy, disintegrating mullet carpeted the few areas his forehead didn’t occupy. His forehead reflected the little light there was in the room and made the giant ones on Mt. Rushmore look like they were made of silly putty.

“Who you people again?” Boss Forehead asked us once more like he might have just woken up, even though we had identified ourselves at the door. His eyes were naturally shaded by his swollen dome and in a permanent squint as if perhaps someone in his line had once mated with a ferret. His rodent eyes glinted from the recruiter to me like we were uninvited door to door salespeople.

Worse, I noticed he had his hand resting on top of a holstered handgun!

Things got blurry for me for a second. Reality did not compute. This guy, my ultimate boss to be open carried and brought his attack dog to work?

Most definitely NOT reading the room, my recruiter jumped in like it was time for us to pitch our product on Shark Tank.

“Oh, Boss Forehead,”—okay they didn’t really say that, but it would have cooler if they had. “Mr. Owner, I’m here and thrilled to present to you, your newest shining star in your wonderful organization, KEVIN COFFEY,” and they threw their arms my way in a sweeping, grand gesture as if I might now levitate or Boss Forehead was supposed to hand me an Academy Award.

Yikes.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said at this point with all the energy of a blown tire. I made zero attempt to shake his hand and barely made eye contact.

“Don’t need no sales guy cain’t introduce himself,” Boss Forehead grunted with enough southern twang to spook a banjo. And with that, he spun around, and shuffled away.

If a dog could shrug, Cujo did so, then instantly caught up to his master’s side, and they disappeared around the corner.

“Uh, what just happened?” My recruiter said, mouth ajar, still half-frozen in their grandiose presentation gesture, now well-deprived of color (we both were), obviously slipping into shock.

“He just kicked us out, that’s what. We need to leave,” I said with an urgent sense of calm.

I opened the door, motioning for my recruiter to stop lingering and exit, not giving Boss Forehead any opportunity to label us as intruders and deal with us. Hey, it was Texas and it was a privately owned business. House rules. For all I knew, we could have been ground up into one of his products and sold on the free market. I might have become the ultimate cautionary tale for sales teams.

We made a safe but swift escape and decompressed at a nearby coffee shop (but not too nearby), but there was nothing more to be done. There was nothing about the situation to save.

The poor VP of the Boss’ company was beyond shocked and embarrassed to find out instead of coming back to carve out an attack plan with me (his newest shining star), he now had to start his search from scratch and face probable tension and backlash from a heavily armed and well defended Boss Forehead.

The good news for me? My recruiter had done me a favor. That job was most definitely NOT the one that got away!

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hey everyone. Happy Friday!

We’re on the last few chapters. More coming soon once I finish things up.

Until then, stay well and enjoy!

—KC

Jimmy figured the fall would kill him. He’d never wake up from the Lurking dropping him from such a ridiculous height in the sky. No, all that would be left of him was an awful eyesore permanently (and literally) stuck to the throne.

So, Jimmy was amazed when he found himself crouched on the edge of a cliff. He blinked again. Still here.

Even weirder, Lem was staring up at him, her face frozen in apparent complete terror. He’d never seen her so scared. Is this real? Jimmy asked himself. It felt like another living dream, yet here he was in the flesh. Uh oh. Some kind of sleepwalking episode again? he asked himself.

Worse: he was holding Lem over the edge of the cliff like he’d drop her.

Let her go! Dromon hissed, his recurring nightmare’s voice swirling around inside of Jimmy’s head.

Without his insides feeling hollowed out, unable to generate any kind of human emotion, Jimmy let go of Lem.

“NO!” Burks yelled just behind him.

The netting connected to the dreamcatcher saddle flew overhead and draped over Lem as she started to fall and pulled her back, slamming her into Jimmy. Jimmy fell with his sister and collapsed away from the edge.

Jimmy shook out of his emotionless daze while being tied up by Lem and Burks. Both were frantically cinching up knots, binding his arms and legs using the ropes of the dreamcatcher from Sinsul’s severed saddle. Jimmy just smiled as if he were pleasantly overmedicated. Here, but NOT here. What was going on?

In a new development, Jimmy felt his body radiate with strength and power—he decided to test it out. Jimmy flexed and grinned as the ropes strained, erupting in small explosions of dust fragments.

His family stared at him with terrified eyes, and he liked it—a new kind of respect. The ropes would be easy to break when he wanted them to, but he didn’t want to let on too much. Not just yet. So he relaxed. “So… what’s going on?” he asked Lem. It was (mostly) an honest question.

“Shut up, you little punk.” Lem scowled and lifted her foot like she wanted to kick him in the face.

Then Lem set her foot back down. She checked on Charley and Francis, who sat side by side in evident confusion and fear. They didn’t seem to like Jimmy’s energy at all as they kept their distance.

“The Lurking’s throne stabbed you when you fell on top of it,” Burks explained to Jimmy. “I believe it poisoned you and made you a scary sleepwalker capable of doing horrible things.”

“Then he was stabbed a long time ago.” Lem wandered off by herself and sat. Charley followed, standing guard by his master. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rocked herself gently with Charley leaning into her body, nuzzling her.

Keeping a healthy distance away, Francis sat, viewing Jimmy with evidently distraught, widening eyes.

As if hallucinating as Burks indicated he might be, Jimmy experienced the surreal: a thin white span of an arch grew out of the edge of the cliff into the nothingness. It appeared to be made of the purest white marble, as it gleamed across the darkness without rails or support ropes until it disappeared from view into the gloom. Black vapors from the abyss clawed at the sides of the bridge as if desperate to make a solid purchase but instead instantly evaporated as if the bridge was so clean it could incinerate anything remotely unpure upon contact. The picky span kept itself cleaner than Sinsul’s stormy fur once did.

“The Bridge of Good Measure—It found us!” Burks whispered. “Talk about lousy timing.”

“Bugger us. How exactly are we supposed to get across with Jimmy in this condition?” Francis asked.

Jimmy took exception to his pet’s comment. “It’s quite rude to talk about someone right in front of their face, you know,” Jimmy scowled. What was his cat thinking?

Lem looked up at the bridge, scowled, and looked back down. “Maybe we don’t,” she said.

“I have a strong back; I’ll take him across,” Charley offered with enthusiasm. The dog snatched the reins of the bulky saddle up in his mouth and dragged Jimmy a few paces in demonstration. “See?”

Jimmy spilled onto his side and cursed the dog under his breath.

Charley dropped the reins and dipped his head, deeply wounded. “I forgive you.”

“Forgive him? Not likely,” Lem huffed. She hopped to her feet and pivoted on the cliff’s rocky surface. Her battered flip-flops let out a shriek as she turned back to him.

Lem grabbed Jimmy by the chin.

Feeling spunky, Jimmy tried to bite off her fingers, but she pinched his chin, keeping his bobbing head still. “Look at me.”

Jimmy drilled holes through his sister feeling amped with hate. He expected her to rear her fist back.

She didn’t. Instead, she lightly placed her hand on the crown of his head in the most gentle way she had ever touched him. “Look… I—I’m sorry,” Lem said.

“You’re… sorry?”

“Well, yeah. Sorry for tossing you into The Place and… well, breaking your spaceship.”

Jimmy paused, downright drowning in confusion. This was too much. Her apology didn’t hit him the right way. His stress caused Jimmy’s muscles to flex, and the ropes once more creaked with strain, as if crying out in pain at his strength.

Lem wrinkled her brow, confused. “Why are you still tweaking? I said I was sorry.”

“Oh. My mistake. You’re such a pure-hearted soul.” Jimmy jerked his head at the marble span. “Go ahead then! Let’s see you put your feet on that bridge first, and let’s find out what it thinks about you!”

“Dude, settle down,” Burks said, putting an awkward gauntlet on his sweaty shoulder.

“But I’m not done! Get these stupid ropes off of us!” Jimmy screamed.

“Us?” Burks asked.

Maybe a legit question, but Jimmy meant what he said. Burks wasn’t part of him anymore. Jimmy strained, and the ropes shed another spray of fibers, about to snap. A couple of feathers detached and floated off the saddle. “She needs to know how she made me feel.” Jimmy easily slipped Burks’ grip and jumped to his feet like a well-trained ninja, delighting in the shock it seemed to give them to see him easily bearing Sinsul’s extra-large saddle without much effort.

Jimmy moved close to Lem, handling the weight and bulk of the saddle with surprising—and evidently disturbing to everyone else—ease. Jimmy gritted his teeth. “I don’t need hands to finish the job.”

Burks jumped on Jimmy’s back as if to stop him, but it was as easy as fending off an annoying gnat, trying again and again to grab him and pull him back, but his daydream was weak, and easily cast aside.

Charley too bit and pulled at Jimmy’s ropes, so he had to turn and kick the dog’s front leg, causing it to bend the wrong way.

Charley yelped in apparent pain, and limped away.

“Jimmy! How could you hurt an innocent animal?” Lem scolded him. “It’s like you don’t even care.” Tears beaded in his sister’s eyes, and she slowly shook her head back and forth.

Jimmy leaned close to her ear. “I don’t even like you anymore.”

Tears continued to leak from Lem’s eyes, and her lips trembled.

“Where were you when Bucky and Clayton permanently humiliated me?” Lem’s eyes widened. “You did nothing. Why?”

“I… I didn’t know how much—”

Infuriated, Jimmy got even closer to his hated big sister and bumped into her. This time she didn’t fight back.

His sister’s flip-flops slipped on the icy surface, and he checked her again.

Charley whined in desperation as she slid backward against her will.

Jimmy lowered his shoulder and barged into her chest, spinning her closer to the edge again. He let her stand there on the edge, feeling the danger before stating, “Oh, I cursed you, too.”

Lem regarded him like he was a stranger or part alien.

“That’s right. You slumped down like a rag doll.” Jimmy laughed, the saddle strapped around his frame shook in rhythm with his body. “You asked me to curse you. Do you believe that? But I saved you. It was silly.” Jimmy frowned, shaking his head. “It was stupid. But I’ll correct that now.” He stormed toward her, intent on watching her fall a long way.

A snort burst from behind them, coming from way above their heads, but it had the effect of a blast from a shotgun. Jimmy stopped cold, skidding to a halt and whirled around, craning way up.

Nobody moved.

Not there just moments before, an immense cloud of writhing black shadows flanked their position on the solitary cliff. From within the uppermost depths down came another snort and huff.

And then Sinsul’s neigh. The cloud drifted closer to them.

Sinsul, or whatever this new monster was, neighed again, this time so close that what must be the horse’s hot breath singed Jimmy’s skin.

Hot breath?

Thrusting his neck through the veil of serpentine shadows, the once-again gigantic Sinsul revealed himself, towering over them. But this was not their once tame and helpful friend—not by a long shot.

Restless smoke clung like a murder of crows to the warhorse’s iron-black face and neck. The horse’s once icy pupils smoldered and pulsed blood-orange.

Jimmy’s once boiling veins turned frosty. He regarded his bindings with a surprised, startled conscience. Why was he all tied up like a prisoner? He felt more fear about what he might have done than for the nightmare threat looming over them.

The horse plucked Jimmy up by the ropes of the dreamcatcher tied around him and reared, causing all of Jimmy’s blood to drain to his face. The side of the nightmare’s shadowy face that touched the netting turned white.

“No!” Lem jumped and wrapped her arms around Jimmy’s ankles at the last second.

Burks also dove for the trailing stirrup ladder but missed horribly and face-planted on the ground.

The former warhorse charged straight for the cliff’s edge, no doubt meaning to toss them both over.

Rolling to his feet and barking, Charley gave chase and then started limping, only able to run on three good legs.

Lem scrambled up Jimmy like a ladder until she rested on her brother’s chest, just beneath the horse’s mouth.

