(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hello Coffey House readers. I hope this finds everyone well.

* 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.

Enjoy! -KC

Panic overwhelmed every inch of Jimmy’s being. It was difficult to breathe. His ribs burned.

He closed his eyes and put his ear to his sister’s mouth. What had he done? WHAT HAD HE DONE?

“No, no, NO! Tell me you’re still here—show me something!”

Lem wouldn’t so much as flinch. Nothing.

Jimmy began vigorously rubbing her back and hands and feet. Probably an idiotic thing to do, but he’d read or heard somewhere restoring circulation revived people. He pressed his ear to her mouth, again and again, listening. Still nothing.

NO! Time ate at Jimmy like a leech. Each new second drained him of tons of precious energy and sanity. I’m losing her! After too many panicked tries, and his body lathered in sweat, Jimmy collapsed beside his sister and rested his head on her shoulder. What do I do?

The slightest puff of hot breath warmed Jimmy’s ear.

“Yes!” Jimmy shouted out loud, not caring much at the moment if a horde of nightmares descended upon them. He closely examined his sister. Was she breathing? Lem’s chest rose and fell. She was breathing! He exhaled for days, spent.

“You’re not dead!” Jimmy proclaimed. She wasn’t quite right either. She wouldn’t wake, for one thing. What had he done to her? The question attacked him again and again without letting up. And… Was it his imagination, or was her breathing a bit… off?

He thought of Dromon, its ogling, swollen eyes, its whispering voice. IT had done this—not him, Jimmy thought. But it didn’t make him feel any better.

Once Jimmy calmed down from fearing the worst, he tried everything imaginable to wake her: pinching her cheeks, pulling her toes, yelling “Leah Emily” at the top of his lungs. Nothing worked.

He even dared a real no-no: he petted the shaved portion of his sister’s head while she was out of it. It was smooth and velvety to the touch, like the fur of a rare exotic animal. She was definitely deep in La La Land because she would have broken his fingers one by one if she were the slightest bit awake.

Instead, her token smirk spread wider across her face the longer she slumbered, like she was enjoying a much-needed rest. A rasping sound to her breathing rattled out of her throat.

What to do? There was no one to call, no one to help. His parents were on Earth while he was literally in an entirely different freaking world for crying out loud. And what was he going to do, drag her around like human luggage?

A new emotion came to him—a rush of adrenalin with a fresh coat of fear. He was in charge all right, but he didn’t necessarily like it or want it. Right now, his sister was a drooling, jacked-up version of Sleeping Beauty. (Kissing her was out of the question, of course.)

He wouldn’t leave her, that was rooted in his heart. Rotten as she was, she didn’t deserve this—whatever this was. Jimmy pouted for a bit, mad at himself at his failure to check his anger, and now he was dealing with the unbridled effects of an evidently very real and obviously powerful curse.

He recalled speaking the word out loud that took the other bullies off the board. Dromon would probably come for her sooner than later. He couldn’t let that happen.

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Jimmy tried to drag Lem back to his bed sitting by itself in their empty muddy yard, then concluded they’d gone farther than he thought into the strange realm.

He mulled over, running to check if the bed was even still there. He might try bringing his parents back, but that would have taken too long, and he didn’t dare leave Lem unguarded.

Best bet might be to head in the direction their animals had been going. Lem also had wanted to check on their pets first. So he grunted his way down the row of trees, heaving Lem by her armpits.

Jimmy took countless breaks (and might have ‘accidentally’ dropped her a few times). Their slow, clumsy progression went on for far longer than he could cope with. Jimmy had doubts about their chosen direction and was about to give up and just go back to the bed when arguing voices stopped him in his tracks.

“If I had more flexible paws, I’d write a noble treatise about how we so-called pets raise the human condition. Perhaps I shall dictate to a monkey? Anyway, contrary to whimsical fantasy, humans are, in fact, our pets,” said the same high-pitched voice Jimmy had heard broadcasted from his bed.

“Ooh! I uh… how do you say, I can’t remember—what’s the word? I degree,” answered a much deeper tone.

“The word you’re searching for, my stout fellow, is agree.”

“I agree! We take care of them, our… pets. We love them!”

“Love is such a frivolous, overused word. It must be reserved for advanced feelings and special occasions. Like tuna. Tuna is worthy of passionate love.”

“And bacon.”

“Bah! Bacon is a lesser morsel not worthy of the greater delicacies. Do you have any fathom what bacon really is?”

“Well, yeah. Good to eat!”

“Oh, by the Great Puma, you canines could use some proper etiquette training…”

Beyond curious, Jimmy edged closer to the now-heated conversation, grunting at the dead weight of his sister. How did she swim so fast? It was like he was hauling an orca around.

Finally, he ducked his head under the source of the quirky voices: an umbrella of leaves and knotted branches that must have provided good cover from the storm.

Sheltered beneath—and perfectly dry—sat Francis and Charley, catching their breath and having a debate that had now debased to hissing and growling. Like Jimmy and Lem and unlike the black and white world around them, the pets still remained in color.

Jimmy ditched his unconscious sister and stared at their pets in flabbergasted shock. Animals debating?!

The dog and cat stopped quarreling and stared up at him.

“Alright, Master?” Francis nodded and slowly closed his eyes and opened them in greeting.

“Uh, hi,” Jimmy struggled to respond.

The cat licked a wet paw out of habit. “We’re a bit knackered and taking a bit of a breather—not to mention hiding out from the murderous weather. Oh—better tidings, thankfully. We were able to visit the loo, that clump of brush just ahead. Don’t walk over there by any measure—we left it in a dreadful state. Uh, Charles was a bit excitable, and… we’ll leave it at that.”

Jimmy stiffened with equal parts apprehension and amazement. The entire situation was now full-blown surreal.

