River of Possibilities: Guardians of Imagination Book 1

By Becky Steiner

Imagination is on the verge of extinction. 

 

Mortimer Media III's global enterprise, MediaVerse, has one mission: terminate Imagination. Success is imminent after the release of his specially designed prog-bots that are eliminating creative thinking in everyone who looks at a screen. 

 

Twelve year ol

• Language: English
• Publisher: KidzWayK12
• Release date: Nov 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737109037

Book preview

Warning from the Guardians of Imagination

My name is Merryment, and I bring you this warning on behalf of the Guardians of Imagination. Days are grim. Imagination dims. Her light diminishes, as does nature, beauty, virtue, and unity.

Progs are bots. Engineered by Domination, from the World of Domination. Some time ago, Domination Dictators selected the Media family to advance its mission on Earth’s Reality—where you live. Today, Mortimer Media III is its ambassador. Mortimer Media III created MediaVerse, and it dominates. The progs of MediaVerse and Domination are programmed to do one thing: terminate Imagination. They have infected all technological screens. Chances are, if you’ve looked at a screen, you’ve been infected.

I lead the Guardians of Imagination, and we’re called imangels. We are born in the World of Imagination. Each imangel is assigned to one child for as long as he or she remains active in his or her imagination. The imangel’s purpose is to guard and preserve the child’s imagination and help the imagination to stay vibrant, active, and pure. Long ago, imangels were as numerous in Earth’s Reality as the sand on the seashore.

Today, only two are left. I fear it may be too late to save Imagination. However, hope is not lost. There is one girl who just may be able to help. Yes, one girl. And one boy. With our last two imangels, anything is possible for those who imagine.

Do not fear. But do limit your screen usage—just in case.

1

Magical Tat

When adventure comes-a-tappin’, don’t be scared.

But do open the window.

Such was the lesson learned on a not-so-normal night. I was nine-years-old when I almost drowned in a talking river that insisted on taking me to a most whimsical place.

On that not-so-normal night in early October, everything up until the point I shut my eyes to go to sleep had been routine. Brushed my teeth, ensuring optimal dental hygiene. Got into my jammies, of the Mary Poppins sort. Said my prayers, Mum insisted. Listened to Mum read a short fable in her fake, but believable British accent. (BTW: We’re not from England; we’re from Michigan. One day Mum had suggested, Hey, you should call me Mum, wouldn’t that be fun?)

Then, off to la-la land, I almost went.

But first, I needed to make a wish. A prayerful wish.

God, I wish Daddy didn’t die so that Mum could be happy again.

I fluffed my pillow, ready to go to sleep, when I remembered to add, "Oh, while you’re at it, granting wishes and all, could I live in a treehouse, like the one in the Swiss Family Robinson book Mum’s reading to me?"

Hmmm, anything else while I have his undivided attention? Oh! With all the fire and brimstone you have at your disposal, could you get rid of advertisements, and commercials? … That’s just if you have time.

Finally, after my nightly routine, I fell asleep.

Until something nudged me awake. Wide awake.

And that’s when adventure came-a-tappin’.

Tat. Tat. Tat.

A noise. Maybe I was hearing things.

My nose twitched and tickled like a feather was tapping it.

Tat. Tat. Tat.

Normally, a tatting noise wouldn’t bother me. But at—I checked my alarm clock—12:37 a.m., how could it not? Creaking houses and creaking crickets were one thing. But this was not those.

Monsters! Monsters were known to creep around kids’ bedrooms this time of year. Could monsters really be real? Be here in my room? Be outside my window?

Tat. Tat. Tat.

I tilted my head toward the window. Toward the tatting.

Sure was a pesky tatting. If it was a monster, I vowed to be brave. To face it head-on and command it to go away. I could be commanding.

Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

I sat up in my bed and stared at the window. If only I was blessed with x-ray vision and not just the imaginary sort. I tried not to be afraid. After all, what sort of ravenous monster would choose to hide behind soft pink petal curtains? I could see maybe a magical unicorn. Or a multi-colored pony. Or some other cutesy whimsical creature.

It was a cool, crisp full moon night, so anything was possible.

Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat. A little louder that time.

Hello? I said, hopefully sounding brave to whomever, or whatever was tatting at my window.

Nothing.

I twirled my legs from under my Mickey Mouse covers and dangled them off the side of the bed facing the window. My mouth hung open. I’d been holding my breath.

The moon cast a gentle glow through the curtains, and shadows began swirling about.

Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

I slid my tiny toes into worn down, yet still cozy, slippers.

I scooted one foot in front of the other toward the window, careful to stay hush-hush.

I froze, oozing out a shaky sigh. I should’ve called for Mum. But I told myself, "No! You be brave Amelia Reegenpaupp! You do not need Mum for this. Whatever’s tatting at that window, you will defeat it!"

I continued forward, slowly, until I reached the curtain.

Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

I paused. Be brave, I whispered to myself, not as boldly as before, but it was a goal. Be. Brave.