“Lem, what are you—”

She ignored him, tugging like crazy at the rope in Sinsul’s boiling mouth. She tried to throw a loose portion of the netting over Sinsul’s head but missed because of all of the jostling.

Lem eyed the ledge closing in, and face to face with the nightmare, she took a deep breath and plunged her arms elbows deep into Sinsul’s steaming nostrils.

Lem screamed in evident pain, but true to her stubborn self, wouldn’t budge.

Sinsul shook his head, probably more in irritation, forced to open his mouth to breathe, and Jimmy lobbed off to the side and rolled to a stop, close to Burks.

Distracted and probably annoyed, Sinsul refused to pull up until he skidded at the edge of the cliff. Still stuck on the nightmare horse’s face, Lem smiled at Jimmy with relief when she realized he was clear of danger.

Sinsul grinded to a halt. His head whipped forward—and Lem lost her hold on the shadowy horse.

“I love you,” Lem said as she sailed over the ledge of the cliff and was gone!

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“NO!!” Jimmy’s soul numbed over. His heart turned solid like a massive stone—a weight he could no longer bare. Every inch of his body quaked and trembled, like he’d burst. He struggled to free an arm from the entangled dreamcatcher and wrestled his way to his feet. He attempted to go at Sinsul with his bare hands, but someone held him back. Burks.

“No, Jimmy. Not wise—he’ll kill you!” pleaded his Recurring Daydream.

“Let me go,” Jimmy said. “I’ll kill him!”

Sinsul snorted, spitting out fuzzy strands of frayed rope, and whirled.

Charley sprinted past them on his three good legs toward Sinsul with a snarl. The brave dog wanted revenge too, very much opposite of his usual happy-go-lucky nature.

Surprising himself again with an action that didn’t seem his own, Jimmy intercepted the dog, grabbing a handful of collar. He braced his arm and the pooch yelped at being yanked off his feet.

“No, Charley, he’ll kill you,” Jimmy said. “Burks is right. Nobody else dies.”

A spiteful snort caused Jimmy to spin around and yell.

Sinsul’s vicious teeth—no longer icicles, but black needles as hard as bone—clamped down on Burks’ helmet.

They were seized and throttled side to side by a crazy force, sprawling backward in a pile as Burks’ helmet was torn off his head.

Sinsul chewed and spit out strands of the helmet’s ripped-off mop for a plume and punted the shell away with a hoof.

The vacuum cleaner helmet cruised through the air until Francis dodged it as it clattered onto the bridge beside him and settled perfectly upright. The cat gawked at them from the foot of the pearly white bridge, which might as well be hundreds of miles away from here. At least one of them had managed to get away.

The black charger sucked in his sides.

“He’s going to breathe on us!” Jimmy exclaimed.

Despite his lame front leg, Charley sprinted away at top speed with Jimmy still holding onto the dog’s collar and to Burks by his belt with his other hand. The knight weighed next to nothing aside from his remaining bits of armor.

Black fire melted the patch where they just were, torching everything it touched—snow, ice, and rock.

Sinsul whipped his head up and pursued. He was on them in a second and cut them off as they all arrived at the Bridge of Good Measure at the same time.

Sinsul rose on his hind legs like a bear.

“Scatter!” Jimmy shouted.

In the corner of his eyes, he spotted shapes diving as everyone got out of the way—everyone but Burks.

Sinsul’s fiery breath roasted Jimmy’s daydream on the spot.

The black flames incinerated the armor into instant flakes and powder, blending with the black snow and ice. There was nothing left.

Charley dragged Jimmy up onto the Bridge of Good Measure while Sinsul stamped at Burks’s ashes.

Sinsul made no attempt to follow them. He kept a respectable distance from the bridge, glowering at Jimmy and the animals in tense, frozen silence.

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hey everyone. A cheerful welcome to my new followers! Hope this finds everyone well enough. We had some arctic weather in Texas last week that did a number on our schedule and some of our trees. No complaints though as some friends are still without power.

See you again soon!

—KC

With Mr. Stump in flames, Francis and Charley sprung awake, blinking like crazy and scrambling in all directions.

The Broken Dreams behind the wall and in front of it freaked out and seemed like they would trample each other to death in their panic and confusion.

Jimmy moved in slow motion, like he’d been drugged with something to make him sleep. He wanted to stand triumphant and boast about destroying the warped old tree, but in truth, his insides felt as rough and rotten as Mr. Stump’s bark.

“Come on,” Burks said to him, patting his shoulder with urgency. “We need to get everyone out of here!”

Jimmy said nothing, almost completely out of it, just letting Burks lead him by the arm.

Sinsul gathered up Francis and helped up Lem. “Mmm.” He nudged them with urgency.

Jimmy followed, ambling after them like a trained zombie.

Crumbling bark tumbled all around him as the haggard old tree was roasted. The choking odor of black smoke and burning wood was everywhere and made it hard to breathe for their group.

Lem ducked a flaming piece of bark and coughed through the invasion of black smoke. “Where do we—get out of here? This old tree won’t last long.”

“Neither will we if we keep breathing smoke!” wheezed Francis.

Charley raised his head. “There!” He pointed with his nose at a shadowy mass of Broken Dreams escaping through a far opening. Pointy tails sporting jittery rattles hurtled through an exit.

“Jump!” yelled Sinsul. The warhorse latched onto each member of his group with his teeth, shoving them through the opening one by one.

They slid down a winding, hollow tube that hadn’t been devoured by flames yet and spilled out onto blackened sand. They hurried away from the chaotic hive of panicked Broken Dreams fleeing in all directions.

As they ran from the stump, towering flames ruled the sky behind them. Mr. Stump wailed and wailed. It seemed Jimmy had delivered the deathblow to the poor Dreaming Tree this time.

Deep regret and sadness filled Jimmy up. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the shadow of the burning tree. There was no answer.

They jogged east along the root—now with black smoke pouring out of its seams—just as the bitter old tree had instructed. After running for forever and a day with everyone having to cover their faces, the smoke thinned, and the trees and grass gave way to sand and desert.

Not only did the stump’s gigantic root point like an arrow in the right direction, but it held water for them, which was appreciated by the thirsty group. That explained why the roots didn’t burn like the rest of the tree; they contained enough water to keep the flames at bay—for now.

A giant plume of black smoke filled the sky where the skocean once was visible. They took a breather to tap the root again for their water break, but had to wait for the water to cool before drinking it.

Jimmy shook his head, still in shock. “Why did that crazy old stump try to kill me?”

Lem stepped forward and nudged her brother. “Gee, I wonder. Better question: What’s the deal with your evil friend back there? Why is he suddenly popping up and helping us? What do you really know?”

“I’m not sure,” Jimmy shrugged.

“He’s ignorant of how devastating and cruel that one is,” Burks said, defending him. “But he sees it now, don’t you?” Burks almost pleaded.

“Let’s just keep going,” Jimmy grunted. He didn’t want to get into this now with any of them. They didn’t understand him. Never had. Never would.

They left the monumental root behind and crossed into deserted badlands. There was nothing but shifting sand and carnivorous-looking rocks—no trees or grass anywhere. The wind screamed an evil tune as they pushed against it, inching closer to its source. Flying sand cut into their faces and stung their eyes. Jimmy and Lem suffered the worst of it on their bare, soft skin. Sand dunes rolled before them and broke like waves, forcing them to wade through a blizzard of grains.

Too tired to do anything but trudge the tough hike to get where they needed to go, they had to throw all their weight to fight across the sandstorm and reach the base of a rough, sheer cliff. The slope’s steep grade made Mathematics Mountain comparable to a soccer field.

In the whipping air, Jimmy lifted his head and made out a jagged shape draped in shadows looming overhead.

“That’s got to be the Lurking’s mountain,” Jimmy yelled over the wind.

Charley took up rear guard, hopping behind in their plowed paths, while the silly Burks huffed and puffed beside him like a machine running on a low battery.

They climbed with excruciating slowness up and up the unforgiving, steep mountain. The winds grew more rabid—moaning, howling, and scratching furiously at them, threatening to bite and freeze them for an eternity.

As they reached higher altitudes, the sand turned into a dark blanket that crunched with each step.

Jimmy scooped up a handful of frozen black particles. He dropped it just as quickly, brushing his palms together. “This sand burns a little, but on the inside.”

“Not sand; it’s shadow snow,” Burks said.

“This stuff is snow?”

“Yeah,” Burks said. “We kind of invented it. Do you remember painting that picture of a really messed-up landscape?”

“Sort of,” Jimmy muttered, not really wanting to dredge up anymore wrongdoings his imagination might have caused.

They trudged for long stretches in silence, following Sinsul and Charley—who had to be in the lead, of course—they staggered up to the top of a rising ridge that leveled out. Everywhere Jimmy glanced, spiky points surrounded them, their jagged peaks draped in shadow snow. Not far above them and appearing to lower as they ascended the crag, the once again fully intact skocean’s waves writhed to and fro.

From time to time, actual words—and not nice ones—told them off from within the mix of the wind and roaring surf of the ocean in the sky. We’re getting closer to Bucky Brees’ lair all right, Jimmy thought.

Sinsul was more than in his element and the only one of them even a little adaptable. He was missing his huge size and bulk, but none of his might or attitude. The miniature warhorse glided out onto the breeze more than once, like a wary eagle, circling the mountain to check for the enemy.

Jimmy transferred Francis to his front pouch because the charcoal snowflakes fell so thick and fast he had to continually dump his hood.

The bad weather ate at them as Jimmy and Lem had runny noses, and Charley kept sneezing, too. The going got even slower as they waded through yet even more drifts of piled-up burning black snow. The cold became thicker and heavier, making each step more difficult. Jimmy wriggled his toes to make certain they were still there. Some of the drifts stood tall and cut dark shapes destined to fall and bury them in mini-avalanches. Jimmy had to admit their luck had held out so far. Other than the annoying winds, and crazy hard climbing, there was no sign of the air bully.

When Sinsul stopped them and motioned at something with his hoof, Jimmy stopped to inspect two lonely and crooked snow columns. Jimmy led them around the columns, with everyone on high alert.

They stepped out of the packed snow onto a rocky shelf that gave an instant vertigo-inducing view of the world from a thousand feet above the ground.

“Uh… don’t think this is a mountain,” Burks chattered.

“No. It’s a path suspended in the air that keeps going way up above us and below us—I designed this, too,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly. “In one of my made-up adventures, I thought it would be cool to have a path made of stone, carved out of a mountain that leads the way up.”

“Yeah, real cool,” Lem snapped, her arms draped around Sinsul’s neck, and despite all sound logic, wouldn’t stop looking down.

Off the sides, patches of flat darkness appeared every once in a while—Meird’s landscape far, far below. How far? No way for Jimmy to tell. The spirited wind shoved at them like it was intentionally trying to push them off the path from every side. Yet again, Bucky Brees’ vibe for certain. They had to keep low as they dug in and climbed. Breath rattled in their chests and grew thin with lack of oxygen as they ascended higher.

Lem shivered and chattered her teeth uncontrollably just like Jimmy. She performed weird stretches, like she might freeze in place if she didn’t move. Sinsul continued to help Lem out by carefully ushering her up the impossible slope.

Why am I doing okay, and she’s not? Jimmy wondered. He wasn’t really struggling with anything other than his attitude.

They scrambled over a snowy mound that reminded Jimmy of the watchful riddling sphinx he bested.

And at its peak intensity, the weather instantly calmed.

No wind. No snow.

Even the air was now breathable. Without realizing it, they had arrived at the top of the path. And at the peak of the challenging path, silhouetted against the skocean’s foamy spray, loomed something awful. Perching on a jutting rock like an eagle’s eyrie was a throne made entirely of a motley collection of giant teeth.