“Hey, slowpokes!” Charley said, wagging his entire body and giving out wet kisses. Then his dark brow narrowed. “Hey, what’s wrong with Lem? She never naps without me.”

Lem squeezed Jimmy’s wrist so hard, it cut off his circulation.

Jimmy yelped, spooked beyond belief by a combination of animals talking and Lem’s off condition. Of course, this caused barks and yowls. Lem—still smirking—stayed still as a stone.

Too much ruckus. Jimmy figured every nightmare in the realm was probably stampeding toward them by now.

Charley whined and poked at his owner with his nose, getting no response. He licked her face.

“What happened to the poor girl? Were there any other witnesses?” Francis inquired. The cat began patrolling around with a swish of his tail, examining the scene like a seasoned Scotland Yard detective attempting to gather vital evidence. His cat sniffed at scores of beaded up branches and practically each individual leaf, and then dissected every speck of dirt with his claws, attempting to dig up clues. 

“I… uh,” Jimmy said, leaving it at that.

Both pets stared up at Jimmy. He wanted to tell them the truth, but, despite the talking—they were animals! They wouldn’t understand.

Jimmy wished Burks were around, but his head was strangely devoid of voices at the moment. Is this what it’s like to be a balanced, normal person? he thought. Silence and acceptance of being in the moment instead of an obnoxious play-by-play announcer with opinions on everything?

“She just sort of collapsed and started snoozing hard,” Jimmy finally said, almost convincingly. A lie, not without suffering some pangs of guilt at first to tell, but he deemed it a minor fib, and technically, sort of the truth.

Francis placed a tiny paw on Lem’s neck and frowned. “Hmm… Her pulse is adequate, but, tsk, tsk—something’s afoot with her breathing.”

Francis’s words stabbed Jimmy as the guilt seeped further in.

Lem began to twitch and mumbled in her sleep. Jimmy and the animals leaned in to study Lem’s condition up close.

“She’s… ah—dirty biscuits!” Charley attempted to say, “don’t have a word.”

“Dreaming,” Francis answered.

“Yeah: dree-ah-ming,” Charley tried out the word.

Francis sat with perfect posture and purpose at Jimmy’s feet, his yellow eyes fixed upon Jimmy’s blues. “Well, as your chosen counsel that you can now understand quite plain thanks to the unknown magics of this world, I strongly suggest the smart choice is to turn tail and go home.” Francis smoothed his whiskers out with a paw. “I presume your mission is to solve and fix the ills of this world, but there are obvious facts. We don’t understand the physics of how things operate here, and that might lead to quite dangerous circumstances. Cats are expert survivors, and let me tell you, my instincts suggest our chances here are slim to none. Don’t you agree, Master James?”

Having his cat call him Master James was plenty surreal enough, but Jimmy found himself nodding.

Silently, Charley helped Jimmy gather up Lem; by resting her legs over the dog’s back, they could share the weight, and it was much easier to deal with her—even a bit fun.

“Blind me, will you look at that?” Francis said, staring up at the heavens.

They fixed their eyes upwards with awe as the last sliver of sun rose upwards into the darkening skocean with a hiss, extinguishing all the light as if someone blew out a candle.

“Okay,” Jimmy sighed, “let’s get Lem home safe and sound first, then—”

A gust of wind rattled the tops of the trees behind them. Jimmy whipped his head around, scanning the sky and trees in all directions.

“Something’s up bare,” Charley whined.

Jimmy held his breath, thinking, Not here. Not now.

At the exact arrival of darkness, something rustled the forest's joined canopy. Something fell, spinning in lazy circles, and landed on Jimmy's shoe. Jimmy touched it. It had a smooth rounded surface ending in a hard tail: a leaf. The temperature dropped several degrees, along with the air pressure. Not again! Jimmy thought.

Their pets were on high alert as well, checking their whereabouts with wide eyes and antenna ears.

“S-storm,” Charley chattered.

To say the chunky pooch was terrified of storms was putting it mildly. Lem usually had to wrap him in a special fitted blanket they made for dogs with storm phobias to deal with ruckus weather, then she had to sit with him in her closet until it passed. (Jimmy thought they should trade phobias there because, in his opinion, dark closets were the worst.)

A violent, moaning gust pinned them in place. The wind snaked around their frozen frames, exploring them before it withdrew.

Jimmy's backpack leapt off his shoulders. He turned and grabbed for it, but he couldn’t let go of Lem to get it. “What the—hey! Get back here!”

The unseen foul-weathered thing had somehow cut his shoulder straps, and now his backpack rose high above the tangled roots of the woven-together forest like a rebellious kite. He barely made out the pack's lumpy shape as it caught against something in the dark.

Jimmy dug in his pocket and pulled out a small but powerful flashlight. He flicked it on, and a tiny orb of bright light revealed his backpack, hovering in place just over the trees.

He spotlighted a section of trees being shaken so hard by the wind it temporarily untangled their knotted branches. The crooked branches cracked against one another in distress, like bendable bones. “Help us! For the Bard's sake, help us! It's the Lurking!” screamed the flailing trees.

“The trees are talking!” Charley said, amazed.

“Yes, it seems to be catching—but what the devil is that thing?” Francis asked.

Something gleamed, reflecting the penlight's beam: a single, crooked, yellow fang! The vile tooth was as long and sharp as an assassin's dagger. The thing the trees called “the Lurking” smiled at them!

Charley's nose twitched. “Smell something—no, someone—in the wind!”

“Yessssshhh,” answered a vicious voice. A swelling storm reshuffled the leaves around them. “Meeeeeee.”

A powerful gust punched the backpack out of sight, forever lost.

“Little Reve.” A familiar voice hummed with the volume of a rock concert, full of confidence and threat.

“Bucky?” Jimmy addressed the air with horror.

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