Tat. Tat. I cast open the curtain to see a fat wooden cane finish out the Rat-it-tat-tat. In the background was my bestie, Malakai (Kai, for short), doing a sort of Running Man dance to the tatting.

And there you are, said an old man holding the tatting cane.

Yeah, finally, geesh! Kai said, pushing up his glasses that had slid to the tip of his nose. He whipped out a Batman-head Pez dispenser and popped a Pez in his mouth.

I opened the window halfway until the clunking opposition of the childproof bar stopped it. Yes, here I am, I said through the half-opened window. "You scared the wit outta me with all your tatting."

And would you rather me have yelled, ‘Awaken and come out here this instant, Miss Amelia Reegenpaupp, with two p’s’? the old man asked in a crackly voice.

I examined the mysterious, tall, lanky old man to see if he could be a maniacal serial killer. The old guy had a decent amount of thinning gray hair, most of it combed over to one side. His lips were tight under a slit of a mustache. His face and ears were long, and he seemed like he could let out a hearty laugh, as well as a stern scolding. Probably not a serial killer. Maybe a mall Santa if you added tummy-plumping cushions and a frosty white beard. Or maybe a Gandalf-like wizard. He had to be okay. Right?

You’re not a monster, are you? I had to ask.

Kai let out a roaring laugh. A monster? Amelia, you’re funny!

Are you a monster? the old man asked me.

Kai continued laughing, nudging his glasses up his nose with each gut-shuddering chuckle.

No, I’m not, I said, confidently. Well, then, are you real?

Kai laughed harder, putting his hands on his stomach.

Because we have friends that aren’t, I added.

"He’s not one of those friends," Kai said.

Ah, then we are friends, the old man said. Well, now that that is settled, come now. We must be off so we shan’t be late.

Yes! Kai said, ready for adventure.

Off to where? I asked.

Why, off to the River of Possibilities, an adventure unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Now, let’s be off. With that, the old man tapped his cane against the side of my window.

Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

I can’t go at this hour, I protested. "Mum would not be happy."

So, what! Kai said. Mine wouldn’t either—that’s why I want to go!

But—

"Don’t but this, Kai said. Adventure’s what we do! Only this time I think it’s for real."

He has you there, the old man said. So, what do you say, Miss Amelia Reegenpaupp? With that, he lifted his cane again and tapped the side of the window. Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

The old man frowned. I see you are still resistant.

Huh? I asked. I mean really, why was he still tatting my window?

Do you want to come or not?

"Come on, Amelia, Kai whined. We pretty much do this all the time."

But I don’t get into trouble for our pretend adventures! … At least, not always.

Bah! the old man bantered. No more talk. Either you want to change the world, or you don’t. Your choice, but it must be made now.

The old man lifted his cane but stopped short of tatting it.

Kai pushed his glasses up his nose, giving me pleading eyes.

Beyond Kai and the old man, the full moon spotlighted the forest, showcasing it for dramatic effect. The trees whispered a winsome sound as if trying to convince me that entering its hospitable abode was a good thing to do.

A cricket called.

A toad toppled another in pursuit of more dirt.

And some other varmint with glowing eyes appeared, then disappeared back into the woods.

I had often believed that the forest was magical. Isn’t that what a forest is supposed to be?

Magical.

But I had never dared to go into one at such an hour, and with a mysterious old man at that. Like I said, Mum would not approve. Nor would Mum approve of Kai being outside my window beckoning me at this hour. Mysterious as the old man was, he also seemed familiar. Like I had known him from a time long ago. So, right or wrong, I figured that since he was an adult and Santa-like with a hint of Gandalf wizardry, and funny, I would risk it and go.

Well, all right then, I finally said. But I shouldn’t be out too late.

Bah! the old man said. You’ll be back right when you need to be.

I can’t fit through the window—meet you by the front door.

That won’t be necessary, the old man said with a grin. He tapped his cane on the window. Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

The glass window turned to gel, then disappeared.

Make haste now, Miss Amelia Reegenpaupp, he said. It won’t be gone forever.

My jaw dropped, as did Kai’s. Whoa, Kai marveled.

Ah, the tatting, now it made sense. Magical.

I slid through the invisible window and placed my tiny slippered feet onto the dewy, grassy ground. My ankle-long Mary Poppins nightgown didn’t feel adequate for the adventure. But, then again, Kai’s sneakers, baseball t-shirt, and flannel pajama pants didn’t scream warriors and warlords or wizards and witches, either. Speaking of wizards.…

That was magical, I noted of the disappearing window. Are you a wizard?

Bah! the old man said. You kids and your wizards and witches and gnomes.

Kai and I looked at each other. Gnomes? we mouthed.

I am not a wizard nor any such creature, he said. I can simply defy the laws of physics on a whim.

Deff … fizz … what? I wondered.

The old man thought for a moment. Right, you are younglings. We will settle it with: I can do what appears impossible.

The old man put his cane back up to the window. Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat. The window reappeared and was completely closed.

The old man looked at Kai and me.

We stared back at him, wondering, What now?

Right, then, we’re off, he said. Follow me and stay close.