And there, gleaming at the end of an armrest made of interwoven tusks: rested the yellow fang!

Jimmy raised his hand, signaling his group to stop. Something was up. Too easy. Too simple.

Burks made a slashing motion, drawing his hand across his throat. Either he was announcing his imminent doom, or he found the ridiculously easy to find fang fishy, too.

Jimmy pointed to Sinsul, then to the throne, and cupped his ear. Anything? he mouthed.

Sinsul cocked his head like he was listening, his pale ears flickered. He shook his head, discouraged.

Jimmy took Francis out of his belly pouch and placed him on Sinsul’s saddle, in front of Lem. The cat cowered at being out in the open again. For once, Lem caved regarding her dog only policy on animals and scooped up the cat, cradling him in her arms.

Jimmy pointed to Sinsul again and gave him the stop sign with his hand to stay. He pointed to Burks, then his sheath, and motioned for him to follow.

Burks nodded, and together, they drew the sword, which took an eternity to show itself, but made no noise.

Jimmy pointed to Lem to stay with Sinsul, and she grabbed his arm, holding his gaze. Be careful, she mouthed. Her actions made Jimmy hesitate, but he nodded.

Jimmy and Burks approached the lonely throne of teeth like they were about to disarm a bomb. Jimmy poked the yellow fang with the point of their blade.

Solid…it didn’t give or cave in.

Jimmy held his breath. Now came the brave part. He acknowledged Burks with a nod, then bit his lip. They plunged the sword true and hard just beneath the fang, guessing where the Lurking’s neck might be if he were playing his invisible game.

They horribly whiffed on nothing but air and fell, crunching on the shadow snow. “Not here!” Jimmy whispered. Then he frowned.

So the fang was apparently real and set into the throne as if part of the deadly collection. Still too easy. Where did the Lurking go off to rest? Being invisible, who knew?

Jimmy took in a deep breath and pulled up his sleeve, ignoring the frigid conditions. Jimmy cautiously brushed the gathered shadow snow off the fang and wrapped his hand around the fang’s base.

Jimmy pulled, but the tooth wouldn’t give. He pulled harder. Come on. The tiny, saw-like edges of the oversized tooth bit into Jimmy’s palm, but it remained stuck fast. He pulled harder, cutting his hands.

“Tsssssk, tssssk,” sighed the fang he was holding.

“Yeeaaahh!” Against his will, Jimmy’s wrist flailed, and his arm stiffened and lifted like it was possessed; then his whole body flew into the air. Jimmy’s hand was yanked free of Burks’ and his sword, leaving them far below.

That explained the lack of wind or snow up here. The Lurking couldn’t risk giving himself away. Jimmy cursed his stupidity.

“But we stabbed you with the blade!” Jimmy pleaded.

“There’s no s-slicing the wind, s-silly” the Lurking replied, his face somewhere close. The arctic weather kicked back in, as if by a switch. Black sleet and snow burned down on them like scalding ash. The Lurking’s winds howled to life again, with wild breezes whipping in all directions.

Like he was on his own private staircase, the Night Terror scrambled up the air currents, dangling Jimmy over the lethal throne. The Lurking cruelly juggled Jimmy to another hand and then another. A white ring formed around Jimmy’s wrist, from the Lurking’s way-too-tight grip.

“Want to ssssit down, wittle Weve?” the wind teased in its beefed-up version of Bucky’s voice. The Lurking’s domed head and mole-like dark eyes came in and out of view in the blinding sleet, along with rows of prickly teeth and, of course, his notorious yellow fang.

With a terrified Lem and Francis still on his back white-knuckling and clawing the dreamcatcher ropes to stay on, Sinsul squealed and charged, but the Lurking’s downward gusts pushed the diminished horse down, effectively grounding him. The fierce warhorse tried to take off again and again, but in his shrunken state, the winds easily suppressed him once again. Sinsul gave a frustrated whinny, reduced to a helpless bystander.

“You let my little brother go!” Lem demanded, waving a fist at the Lurking.

“S-s-shure about that?” the Lurking responded.

Jimmy free fell about ten feet before he was caught with a violent jerk. The jolt caused Jimmy to involuntarily slam his teeth together, sure he cracked a molar.

“No!” Lem screamed.

Using the wind like an insane puppeteer, the Lurking jerked Burks’ sword out of his surprised grip, and in a series of quick thrusts and slashes, Sinsul’s saddle hung by only a thread of netting.

For one menacing blip, a dangerous orange spark replaced the blue one in Sinsul’s eye. The horse swelled like a shadowy illusion, and the dreamcatcher saddle grew with him, blowing like a torn giant cobweb in the wind.

Sensing Sinsul’s change happening beneath her feet, Lem screamed, and Francis yowled, taking shelter on her shoulders as Lem clenched the flapping saddle for dear life.

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Lem and then Charley got tangled in the fluttering ropes, attempting to free them. Charley barked his frustration.

“Ssssnip, sssnip?” The Lurking taunted, “long way down.”

“No! Don’t cut the saddle. What do you want?” Jimmy asked.

“Thiss! Watching you suffer, Wittle Weve,” the Night Terror teased with a slobbering hiss. The Lurking trashed Burks’ sword, flinging it deep into the swirling oblivion. “Now, about want I want?” The Lurking tapped his fingers on Jimmy’s head. Jimmy winced as the Lurking’s fingers might as well be steel drumsticks banging on his skull. The Lurking snapped his fingers. “Got it. I’ll take s-something you worked s-so hard to get!”

Jimmy instinctively covered his pocket with his hand.

“Thank you!” The Lurking whistled with glee, slashing open Jimmy’s pocket with one of his invisible icicle talons, helping himself to the emerald leaf wrapped around the sapphire droplet.

“Now, I’ll let you go!” the Lurking said, his voice circulating inside the assaulting winds.

With enough snow falling to expose some of his arms, the Lurking mocked drawing back a bow and fired a gust like an arrow, cutting the lone strand holding the dreamcatcher saddle on Sinsul’s back.

The cut dreamcatcher with Lem, Francis, and Charley all tangled or on it, teetered for a moment, and then slid off the horse’s back! The full-sized saddle knocked Lem off of her feet into the netting along with Francis. Charley got further tangled, and they rocketed off down the steep stone path, picking up speed; they disappeared from view.

“No!” Jimmy yelled.

Free of the dreamcatcher saddle, Sinsul wasn’t so tiny anymore. The warhorse—now a full-blown nightmare—expanded like an out-of-control fire of flickering shadowy flames until he was positively huge—maybe bigger than the old Sinsul.

The terrifying shadow loomed well in view despite all the sleet, and Sinsul let out a horrifying scream that tore the air in half.

Their once-tame horse friend rocketed off the side of the path in a diving glide, disappearing into the storm.

Jimmy gulped at the idea of them being trapped out in the open with an uncontrollable Sinsul roaming loose. He hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with the feral nightmare, but his gut told him otherwise.

“Now, you!” The Lurking said to Jimmy. “You wanted to ssee my throne up close? All yourss!”

But the Lurking leaned down a bit too close to Jimmy, and the second the Lurking let go of him, Jimmy seized the disgusting yellow fang in his hands.

“No!!” the Lurking cried out.

Jimmy gripped the fang with all of his might, blood streamed from his palms, dripping down, but he wouldn’t let go. Everything that had happened to get to this point came flashing in front of him, all of his frustrations, all of his anger. Use it! Dromon’s voice urged him on from inside his head. Jimmy gritted his teeth and just made out the Lurking’s pinpricks for eyes shocked in disbelief.

“We haven’t met,” Jimmy grinned. “I’m the Bard of Dreams. I own you,” Jimmy said, prying the fang with all of his might, and it popped out of the Lurking’s mouth, a repulsive mess with roots and all.

His joy was short-lived, as Jimmy cartwheeled through the air, falling toward the open mouth of the throne.

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hey everyone. A big welcome to my new followers and thank you so much for joining Coffey House! I’m in the latter stages of finishing up my first novel I began posting nearly a year ago, Kingdom of Dreams, which I also affectionately call The Neverending Story! (It’s about to end soon, I assure you.)

As this year begins to unfold, there seems to be exciting things ahead for my stories, podcasts and other mind-blowing possibilities. One never knows what happens when one puts their art out there, but I think the doing is the hard part and then fate and the universe take over. And admittedly, as I’ve at times forced this artist to put myself out threefold with each posting: writing, illustrating and narrating, I’ve discovered there is no going back to simply writing anymore. Like a comic that works out their new material on select audiences, you have been my wonderful sounding board. Can’t wait to get into what comes next, but I’ll forgo that until our current story concludes.

Stay well and thrive this week. See you again soon!

-KC

Before peace truly sat in after successfully winning water from the bloodsucking trees of the Vampire Grove, a humongous knot in the wood spun open beneath them, sending Jimmy, Charley, Francis, and Lem sliding deep into the rotten tree’s core.

They spilled (mostly) uninjured in a pile beneath a darkened alcove. The stump’s insides didn’t appear nearly as rotten as its filthy outside. In fact, the wood boasted reinforced layers of ridged, armored bark.

“What about this view, huh?” Lem marveled, the wonder of the enormity of the space evidently overtaking even her usual cynical observations.

They stood on a wide, smooth, wooden ramp that ran along the outer wall. The inner walls were actually embedded shelves filled from floor to ceiling with books. There appeared to be no end to them, either. The smell of ancient wood and dust, along with the flicker of well-spaced torches, created a sacred vibe.

“It’s like we’re standing inside a giant wooden Slinky library,” Jimmy said. Then it hit him. He’d been here before. “I…I dreamt of this place.” Jimmy placed his hand on a gnarled wooden wall, half-expecting to feel a heartbeat. “I think we’re in the kingdom’s sacred library, The Deep Stacks.”

They wandered through countless rows and long aisles filled to the brim with books. As books tended to do, they emanated their own power. Just like it had been in his dream, Jimmy found it a mesmerizing, spellbound place.

So too did Francis, apparently. His cat inhaled deeply, clearly inspired by the space to recite more poetry. “Ah, this secluded space has that lonely library mood, as if it has a soul: the papery bouquet of reams of knowledge, lovingly planted in rows of sacred silence, a precious garden.”

“Yeah, like you read,” Charley said out the side of his mouth to the cat.

“In fact, I am a voracious reader. I’ll have you know,” Francis replied. “You on the other hand are a voracious eater.”

“Yeah, so what? I got needs,” Charley grinned.

Jimmy picked out an odd sculpture nestled on one of the books. It was squat and fat, shaped like a yellow eyeball with a thin black slit for a pupil. Curious, he put his face within inches of the painted art.

The eye winked at him. Jimmy jumped back. “That’s a real eyeball,” he said taking a few steps back. “Something’s back there!”

The evil eye disappeared with a slurping giggle, leaving an empty black hole.

Jimmy pointed out another spyhole. They soon identified many more.

“Who’s spying on us?” Lem asked, fully freaked out.

A terrible wheezing laugh erupted behind them, apparently coming from the upper bookshelves.

Up on a higher shelf, a long green nose with a single plump red eyeball on its end, like a big wart, pushed an elderly but beefy volume out of the way so they had to dodge as it crashed to the floor. The peculiar eyeball nose sneezed at them, drenching them with disgusting snot droplets they hurriedly wiped off. A long tongue rolled out of one of its nostrils, either to make fun of them, or clean up the mess. Either way, it turned Jimmy’s stomach.

“Blimey! The books are coming to life!” Francis warily nodded at the rows. The books appeared to sprout eyeballs on all sides. All of varying disgusting sizes and shapes mixed with ears, mouths—all body parts that had no business put together. It reminded Jimmy of some wacky modern paintings he’d seen on field trips to art museums.

“My word, they are vile specimens, aren’t they?” Francis added.

“AHEM,” a voluminous voice interrupted, apparently clearing their throat. “SO… WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY DREARY REMAINS, YOUNG MAN?”

Jimmy almost leapt out of his sneakers and wheeled around to face the gruff, speaking wooden walls chocked full of tomes. A great presence filled the room as if the cranky old fogey of a stump itself had spoken to them. Jimmy guessed it had.

“Who said that?” said Charley, unsure at what might be talking, so he growled and dealt out warning woofs to every knot and crack.

“Meet my army of…BROKEN DREAMS,” the voice said in a dramatic tone, seemingly coming at them from everywhere. “Rejected dreams that didn’t make the cut. Never got sent out. They’re attracted to dumpy old buildings and rotting things like trash heaps.”

“Or a humongous stump,” Lem said out of the side of her mouth to Jimmy.

“I WOULD WATCH MY TONE IF I WERE YOU, YOUNG…LADY,” the voice warned, seeming highly insulted. “Broken Dreams are quite unpredictable and at times, LETHAL!”

“Oh dear me, the librarians here are killers,” Francis shuddered, stowing himself behind Jimmy’s legs.

More eyes joined the motley assembly of Broken Dreams. A ruckus swelled as the creatures all begin chattering away in a unique language that consisted of every foul and detestable body sound that obnoxious cliques in his middle school used to make each other laugh. Jimmy couldn’t hear himself think.

The library was now nothing but a constellation of revolting eyes: blinking, oozing, and sometimes crying.

“Well, I guess they know we’re here,” Jimmy said.

“INDEED, WE DO! A DEAF OAK WOULD KNOW YOU’RE HERE!” The tree’s booming words traveled up from deep within the withering roots.

Charley quieted his barking, backing away from the walls.

Jimmy managed to perk up. “Uh, hello. I’m Jimmy Reve. This is my sister Lem, Francis is the cat, Charley, the dog, Oh Great… Once… Tree… Stump?”

“YOU SHALL NOT ADDRESS ME AS THE ONCE TREE! EVER!” The tree’s wooden sides creaked and shook with emphasis as his voice exploded. “ARE WE CLEAR, YOUNG MAN?”

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said quietly.

“NOT ‘SIR’ EITHER. YOU SHALL CALL ME MR. STUMP!”

“Mister?” Jimmy repeated.

“DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A SAPLING, YOUNG DREAMER?”

“No, sir… uh—Mr. Stump,” Jimmy said.

“That’s better. Now, I need to better know the miscreants that would nose around my withering roots. Push on the bookcase beside you and follow the corkscrew hallway down until you reach the set of double doors and enter my dining room. HURRY, BEFORE ALL MY BARK SLIDES OFF MY SIDES AND I’M UNSUITABLE, EVEN FOR WORMS!”

Not knowing what to expect, Jimmy pushed open the bookcase doorway and, with his family trailing behind him, entered a vast, hall that indeed spiraled downward.

Just as they twisted around the first corner a voice assaulted them.

“Foals of Earth!” said a familiar voice.

No.

Jimmy spun, nearly colliding with a tiny white face, flashing an icicle smile. A gentle snowfall hovered around the tiny knightmare’s proud face, blanketing it in soft powder. A fiery blue spark for an eye flashed on and off, like it winked at him.

“Sinsul! I don’t believe it! How did you—”

The horse turned his head away from Jimmy to the side as if embarrassed. “Captured.”

Jimmy couldn’t believe it. “You mean you were taken prisoner?”

Sinsul nodded.

“Roots of tree. Tangled me. Pulled me here,” Sinsul gestured with his neck, indicating the room with a furrowed brow.

Jimmy screamed as a short figure sprang from the shadows, snatched him to his feet and… hugged him? He was equally surprised as Sinsul acted indifferent to the invader’s presence.

“Jimmy! It’s me again, now us again. Isn’t it great?”

A half-occupied set of mostly complete Dreamknight armor with an antique vacuum base for a helmet nearly squeezed him to death.

“Burks!” Jimmy returned his missing friend’s bear hug.

“Who?” Lem said, looking the knight up and down, eyeing Burks with a sense of the ‘stranger danger’ their parents used to warn them about.

“This is Burks O’Barden; he’s been helping us all along. He’s my—”

“Imaginary friend?” Lem whispered. She lost color and was temporarily as black and white as the rest of Meird, about to scrape the floor with her bottom lip. She weakly shook Burks’ hand, suddenly mute.

“Once we crashed, I wandered around calling for you and fell through that trapdoor,” Burks pointed up.

“But what happened to your body?” Jimmy squinted, blinded by searing sunbeams happily spraying out of exposed forearms and thighs in the broken off sections missing armor. “I need sunglasses just to look at you.”

“Well, Sinsul salvaged some of my lost armor, but I’m missing quite a few pieces.”

That’s an understatement, Jimmy thought.

Evidently fatigued, Burks had shrunken to Jimmy’s height, and some of the armor dragged behind him when he walked down the spiral ramp, plowing ugly ruts into the bark. His sword looked positively huge in comparison, but Jimmy was thankful he still had a weapon, at least.

“You’d better, uh… grow back into your armor.” Jimmy motioned to Burks to grow.

“On it,” Burks said. He ballooned up in size until he could once again fit into the remaining pieces of his armor.

“Master, I see the aforementioned double doors just ahead,” Francis proclaimed with a swish of his tail from his position well ahead of them at the end of the corkscrew hallway’s last turn.

They joined Francis in the hallway (thankfully free of Broken Dreams) in front of two giant wooden doors that seemed more like a gate with strange interlocking circle designs carved across them. They pushed opened the thick stubborn doors and entered.

In the middle of the circular room sat a round oak pock-marked table with a half-moon wooden bench. A conflicted chandelier with issues involving unicorn horns and snake rattles hung from the rafters above it.

“AH! Finally, YOU BOTHER TO ARRIVE,” Mr. Stump pined.

String music stretched toward them from the corner of the room, where a skeleton sat cross-legged on a stool, playing an old, beat-up violin with a long dagger.

“Pay no mind to the nightmare in the corner,” Mr. Stump instructed.

Jimmy scowled. Easy for him to say.

Out of a hollow in the wall limped two towering snakes way taller than Jimmy and even Burks. They carried silver trays with puny arms (and legs!).

The snake-men’s long tongues flickered, and their eyes darted from side to side as they set down their trays. Jimmy didn’t miss the dreamcatcher cloaks they had fastened to each of their necks. It was a pretty flimsy clasp that held the cloak up as well, if you asked him.

“Walking snakes,” Mr. Stump trumpeted like he anticipated their thoughts. “Maintain your good manners, and you needn’t fear them. These Broken Dreams serve me and now… THEY SERVE YOU—HA! HA-HA-HA!” Nobody else laughed at the surly tree’s horrible joke and laugh.

The snakes plucked off the domed tray covers to reveal massive platters filled with fresh game. The snakes pointed as Mr. Stump overdid it, identifying each dish in his massive voice—even rolling his r’s—like a formal dinner host.

“IMPECCABLY GRILLED JACK-O-LOPE, SUCCULENT LEG OF LAKE MONSTER, AND IMPOSSIBLY MOIST FREE-RANGE PHOENIX! Go on, do sit down, I don’t have another millennia to wait.”

With hunger burning their insides, Jimmy and the others practically sprinted to the grand table. An assortment of wild-shaped Meirdian vegetables gleamed with dewy beads; a fresh pitcher of rainbow water sparkled invitingly on the table. Even a Barctic Warhorse-sized share of softened shadow grass and stripped bamboo (or perhaps beanstalk?) were in abundance, complete with an oaken water trough on the opposite side of the table.

Sinsul drooled a quickly evaporating frost. Charley begged beside Lem out of habit while Francis settled on the actual table, stalking a dish full of grilled rainbow trout.

The stump yawned. “Now sit and eat while I nap.”

The massive walls creaked and heaved around them as the great Mr. Stump evidently settled into sleep.

Jimmy and his companions plowed through platter after platter while the chandelier candles burned lower and lower. Being a daydream with no need for food, Burks looks bored out of his mind, his legs crossed, propped up on the table, reinspecting the numerous gaps in his armor again and again.

The second they finished their bountiful feast, the bony musician stood up from his stool, gave them a slight bow, and then evaporated in a curious purple mist.

There were heaps of leftovers, and they filled as many pockets and packs—now that they had Sinsul’s saddle again—as possible. Jimmy had to admit, the food was unbelievably good and way overdue. And who were they to be picky? They hadn’t really had a proper meal since they’d gotten here and certainly had no idea when they might next eat again.

Lem squeegeed out her damp hair with her hands into an empty water pail that Sinsul had drained. It made no sense why a dream would eat and drink, but Jimmy wasn’t about to ask him about his motivations.

The Walking Snakes crept out once more to remove the empty platters. The snakes said nothing, but their shifty eyes were filled with what Jimmy swore looked like bad intent. Finally, the filthy things slither-walked back into the folds of the rotting tree, leaving them alone.

Jimmy reasoned a possible pecking order because as soon as the Walking Snakes departed, lesser Broken Dreams dared to come out of hiding to spy on them again. As the light in the room waned, nosy eyes lined the gaps in the crowded walls, blinking, bulging, and sometimes weeping. Crude burps, sobs, sneezes, obscene breathing, crazy laughter, and varying degrees of flatulation polluted the room as the Broken Dreams jabbered at one another.

A shudder rumbled through the floor, like the ancient wood had inhaled a breath.

“WELL THEN.” Mr. Stump said anew. “Full bellies, have we? Then to business. YOU DIDN’T LAND ON ME AND SURVIVE MY TRAPS JUST TO WATCH ME ROT, NOW DID YOU?” Mr. Stump said in his ever changing (and uber-aggravating) shifts in volume.

Jimmy shook his head. “No, sir.” He stood and clasped his hands, suddenly nervous. He sometimes (make that all the time) got hyper self-conscious when giving speeches. “Uh… Mr. Stump, I have come to break the Curses that plague Meird. We’ve done well with the first two—though we didn’t recover the water droplet nose ring thingy—and we’re not sure what to do next. We do appreciate your roots always pointing us in the right direction. With your help, we hope to save the realm.”

The wood creaked again, and Jimmy swore he felt a heavy presence lean over his shoulder for a better look at him. NOT a good feeling.

“Well, well—commendable ambitions….” The voice considered something for a moment. “As I rot and crumble, YOU are the reason the lot of you still live and breathe.”

Cackles and wheezes echoed all around them. Jimmy frowned. Mr. Stump’s dysfunctional pets grew bolder as the candlelight burned lower.

“However, YOU are also the reason I do not.” The laughter ceased.

Jimmy wiped clammy hands down the front of his clothes. Oh boy.

“You are my… CAPTIVE audience. You must forgive my being forthright—THE ATTENTION OF OTHERS IS A HARD VICTORY TO ACHIEVE THESE DAYS.” Cold breath spilled from the gaps in the wood and made him shiver.

“NOW. LET’S DISCUSS YOUR BED.”

“My bed?” Jimmy asked, still baffled, putting his hand to his chest.

“Yes, which also happens to be the Portal of Dreams, made from own bark. It dawned on me that the fate of dreams being successfully delivered depended on the Portal’s safety. To keep the portal safe, I stored it at the boundary of dreams and reality—‘The Place.’ And so, the bed remained for countless ages, awaiting to discover the true bard that would lie in it and dream, while I acted as Driem’s caretaker. Are we FOLLOWING?””

“My bed?” Jimmy said again in disbelief.

Jimmy jumped as a strange, hacking laugh—perhaps more taunt than laugh—ravaged the space, throttling his ear drums.