2

Earth Heals

Nighttime dew coated the ground, which made my slippers and feet feel squirmy and soggy. The old man walked to the edge of the forest and stopped. He batted twigs out of the way with his cane and then disappeared into the wooded wonder.

Kai and I glanced at each other, wondering who’d go next.

Kai shrugged and said, I’ll go. He dove into the forest on the old man’s heels.

I admit I was a bit scared. My belly felt like it was housing flittering bats. I knew the only way to get rid of the feeling was to get moving. So, I plunged into the forest.

I tracked close behind the old man and Kai, trudging over small brush and branches. The full moon cracked through the trees and offered its light as an escort. The autumn breeze dropped dead leaves upon damp twigs as the three of us slogged our way along winding paths.

Watch your step, Miss Amelia Rae Reegenpaupp and Mr. Malakai Noah Fenbender, the old man called out.

"How do you know us? And what’s your name?" I asked.

You may call me Mr. Charles. And who says I know you?

Kai laughed while kicking aside branches.

Um, you know our names, I said.

I know your names, Mr. Charles confirmed. And I know that you, Miss Amelia, are nine-years-old and that you, Mr. Malakai are the ripe old age of eight. But who says I know you?

Crickets creaked.

Kai stopped laughing and curled his nose and shook his head.

A scared skunk was nearby.

Mr. Charles stopped next to an oak tree and tapped its enormously wide trunk. Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat. The tree lifted its branches just a smidgen, allowing us to walk under without being bopped in the head. Mr. Charles nodded to the old oak, and the old oak let out a gracious groan.

So, how do you know our names and how old we are? I asked.

Because I was told that you are Miss Amelia Rae Reegenpaupp, with two p’s, he said. And that you are nine. And that your … how do you kids say? Your BUFF?

Kai and I looked at each other, and then back at Mr. Charles. BFF? I questioned.

That must be it! Best Friends Forever, not Best Ultimate Friends Forever, Mr. Charles said with a knowing smile. I was told that your BFF is Mr. Malakai Noah Fenbender, and that he was eight-years-old.

Who told you? I asked.

Kai had to be getting dizzy. He looked forward at Mr. Charles when he spoke. He looked back at me when I spoke. Forward and back. But then again, if ten minutes nonstop on the merry-go-round at maximum warp didn’t faze him, why would this?

Mr. Charles sighed. If I told you who told me, would you then be silent for the duration of our journey?

I thought about it. More information could be well worth the price of silence. So, I let out my heartiest, Yes!

Well, then I won’t tell because I rather enjoy listening to you talk.

That’s when I knew he was weird. No one ever said that to me. Ever. No fair! I protested.

Kai laughed.

All will be made clear soon enough, Miss Amelia.

Farther into our journey, Mr. Charles stopped by a pond and seemed to be considering something. He looked this way and then he looked that way.

Kai and I stopped, too. Like Mr. Charles, we looked this way, and then we looked that way. Kai whipped out his Pez dispenser. He popped a Pez, then offered to me, Pez?

Of course! I said and I also popped a Pez.

Mr. Charles looked up at the star-speckled sky as if seeking the moon and stars for advice. He kept tatting his cane on the ground like a countdown. Tat. Tat. Tat. Tat. Tat.

There was no Rat-it-tat-tat.

Along one path, weeds, brush, twigs, and branches for as far the moon’s glow would go. Along the opposite path was a narrow, well-worn trail between two small ponds.

Yes, okay then, off we go, Mr. Charles said, shuffling toward the tangled forest foliage. He lifted his cane and dabbed the tip of a plant sprouting thorns.

Tat. Tat. Rat-it-tat-tat.

The brush began to carve a path.

Kai galloped into the field yelling, This is way cool!

A horrible dread rushed over me. My eyes squished shut. A vision played out of Kai kneeling on the ground, crying, holding his head. No, Kai! Wait! I yelled, opening my eyes.

The thorns and brush cleared, but not fast enough. Kai caught his leg on a branch, tripped, and fell into a bush of small thorns. Owwww, he moaned.

Mr. Malakai Noah Fenbender! Mr. Charles called out. What have you done?

I ran ahead, not waiting for the elderly Mr. Charles. Kai, are you okay? I asked. I squatted next to him and patted his back.

Kai glided back unto his legs, rubbing his forehead.

Blood dribbled down his face and mingled with his short blonde wavy hair.

Move aside, Mr. Charles said, approaching. Move. Aside. He tatted me on the hip with his cane, motioning for me to move, so I did.

Let me see, Mr. Charles said.

Kai sniffled, dabs of tears mixing with blood. Do we gotta go home now? Do I gotta go to the hospital and get stitches? Am I gonna bleed to death?

Bah! Mr. Charles said. This is petite petunias for Mr. Charles. I will wipe it away, just you see. Just stay still, Mr. Malakai. He placed his hand over Kai’s hand, probably to move it out of the way so he could tend to the wound.

"Are you gonna tat my head with your cane?" Kai asked.

Bah! Mr. Charles said. Cane’s too big for your head. Instead, he cupped a handful of dirt, spit into it, and