“YOU are something else. As fate would have it, when you turned five years old, Jimmy, your parents took our precious vessel out of The Place and put it in your room, calling it your Big Boy Bed.” The chorus of Broken Dreams behind the outer walls cackled with cruel snickers.

Jimmy nervously scratched his body, this was a lot to take in—too much.

The wood creaked out another groan. Sadness settled heavily in the air; even the Broken Dreams remained quiet. Mr. Stump sighed and continued.

“Then, not long after that, THEY came into our world. Unnatural, rogue Night Terrors that I would NEVER and DID NOT create.” He sniffed. “In turn, they ruthlessly chopped me down.”

The great stump hummed a bit in deep regretful memory. “Driem expired, and Meird came to be. Despite my current state of being—MY ROOTS STILL RUN DEEP.”

Lem stared open-mouthed at Jimmy.

Don’t worry, it’s surreal for me, too, he thought but wasn’t sure she was getting that from him.

Jimmy remained quiet until he was pretty sure the tree had finished speaking. He shifted his feet, his nerves still buzzing at a heightened level. “I owe you an apology, but that’s not enough, is it?”

“NO.”

A great tremor vibrated the wall. Perhaps as a warning.

Jimmy craned his neck, still not quite sure where to direct his conversation. “But we still can right all of the wrongs, right?”

No response came.

“You’ll help us banish the remaining Night Terrors?”

No response again.

Jimmy managed a feeble smile. “You’ll help me make things right?”

“OH YES INDEED. THINGS WILL BE MADE RIGHT, BOY.”

Stepping out of the creeping shadows, the Walking Snakes reappeared. Their beady little eyes and flickering tongues laser-focused on Jimmy. Their necks were bare—no dreamcatchers!

Sinsul whinnied.

A horde of other hazy shapes slid out from behind the wall. They weren’t close enough to identify, but their shapes were hideous.

“YOU SEE, FEASTING SO LATE IN THE EVENING HAS MADE YOU SUSCEPTIBLE TO THE POWER OF MY NIGHTMARES.”

Jimmy palmed his belly. It bloated unnaturally like he was pregnant with an alien baby or something worse. Now that he thought of it, every time Jimmy had ever eaten a late dinner, he had suffered the worst nightmares of his life. Really bad timing to realize that now.

Lem’s skin was also pale and sickly, her movements sluggish.

Francis dozed beside his platter of fish bones.

On his back beside Lem, Charley belched and licked his lips with embarrassment, barely mobile.

Even the mighty Sinsul sloughed around on his hooves.

“What—what have you done to us?” Jimmy burped, astonished at the involuntary belch.

“WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU?” Mr. Stump answered in his booming voice. “And to think some beings call me thick.”

The ancient tree cleared his splintery throat and said: “YOU ARE THE IMPOSTER RULER THAT WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS ROOM—I AM STILL THE ONE-TRUE-BARD.”

Hairy roots crashed through the floorboards, tethering everyone in place with firm grips on ankles, wrists, tails, and hooves. The largest of the furry roots constricted around Jimmy and lifted him into the air. His eyes bulged, and he coughed. His ribs had to be cracking.

“Member me lad?” the end of the root taunted him, speaking with a primitive curved mouth like a carnivorous eel. It was the rude root that had served as their guide!

“Let me go!” Jimmy managed to say with his last breath. The wicked stem would crush him in no time.

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Mr. Stump cackled another wicked laugh like bark being rubbed together. “I WILL LET YOU GO… WHEN THERE IS NO LIFE REMAINING IN YOUR WRETCHED LITTLE BODY!”

Jimmy’s body gave way to the root’s suffocating grip. He couldn’t move. Not one finger or toe. There was no fighting back being constricted inside the squeeze of such thick wood.

“SAD LITTLE BOY, YOU WILL NOT SUFFER LONG,” chided Mr. Stump.

Burks attempted to draw his sword to help, but apparently, it was too heavy for him as the blade slid back down into its scabbard.

Sinsul attacked the tree, biting, gnawing, slashing, stabbing his icicle deep into the wood again and again with no effect.

“Nooo,” a sleepy Lem moaned at the sight of her helpless brother, but she too couldn’t move a muscle as a root had bound her legs together.

Charley and Francis snored through it all, still at the table, as the effects of the nightmare feast took its toll.

Jimmy’s ears began to ring, and his temples throbbed. But the defiance from before when he cursed the bullies returned. That was all this tree is now, right? Another bully. Jimmy nodded that he had something to say and Mr. Stump obliged and loosened his root coils enough for him to speak. “Let me go. You’ll let ALL of us go and… more than that—you’ll help us,” Jimmy seethed.

The terrible root squeezed Jimmy harder, and a cruel laugh poured from the walls. “PERHAPS I’LL HANG YOUR BONES AS A WARNING TO OTHERS. YOU SEE, EVEN IN MY DEPLORABLE CONDITION, I WILL LEAD THIS ONCE-PROUD REALM AS IT SHOULD BE LED. I AND I ALONE WILL DEFEAT THE CURSE.”

Was the heat around Jimmy increasing or was it his blood boiling with rage? At the same time, a dripping, swollen pair of eyes casually dropped out of the chandelier, causing it to swing dangerously.

“Will you?” Jimmy whispered like a dare.

“WHAT’S THAT? Who’s that? Not…” Mr. Stump’s voice deflated.

“Oh? Trouble speaking for such a cocky loudmouth? Are you afraid of my recurring nightmare?” Jimmy whispered with a smile. Dromon’s smoke and heat were everywhere at once. As if mockingly, Dromon’s smoky tentacles shot out, caressing the tree’s interior. With every lethal touch, more wood blistered and blackened, threatening to spark into flames. Acrid smoke began to fill the dining room.

“Y-you’re hurting my wood,” Mr. Stump stammered in a feeble old voice.

“And what of those same wooden arms crushing our true Bard?” Dromon sneered.

The hairy roots dropped Jimmy with a thump and retreated through the torn floor into the Stump’s depths. His arms and legs were all numb like Jimmy no longer had them attached. He crawled to a sitting position, sputtered out a cough while having to support himself with his arms or risk flopping like a doll without the use of his legs.

Jimmy gave a respectful nod to Dromon, liking the power his recurring Night Terror brought to the party.

Lem shook and broke into a sweat, seemingly still stricken.

“Want to tell us everything?” Jimmy panted out his threat. “Or do you want to become a campfire?”

“Jimmy?” Burks said.

Jimmy ignored the knight. “How do we get the water droplet?”

No answer.

Jimmy nodded to Dromon, and hovering ever so close to his master, the Night Terror pressed against a section of the wall with its writing shadows and the wood instantly bubbled and warped from the extreme heat.

“ARRGH!” Mr. Stump roared in pain. The rotten wood’s breathing became labored. “You have it…you silly Earth-borns already have it in your possession,” the rotten tree said after taking a second to recover his breath. “It’s…it’s caught in the savage girl’s hair.”

“What do you mean?”

With a writhing band of smoke, Dromon reached and plucked a sapphire droplet from the tangles of Lem’s locks before she could so much as flinch. (He also helped instantly dry her hair to a nice crispy perm.)

“Get away, creep!” Lem grabbed her steaming hair protectively, shying away from the nightmare’s scalding touch.

Dromon kneeled in front of Jimmy on his base of smoky black coils and plopped the droplet into his open palm.

“Don’t trust that used-up old cigarette. He’s up to something,” Burks advised Jimmy.

Jimmy glared at Burks while he massaged the prickly feeling of blood circulating back into his legs before addressing the tree again with a snarl. “What else do we have to do?”

Mr. Stump sighed. “Travel alongside my easternmost root. That will lead you to the Lurking’s realm. The third item needed is the fang of the wretched wind devil. Wrench it from his foul mouth.”

“And… after that?” Jimmy said.

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Stump said with an amused tone, somewhat recovering. “To reach the Portal and return home, you must cross…The Bridge of Good Measure. A failsafe that I installed in case the wrong types happened to somehow find their way into our realm and inflict damage.”

Jimmy scowled. “And where’s this judging Bridge exactly?”

“None know, as it does not have a precise location,” Mr. Stump said, even more amused. “It will find you, and, when it does, it will judge you worthy or…UNWORTHY to cross.”

Lem raised her head with apparent concern. “What does that mean?”

“It means if it deems that you are well-intentioned heroes, you will be permitted to cross and finish your quest. If not… let’s just say you will be cast into The Place with nightmares like your friend there for a long, long time.”

Jimmy crossed his arms. “I’m not worried about any stupid bridge.” But truth be told, Jimmy was worried about whether or not he could pass the test to cross. But he wasn’t about to show any weakness in front of their enemy. “What about the last object needed?”

“Why not ask your personal recurring Night Terror?” Mr. Stump asked Jimmy.

Dromon blinked his eyes as if nodding. “You must claim the last Talisman from me,” he said without fanfare.

“And… what is it?” Jimmy said, cautiously meeting his recurring nightmare’s eyes.

Dromon appeared to shrug, his smoke momentarily formed rising shoulders. “The last Talisman is a spark. It’s yours if you can take it from me. Perhaps ask nicely,” he said.

Jimmy blinked and stared at Dromon’s shifting black bands of smoke, trying to decipher where he hid his spark. He sensed possible deception, but still, Dromon had been helping him along the tough parts of the journey.

“HA!” Mr. Stump thundered, causing even Dromon’s smoke to seem to flinch and pull his countless feverish fingers from the wood. “I KNOW WHERE YOU HIDE THE SPARK, FILTHY NIGHT TERROR. ULLP—”

Dromon hurled the entirety of his smoky body against the wooden wall, causing shrieks from the chorus of Broken Dreams hiding back there.

“Master?” Dromon’s eyes beamed at Jimmy.

Jimmy squeezed his eyes closed; he didn’t even consider what the right thing to do might be, he had been pushed too far by everyone. “Do it,” he commanded Dromon.

With a single tentacle of smoke, Dromon reached up and yanked the chain holding the chandelier.

With a twang and a rattle, the chain snapped. The chandelier crashed to the floor like a freed anchor, splintering the wood; several unicorn horns stuck in the floor.

A number of still-lit candles rolled dangerously, and the Walking Snakes chased them down and doused them with the pitchers of water from the table. All but one.

As if in slow motion, the stray candle rolled to a stop against the far wall and—

“Adios,” Jimmy grinned as the candle ignited upon contact, the wooden walls began to crackle with fast-spreading flames.

Dromon disappeared, zooming inside of the cracks in the wood.

Mr. Stump howled in pain as the fire soon turned into an inferno.

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Happy New Year everyone! Congrats on making it through the holidays. I hope everyone is in one piece!

The current chapter, Vampire Grove, was voted a favorite if not THE favorite chapter of my test readers that read this novel. Even if you’ve bailed or are waiting on the book to finish before completing, I encourage you to give this chapter a try (either by listening or reading) and let me know your thoughts as it seems to stand up very well as a one-off sub-adventure within the main story.

The beginning of the final act will follow this chapter. Enjoy!Kevin

Flying in the leafboat turned leafplane had been a blast.

Crashing? Not so much. The falling sensation of the torpedoing leaf vessel made Jimmy feel like his guts would come flying up out of his mouth.

The leafboat folded around them like a protective cocoon before gravity seized them. Jimmy concluded Burks must have figured out a way to make the leaf close.

They punched right through the canopy, breaking branches and tearing vines that slowed them, but not without inflicting numerous bumps and bruises.

They thudded into a (mostly) soft surface and pulled off multiple donuts before skidding to a stop. The leaf unfolded again like it was blooming. When Jimmy caught his breath, a field of hairy fungus the size of trees lay sprawled before them.

“Thanks, Burks,” Jimmy said, untangling himself from Lem. “Anybody hurt?”

“Just wounded spirits,” Francis said.

“Ugh,” Lem moaned.

“Good to go!” Charley said, helping Lem to her feet like she was about to throw sticks for him.

The leafboat said nothing.

“Burks?”

“So much for gratitude,” Lem spat on the ground.

“Burks, you in there?” Jimmy leaned down, now feeling a little silly talking to the jumbo leaf.

“Don’t tank anybody’s home,” Charley sniffed at the leaf.

In fact, like another illusion of Meird, the leaf shrank down to the size of a regular leaf again.

“Burks?” Jimmy asked again with the concern of a close friend.

No answer. Jimmy inspected the veins running across the back of the leaf. He traced his finger along their lines as if he might telepathically commune with his imaginary friend. With shaky hands, Jimmy scooped up the leaf and shoved it back in his pocket.

Their jungle surroundings on the canopy of the stump were as hot and steamy as a sauna, and Jimmy found himself surrounded by millions of fat, tropical-looking leaves beaded up with sweat of their own. And silence.

There was none of the usual jungle chatter of animals and insects, not in this place. Too quiet. It gave Jimmy the heebie-jeebies just like the Odd Woods had—maybe worse.

“Now where are we?” Lem said.

“Beats me,” Jimmy answered. “But we didn’t get Undine’s nose ring,” Jimmy muttered with disappointment. “Yet, I guess she got banished like the Guhgooner. My guess is we’re going to need to get it, but how?”

“The million-dollar question,” Lem sighed.

“Well, let’s locate Burks and—”

Something pawed at Jimmy’s leg, trying to get his attention. Francis rapidly blinked like something had spooked him.

“Uh, sir, I don’t want to make you lose sight of our goal,” Francis said, “But I think the trees are stalking us.”

A cluster of trees had moved inside of the jungle. In fact, it looked like the jungle had retreated to make way for the spooky things.

The trees surrounding them at a distance were sickly to behold; puny specimens with thin bare branches like skeletal, underfed arms—and they bore no kind of leaves or fruit.

The skinny barren branches were the worst, in Jimmy’s opinion. They were extra-pointy on the ends, like someone had intentionally sharpened them so that they resembled dangerous spear points or long fingernails like the Lurking.

The trees were a pale white, in fact, so pale Jimmy saw right through them! The shadows of the jungle on the outer perimeter of the stump flickered through their thin trunks. The colossal toadstools stood silhouetted in the backdrop like empty tables waiting for giants to sit down to eat.

“Definitely weird,” Jimmy said. “But trees live off water; maybe there’s a source nearby.”

“We need water,” Charley said, enthusiastically wagging his tail.

“No doubt,” Jimmy said. His throat was scratchy. They were overdue eating a real meal as well, but water was essential.

“And food,” Lem said, patting her groaning stomach. “Let’s hope there’s a buffet around the corner.”

They slowly moved toward the center of the top of the gigantic stump.

“Uh… Did anyone notice those trees here when we landed?” Jimmy pointed to a new clump of the ghoulish trees that unless his eyes were playing tricks on him were not only greater in number but closer to them now.

“Nice,” Lem said. “Now we’re probably going to have to hack our way out through some kind of instant growing forest.”

“I’d say a pack of hunters would be a more fitting description,” Francis piped in, and sat down, engrossed with the trees while his tail nervously twitched back and forth. “As a fellow hunter, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that they’re attempting to outflank us, drawing closer and closer to us, but only when our backs are turned.”

“And why would they do that?” Jimmy asked.

A cold, wet nose nudged his hand. “Maybe dat’s the answer,” Charley said.

Alone, in the cleared-out circular space inside the grove of suspicious trees, was a well.

“No way!” Jimmy said, licking his dry lips at the welcome sight. Lem nodded at him with craved eyes. They were beyond dehydrated and thirsty. “Come on!”

“Wait!” Francis pleaded with him, but Jimmy ignored his cat. There could be water, and that was the most important thing. Besides, they only had one direction and one narrow road to travel on, anyway.

They crunched their way over the chalky white ground surrounding the well and approached the simple round structure. It was composed of built-up, smoothed, and worn-out stone.

Jimmy stuck his head over the side, and his companions copied him.

“Can’t tell what’s down there,” he said. “Do you think there’s actual water at the bottom?”

“Perhaps, but my hackles are raised about this place—the offering is highly suspicious,” Francis declared. His tail thumped with nervous energy: back and forth, back and forth.

Lem shrugged. “One way to find out,” she said. She ripped a medal off of her letterman’s jacket. Jimmy was shocked. She liked to wear those medals around like a decorated general—especially at such a young age. Lem shrugged again. “This one’s only a bronze. I’ll replace it with a gold this year—if I make it back alive,” she said, flipping the medal down into the well.

After a short drop, there was a distinctive splash. They shared a smile of success and gave each other high-fives with hands and paws.

“So how do we get the water up to us?” Lem asked.

“And there’s the quandary,” Francis said.

The answer to her question turned out to be on the far side of the well, where a worn rope wrapped around a dusty, decaying crank of chiseled wood. Lem grabbed the crank until Jimmy stopped her and pointed to a sign.

Beside the crank, staked in the chalky earth, a cracked wooden sign with spidery writing warned: Beware!! Vampire Grove.

“Vampire Grove? What the heck does that mean?” Lem said with a hint of paranoia, checking behind her. But that didn’t stop her for long. “I don’t see any bats or pale faces around here, do you? I’m dying of thirst. We’re all thirsty; we need the water—end of story.”

Francis wasn’t so sure. “I can’t quite put my paw on it, but something about this place is dreadfully wrong. Most likely the trees.” The cat blinked. “Difficult to determine what they are, but certainly not friendly.”

Charley ran a quick perimeter check for them, sniffing the ground. The spirited canine returned with a shrug of his shoulders. “Nuttin’ bad yet.”

Jimmy nodded. “Stay sharp.”

Jimmy eyed the trees. They were now at their thickest around the perimeter of the well’s circular clearing, like an infestation of icicles.

“I agree with you about the trees, but we don’t have much of a choice, Fran,” Jimmy said. He cautiously placed his hands on the crank.

“If we do it together, it’ll be faster,” Lem said, ignoring the cat’s warning. She put her hands beside her brother’s on the crank.

“Right. Ready, on three. One, two, three!”

Brother and sister grunted in anticipation that the crank would prove too stubborn to turn. Instead, they found quite the opposite.

“It’s really loose!” Lem said, and Jimmy grinned, nodding. After several turns, Jimmy’s craving for the taste of water overtook his mouth as up came something, sloshing side to side and reflecting the light rising up the well attached to the end of the rope: a clean wooden bucket full of clear water!

“It’s water, all right! Almost there, keep going, Lem!” Jimmy paused to pull out his empty leather water pouch he had retrieved from the Guhgooner pile. “We’ll drink our fill and leave with a refreshed pouch, no problem.” What a break!

“Wait!” Charley grunted, tugging on something stuck halfway out of the ground. “I tank I pound sometang I like. Oh, yeah, one of my pavorites—Bone!”

The dog pulled out a long bone from the loose dirt and immediately dropped it, jerking back in shock. “It’s a person! I just broke every dog law,” he said in horror.

Jimmy inspected the chalky white ground at their feet that made up the so-called Vampire Grove. The object they thought to be jagged rocks poking out of the ground were bones, all of them!

All around them, in all sorts of conditions, were elbows, hands, feet, even the cracked forehead and empty eye sockets of a human skull!

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“This is a boneyard!” Jimmy wailed. “Quick, Lem. Turn the crank!”

“Hurry!” Charley urged them on.

“Master James, wait!” Francis dared to jump on the ledge of the well and scratched Jimmy’s arm with his extended claws. Red trails immediately bubbled up from the scratch marks, and his arm burned from the wound.

“Ow, Fran!”

“My apologies, but look!”

Jimmy snapped his head up. The sign was a warning. The clearing was no longer clear at all. The trees had closed in around them.

ALL around them.

Yet they remained eerily still. None of the pale branches moved an inch in the breeze.

Francis shuddered, “I suspect they are poised and waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Charley said.

Francis gulped, perhaps unwilling to answer.

“Did I make this nightmare up, too? Because this one isn’t familiar,” Jimmy muttered to himself.

Jimmy turned his attention back to the well and the desired water. The bucket was so close to the top, he could practically touch it!

“Lem, don’t move that crank one centimeter. I’m going to fill the pouch.”

Jimmy took the pouch and leaned over as far as possible, but the bucket remained just out of his reach. Not even when standing on his tiptoes.

“Switch with me,” Lem said, “I’ll reach it, short stuff.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. Even in dire circumstances, she couldn’t resist a dig at him. Jimmy stilled the crank in his hands while Lem rolled up her jacket sleeves and bent over the well. Strangely, the desired bucket was just out of Lem’s reach as well.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m way taller than you. What gives?” She indicated the crank with her eyes. “Turn it,” she said.

“No, Lem,” Jimmy said, pointing at the bones. “Like Fran said, it’s too suspect. Did you not see the bones littering the ground? How do you think they got there? Do you not notice the trees moving in closer the farther we bring up that bucket?”

“These are trees, not vampires. Besides, they aren’t close enough to get me.” She coughed. “And my throat is drying out if you can’t tell. We’ll die from dehydration sooner than later if we don’t drink something soon.”

“Don’t tank it’s a good idea, hon, water or no water. I agree with Frankie,” Charley said, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the pale plants.

Francis nervously patrolled the outer rim of the well. “The bucket is tantalizingly close,” he said, “but that’s what worries me. It doesn’t require a great brain to surmise it’s a trap. Right, Charles?”

“Right!”

“Turn it,” Lem said.

“You sure?” Jimmy hesitated.

“Just a smidge.” She indicated a small space between her thumb and index finger. “That’s all the length we need. We won’t be greedy, just little scoops off the top.”

Out of his mind with thirst, Jimmy turned the crank like Lem instructed, nudging it forward with the tiniest of turns.

Sharp probing branches were everywhere at once, like insect antennae. They targeted everyone in the group, particularly any areas of exposed flesh, like their faces, necks, hands, and wrists.

Several branches lined up around the bleeding wound on Jimmy’s hand Francis had opened. And especially his wounded heel from the Carousel. Fat, pulpy suckers exploded out of hidden grooves in their branches.

“They look like—”

“Leeches! They’re bloodsuckers!” Jimmy screamed, ducking under the crank while the branches just missed latching on to him. “Watch out, don’t let them stab you or latch on!”

“You think?” Lem mocked, dodging a flurry of hungry arms targeting her throat. Francis practically hung suspended inside the well, dancing away from the probing branches.

Charley barked like mad, going to the aide of Lem, who was by far drawing the most attention from the branches.

Lem was the most hot-blooded person in existence. She was a walking heater and literal mosquito feeding station. Whenever they hung out on a summer evening in the back yard or at a barbecue, she literally would be covered in welts by the end of the night.

Jimmy ducked again as another assaulting branch grazed over his head then stabbed the dirt beside him, impaling itself a good few inches into the ground.

Charley’s barks and lunging bites had no effect—he failed to back them off as more branches moved in for the kill.

“Master!” Francis yelled through a screen of white, groping, toothy fingers. “Let go of the crank!”

Jimmy did just that and fell smack on his butt.

The storm of parasitic branches whisked away.

But not before Lem screamed as one fleshy pale branch coiled around her extended arm and tore off the sleeve of her jacket!

The prize was taken back inside the grove and pounced on at once by the bloodthirsty mob of leech trees.

Jimmy jumped to his feet and rushed over to check on Lem, who was still in shock, rubbing her real flesh and blood bare arm, which had strange sucker marks on it, and luckily, with unbroken skin that was still attached to her body.

“I guess that’s your lucky jacket after all,” Jimmy said.

“Yeah,” Lem agreed, examining her pockmarked wrist. “What it is, is disgusting.”

Lacking anything of essence the parasitic trees could feast on, the torn piece of clothing was rudely rejected and flung back into the ring of death, where it fluttered to the ground in tatters.

“Hey, I lettered in three sports to earn that jacket!” Lem shouted to the greedy trees.

“Where’s Francis?” Jimmy said, unable to find the little guy anywhere in the near vicinity.

“Oh no.” Charley squinted, desperate to detect any further movement from the leech trees. “Did the sucking plants get him?” He gulped. “He’d be pretty easy to swallow, like a bite-sized biscuit.”

“Down heeeere!” a voice mewed from deep inside the well.

“Oh no,” Jimmy breathed. “He fell into the well!”

Jimmy scrambled to his feet and peered over the well with his sister. Charley jumped up on his hind legs and stuck his head over the ledge.

“Frankie, you in one piece down dare?” asked the dog.

“Yes,” the cat said, his high-pitched voice echoing back at them. “I take it they went away when you let go?” Let go, let go, go, his voice echoed.

Two small but piercing yellow eyes stared up at them, the only things visible.

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “It worked.”

“Gross, is he in the bucket—in our water that we’re supposed to drink?” Lem said.

“Don’t worry your tangled head, my dear Ms. Reve, I’m on the bucket,” Francis shouted up. “Trust me, when it comes to the freshness of one’s food and water, I assure you no creature is more finicky than a cat. Don’t confuse me for a dirty bird.”

“Dirty Bird, dirty bird, dirty bird….”

“We’ll get you out, Fran. Hang on.”

“Of course. What else do I have to do? Do, do, do….”

“Da well made him say doo-doo,” Charley snickered.

“BUFFOON, buffoon, buffoon…”

Jimmy paced back and forth. The whiteout of glasslike trees patiently bid their time, and their lethal pulpy branches glistened, still out on full display and not bothering to hide now that their trick was revealed.

The weight of the leeches made the branches droop like infected willow trees; the parasites gently swayed to the rhythm of the wind as if the attack had never happened. Yeah right.

Jimmy stopped pacing and snapped his fingers. Got it. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, ready to grab the crank once more.

“What are you doing?” Lem asked, holding up her marked arm as evidence. “That doesn’t work so well, remember?”

“I’m… testing the water, well… so to speak. You have to trust me.”

Lem stared at Jimmy for a moment like she’d protest out of habit, but instead, nodded in agreement.

Without waiting for the inevitable argument, Jimmy wound the crank again, keeping a wary eye on the grove. Sure enough, the predatory trees slunk forward with every turn as if they were an optical illusion or propelled by ooze.

“They’re drawing closer again, aren’t they?” Francis’ nervous voice rang out from below inside the hollowed well.

Jimmy risked turning the crank just enough until the furthest branches and the tips of the trees’ grasping and sucking hooks were a man’s body’s length away.

Jimmy jammed up the crank by lifting a knee and leaned his full body weight into the iron handle now stabbing into his side. “Fran, just fill the pouch with as much as you can carry. Lem, help him—I got this.”

Francis carefully floated the pouch on the surface of the water, letting the liquid fill up inside. The cat quickly but mindfully cinched up the end, carrying it in his mouth, and with all of his claws out tacked on the rope, he ascended the short distance that eluded them before.

“Oh, thank God,” Lem said, plucking the pouch from Francis’ paw.

“And here I swore I’d never climb for my life again. Never say never,” the cat shrugged, catching his breath on the side of the well’s ledge.

“Just a little bit, for now, Lem,” Jimmy reminded his gulping sister (she always needed reminding not to gulp or consume whatever it may be that needed sharing, even in this dire situation).

Lem passed the pouch to Jimmy, who took a life-changing sip. “Oh man! Surprisingly cool and fresh.”

Jimmy poured the rest into Lem’s cupped hands that she let Charley lick out of while Francis rested on the ledge, intently watching.

“More?” the cat said in earnest and snatched the water pouch from a surprised Lem’s hands. “Why not cheat death a second time? Cheers!” And without hesitation, he shimmied back down the rope and filled up the pouch again.

And so, they repeated the exercise of drinking the nourishing water, taking turns at holding the crank while Francis remained the water bearer.

Charley waddled up to Francis after the last round. “Frankie, you should make sure… you know, make sure you drink some yourself,” he said with the hint of admiration in his eyes.

“Oh, I have been, Chuck, don’t you worry. I allow myself a wee nip each time I go down.”

Lem’s eyes grew huge. “What?” She spat on the ground. “You mean I’ve been drinking after a cat!”

“I assure you, we’re the cleanest of all creatures—quite finicky about what goes in. Plus, I ensured the water was unsullied and satisfactory to the pallet. It’s quite pure to the taste,” Francis insisted like they’re sampling vintage batches of the finest water. Francis refilled the pouch one more time, this one intended for the road, so he generously filled it to the top.

Jimmy feared the extra weight. The final trip might send his pet tumbling to the bottom of the well (if it had one), but the cat inched his way up the rope paw by paw until Lem relieved him of the cumbersome weight. (She also refused to drink anymore.)

Jimmy scooped up a tired but content and purring Francis and placed him in his hoodie’s hood again for a well-earned rest.

“Well done,” Jimmy said, eyeing the pathway they had come from that remained blocked by the evil vampire trees. “There’s obviously no going back that way. Or is there?”

He grabbed the crank again and twirled it counterclockwise. The trees retreated further and further with each crank until they were out of sight.

“Not bad, little brother,” Lem said, surveying the returning jungle canopy.

And for one brief moment, the unexpected miracle of finding water gave them a glimmer of energy and a break from all of the evil and chaos the dream world had thrown at them.

For a moment, they were not an unlikely group of tired and bickering summoned heroes charged with the impossible task of saving all dreamers; they were simply an ordinary family, enjoying a nice casual walk (albeit on the surface of a quite unique and possibly dead giant tree stump).

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(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hey there. Hope everyone is having a great and safe holiday season! Please enjoy…

Kevin

Jimmy’s ears popped, and his jaw tightened as he sank deeper and deeper. He was still holding his breath—barely. This was hardly a normal-sized pool. Jimmy tumbled to depths that would spook the Loch Ness Monster. And the deeper he sank, the more pressure squeezed his body.

Undine’s controlling the pressure, Jimmy thought. She’ll squeeze me until I implode!

Inky numbers that marked the depth rose past like cruel elevators: fifty feet deep, sixty feet deep…seventy! Jimmy scrunched his eyes closed until a slight jarring made them open. Right at his threshold before passing out, he had bumped against the pool’s bottom.

He spied a dark shape curled up inside of the bottom circle that made up the zero in eighty. Her smirk was in full blossom.

Lem!

It was way too murky to make out much beyond Lem’s pale face, but there she was, still peacefully dreaming, breathing water as natural as a resting ray.

Under the intense pressure, Jimmy’s eyes bulged, and his hands turned blue. He was about to lose his breath entirely.

With the greatest of effort, Jimmy managed to move his partially paralyzed pressed-together feet like a fin and tumbled the other way, rolling next to Lem.

Fading… I… NO! With his last bit of energy, his adrenalin spiked and he broke free of his numbed-over condition, tilted Lem’s head back, pinched her nose, and covered her mouth as the last of his breath evacuated.

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Lem’s eyes shot open. No longer dreaming—or evidently, part-fish—the pressure from Undine’s crushing grip vanished the instant Lem woke. But they were in real trouble being so far down at the bottom of this deep water.

Confused at first about waking underwater, Lem’s bewidersment turned into action. Like a born fish, Lem’s body instantly started swimming. She snatched up Jimmy in a lifeguard’s grip, with his body in front of hers and her hands clasped under his armpits, and they began the long swim up to the surface.

The water was dark and quiet now—way spookier than even when Undine was toying with Jimmy and scolding him.

Lem’s pale face strained. A woozy Jimmy was impressed at how far and how fast they rose, but still doubted their chances. His big sister really was a freak of nature in the water.

Lem turned her head, snarling at her lack of air, and kicked her legs like a ticked-off jellyfish.

Breathing too much water, Jimmy shook his head in a panic. No breath!

Lem cried out, too, screaming her rage into the water’s depths.

They were toast.

Until… Seeming almost by accident, they broke the surface!

Jimmy breathed in gulps of air that burned, as did Lem. All the while, Lem continued to keep both herself and Jimmy afloat. She was an Olympian among lifeguards.

In a panic, Jimmy flailed at her, making her job ten times harder, but she fought him off.

“Calm down, Jimmy, calm. Deep breaths—there you go,” Lem gasped, suddenly sounding more mature in her preferred element.

They still had a long way to go because the pool was now the entire cavern, and they were floating up toward stalactites waiting to stab at them.

There weren’t any Rindlesprytes in sight, but the sudden surge of salt in the water told Jimmy they still might be around.

Guilt began to well up inside of Jimmy for what he did to his sister. “Lem…” Jimmy sputtered.

“No talking… dummy. Breathe,” Lem panted encouragement, though out of breath herself. Her eyes scanned the water, and she swam in patrolling circles, frantically searching in all directions, then gave a shrill whistle.

The shadowy shape of a rogue boat piloted by a dog and cat slid out of the rolling fog. It was Burks’ leafboat with the animals on board.

“Lem! Jimmy!” Charley said, wagging his tail.

Francis smiled at being reunited with Jimmy, then darted out of sight at the immense amount of rising water around them.

Lem pulled Jimmy into the leafboat with ease, even grace. Way different from his clumsy attempt before. Exhausted, they were at the mercy of the flooding waters, majorly exhausted passengers as the possessed leafboat navigated a maze of giant stalactites with no current.

Francis remained waterlogged at the bottom of the boat and absolutely miserable.

“I think—I think we just met your recurring nightmare, Lem,” Jimmy said.

“What?”

“Yeah, uh, Undine and the Rindlesprytes.”

“Sounds like a lame band name.” Lem shrugged. “I never remember my dreams. In fact, how did we get here?”

“You mean… you don’t?” There’s no way Jimmy dodged her wrath. Is there? Or was this a half-truth? This had to be one of her tricks. Any moment now, she’d throttle him. But she didn’t.

“I just remember hiding from that wind demon thing, and that’s about it.”

Jimmy searched his sister’s expression for any facial tics different from her normal ones.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Man, he lucked out! “You were breathing water.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows as if legitimately surprised in a good way. “Wow. That would really help me out big time at regionals this year.”

“No doubt,” Jimmy laughed.

They shared a smile. A fleeting thing these days.

The waves rose and rose; he might not be getting throttled by his sister, but they’d soon be squashed against the cavern’s unforgiving ceiling.

Jimmy peered into the gurgling depths of the turbulent waters. The shining blue domes of the love dreams returned in a wiggling pack, surrounding them.

“What are those jellyfish thingies?” Lem gaped at the love dreams. “They’re… nice.”

“Love dreams,” Jimmy answered, amused at his sister having the same reaction they did. “Hey there, guys!” Jimmy yelled to the dreams like they were old friends. “Good timing! Now get us out of here? Please?”

And, at his request, a miracle happened: The water began flowing in the opposite direction!

“Wow…” Charley shook his coat and nodded with his nose to the glowing orbs. “Looks like that did the trick. They’re taking us with them!”

The River Meird hoisted Burks’ leafboat body, and the Love Dreams carefully took them around the maze of massive stalactites and out of Lem’s terrible nightmare pool.

But they were still rising and running out of room.

Like the Pleasant Dreams in the Odd Woods, the swimming Love Dreams behaved almost free of their captivity as they sped up to complete their escape.

As the Love Dreams moved Jimmy and his group further along the River Meird, they joined the spot where the tribe must have gotten waxed when Lem awakened because loads of foam and salt, really rough white water that sparkled blue, seized their boat and began shaking the life out of them.

“Hang on!” Jimmy yelled over the determined river. “We’re in for a wild ride!”

Like a crazed waterpark ride, Burks’ leafboat bounced, dipped, and rose through tight bends in the tunnel. They coasted halfway up the walls at times, or they flipped upside down for the briefest of moments.

The glowing Love Dreams cradled the bottom and sides of the leafboat all the while, making sure they didn’t capsize or fall out. Safe for the most part, Jimmy admitted it was pretty darn stellar and even fun.

The River Meird took the last bend, dove down a throat-in-stomach slope, and hit the ramp leading to the tunnel’s opening at full tilt, exploding into the air.

To his horror and delight, the river didn’t drop but kept on soaring away from the caves, as if all rivers were born to fly.

Jimmy had never been on a magic carpet ride, but this had to be close.

Jimmy started laughing until he couldn’t stop giggling. How long had it been since he laughed like this? Jimmy’s laugh became infectious, and Lem caught it. Now they were laughing so hard together, they made each other laugh even harder.

Soon even the animals and Burks the leafboat were howling with laughter as they flew through the air in sheer joy.

Charley stuck his head out over the leaf’s side with his ears blowing back and jowls flapping like he often did when joyriding in the family car.

Only Francis remained genuinely horrified per usual; he kept in a shuddering ball at the bottom of the hull.

“Uh.” Lem traded laughing for gulps, tilting her head upwards. “Pretty sure we’re hosed!”

Jimmy and the others followed her wide-eyed gaze.

Fun moment over.

They drew ever closer to the rolling shadow of skocean above them.

“It’s going home!” Burks yelled.

“What?” Jimmy shouted back.

“The river. It’s actually Castle Meird’s moat. Undine said the castle’s up there, inside the skocean. I just put it together. That’s where we’re headed!”

“But we’ll drown or fall out and be squashed!” Lem said, gritting her teeth while sticking her head over the side.

The nearer they got to the giant bodies of converging water, the scent of salt and mud became so strong that it made them choke.

“Oh dear me,” Francis said, raising up from the floor of the boat.

The furious froth of a colossal upside-down breaker swiped the top of their heads. Salty foam splattered against everyone.

Charley flapped off the foam and barked, pointing with his nose. “Look at dat,” the dog said with admiration.

A Love Dream, ever high-spirited and full of mischief, leapt into the shrinking space between the two waters.

“Love Dreams….” Jimmy stuck his head over the side and shouted to the pods cushioning their sides. “Hey, help us get out of here!”

The Love Dreams swarmed around the leafboat’s stern and pushed the craft as if from shore. They peeled off clean just before the raging waters merged.

The flying leafboat leveled, lifted by a pocket of air, and was once again airborne, separated from the River Meird.

“That’s your brilliant idea?” Lem shouted. “Now we’re a freaking kamikaze paper airplane!”

Behind them, the Love Dreams jumped and splashed, celebrating their escape. Then the last of the river absorbed up inside the belly of the flying sea.

A sudden air current punched them upward, flattening everyone against the boat’s belly. They dropped in altitude in a casual, lazy drifting-leaf fashion.

Jimmy leaned back and put his arms behind his head. “This is kind of nice!”

Boy he ate those words as a gust hit them with ferocity, and they swayed and jerked from side to side with all of the gentleness of a crazed dragonfly. They leveled again and were taken wherever the air pockets and Jetstream cared to blow them. Jimmy gripped the sides of the leafplane with white knuckles to be sure he didn’t catapult out.

“Ack!” Lem turned green with every sudden change in direction.

Jimmy tried to make sense of the landscape. Not far below, a monstrous tree stump the size of a mountain towered up to meet them. And flowing into the tree stump from a thousand different angles was a complex network of roots.

“That’s it!” Jimmy said. “Just like the map on the gym floor. All of the roots lead to that tree. Wow, it’s a big sucker.”

Even Francis dared to let his curiosity get the best of him and leaned over the side, far enough to view the incredible stump like the others. “Dead stump, unequivocally enormous. But quite dead by its rotten appearance.”

Francis was right. The stump appeared twisted to Jimmy in a weird shape, like it had ambitions to become a pretzel and gave up. Its bark was dark. Strips of dilapidated bark fell off at random, creating mini-mushroom clouds on the ground. Everything about the stump was immense. Despite the rotten, moss-covered bark crumbling off the sides of the stump, a vibrant, thick jungle covered its top like an overgrown mane.

“Well, for my money, that stump is the perfect place for an emergency landing,” Jimmy said, pointing.

“Uh, if that’s what I think it might be, not a great place to land—not at all,” Burks said.

“Why?”

“Because I think that’s what’s left of the Dreaming Tree.”

“That’s your former leader?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Uh… sorry to interrupt. But if that’s where we’re going to land, we need to somehow steer this thing over to, uh… it,” Lem said. “Maybe we should all spread out and sit like we’re on a small plane!”

Jimmy nodded to his sister, and his eyes teared up from the velocity of the wind.

Lem moved to one side of the leaf, and Jimmy adjusted himself on the other. Charley sat behind them in the rear. Francis slipped into the depths of the pouch on Jimmy’s sweatshirt.

Jimmy stared down the stem at the opposite end of the boat.

“Wait a minute,” he said to himself. “I’ve got it backward. Charley, switch places with me. Quick!” Jimmy kept low, brushed by the dog, and placed his hand on the waxy red stem. “Just maybe….”

Jimmy pushed, and they swung stupid hard in the opposite direction, nearly flipping Lem and Charley out of the boat.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Jimmy said, keeping a steadier hand.

Francis poked his head out of the pouch, sniffed his disgust at Jimmy’s navigation skills, then ducked out of sight.

Lem grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. “Let me help you steady it.”

Jimmy nodded.

Once Lem helped him, the fluttering frond shifted in the direction of the stump just like they intended.

“Good teamwork!” Jimmy said to Lem.

She smiled.

Jimmy shrieked as the stump’s overgrown canopy rose up to meet them way too quickly.

“We’re coming in too fast—everybody drop—heads down!” Jimmy yelled just as nothing but green from the canopy exploded into their faces.

The airborne leaf flipped over and rolled into a disastrous crash landing.

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Hello listeners! In case you need to catch up before listening:

You can always find up to date written chapters of this story as it progresses in order under the KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

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Hello listeners! In case you need to catch up before listening:

You can always find up to date drops of this story as it progresses in order under the KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Get full access to Coffey House at coffey.substack.com/subscribe

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Hello listeners! In case you need to catch up before listening:

Please find the Written version ofChapter 8 here.

The Audio version of Chapter 8 is here.

You can always find up to date drops of this story as it progresses in order under the new KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Get full access to Coffey House at coffey.substack.com/subscribe

View Details

In case you need to catch up before listening:

Please find the Written version ofChapter 7 here.

The Audio version of Chapter 7 is here.

You can always find up to date drops of this story as it progresses in order under the new KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Coffey House is a reader-supported newsletter. Quality storytelling, writing, illustration, and narration requires time and resources. The best way to support me and to get more stories more often is by taking out a paid subscription:

Get full access to Coffey House at coffey.substack.com/subscribe

View Details

In case you need to catch up before listening:

Please find the Written version ofChapter 6 here.

The Audio version of Chapter 6 is here.

You can always find up to date drops of this story as it progresses in order under the new KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Get full access to Coffey House at coffey.substack.com/subscribe

View Details

Hello listeners!

I hope this finds everyone well.

In case you need to catch up to the current story, KINGDOM OF DREAMS:

Please find Chapter 5 audio here.

Please find Chapter 7 audio here soon.

You can always find up to date drops of the written story as it progresses in order under the KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Enjoy! -KC

Coffey House is a reader-supported newsletter. Quality storytelling, writing, illustration, and narration requires time and resources. The best way to support me and to get more stories more often is by taking out a paid subscription:

Get full access to Coffey House at coffey.substack.com/subscribe

View Details

Hello listeners!

I hope this finds everyone well.

In case you need to catch up to the current story, KINGDOM OF DREAMS:

Please find Chapter 4 audio here.

Please find Chapter 6 audio here.

You can always find up to date drops of the written story as it progresses in order under the KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Enjoy! -KC

Coffey House is a reader-supported newsletter. Quality storytelling, writing, illustration, and narration requires time and resources. The best way to support me and to get more stories more often is by taking out a paid subscription:

Thank you for reading Coffey House. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Hello listeners!

I hope this finds everyone well. I’ve had some technical difficulties with producing audio last, but I think I’ve fixed the glitch, so we’re in business again. The Chapter 5 audio link will be live here and sent out soon.

In case you need to catch up to the current story, KINGDOM OF DREAMS:

Please find Chapter 3 audio here.

Please find Chapter 5 audio here.

You can always find up to date drops of the written story as it progresses in order under the KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

All audio can be found under the Coffey House Podcast tab.

Enjoy! -KC

Coffey House is a reader-supported newsletter. Quality storytelling, writing, illustration, and narration requires time and resources. The best way to support me and to get more stories more often is by taking out a paid subscription:

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Happy Friday everyone. Just a quick answering machine style voicemail (remember those?) updating you on the current state of affairs of Coffey House. Just 4 minutes of your life required to listen.

The highlights:

Coffey House currently has 800 subscribers (welcome new subscribers!)

Goal: most likely need to reach 20,000 + subscribers to do this full-time

Substack chose Coffey House as one of 4 featured newsletters for their weekly Shout Out Zoom presentation. I had fun presenting Coffey House and recommending Futbol by Grant Wahl

Art Gallery coming that will feature all of my illustrations from every story I post

Videos coming of me creating illustrations, will probably send video updates as well as long as I don’t kill my computer’s memory

How can you help share Coffey House on social media, etc? Click below!!:

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I hope this finds everyone well.

In case you need to catch up to the current story, KINGDOM OF DREAMS:

Please find Chapter 2 text here.

Please find Chapter 2 audio here.

You can always find any of this story as it progresses in order under the new KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab on my home page.

Enjoy! -KC

Coffey House is a reader-supported newsletter. You can sign up (free or paid) to get my posts in your inbox. Quality storytelling: writing, illustration, and narration, requires time and resources. The best way to support me and to get more stories more often is by taking out a paid subscription:

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I hope this finds everyone well.

As always, in case you need to catch up to the current story, KINGDOM OF DREAMS:

Please find Chapter 1 text here, the audio version of Chapter 1 is here.

I’ll drop the text and audio version of Chapter 3 soon. (And yes, it is me doing the narrating and having a blast doing so!)

You can always find any of this story as it progresses in order on my home page under the new KINGDOM OF DREAMS tab up top.

Enjoy! -KC-

Coffey House is a reader-supported newsletter. You can sign up (free or paid) to get my posts in your inbox. Quality storytelling: writing, illustration, and narration, requires time and resources. The best way to support me and to get more stories more often is by taking out a paid subscription:

Get full access to Coffey House at coffey.substack.com/subscribe

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Hey everyone. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

This is the audio version of Kingdom of Dreams, chapter one. This is something new I’ll be offering either in tandem with posting new chapters, or slightly after as I improve and tweak things on my site.

Please let me know in the comments if you have trouble hearing this, the audio quality, etc.

I should be able to send out Chapter 2 tomorrow. I’m going to try to keep Fridays as my typical posting days for chapters from my books.

Stay safe and stay well!

Pleasant Dreams,

Kevin

Go forth to Chapter 2!:

Audio

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