by Paige Britt
Her? Full of possibilities? It couldn’t be true.
“You don’t understand,” Penelope said with a shake of her head. “I tried to
use the moodle hat to find you. But I couldn’t make the hat work. Nothing came
to mind. Dill even called it a . . .” Penelope paused. She didn’t want to say the
word — the word that had been haunting her ever since she’d heard it. But
there was the Great Moodler looking at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to
finish.
Penelope rushed the words out of her mouth. “He called it an anomaly.”
“Exactly!” said the Great Moodler with one big, exaggerated nod of
her head.
Penelope took a step back. “Exactly? Exactly what?”
“Don’t you know what an anomaly is?”
“It’s a failure, isn’t it?”
“My goodness, no! Quite the opposite. An anomaly is an oddity, a quirk,
a rarity. You are all those things and I couldn’t be more pleased.” The Great
Moodler beamed up at Penelope as if she’d won a prize. “You see, an ordinary
person would have turned into a Clockworker by now. But you figured out
exactly where I was right from the start!”
Penelope’s heart skipped. “I did?”
“Didn’t you say you moodled on my whereabouts and nothing came to
mind?” The Great Moodler held out her arms to embrace the nothing all
around. “Ta-da!”
Penelope’s jaw dropped. The truth of what the Great Moodler said slowly
dawned on her. She remembered the gentle whirring of the hat and the bright,
beautiful nothing that opened up inside her as she wore it. No wonder this place
looked familiar! She had seen it all before! “Do you mean I did come up with a
big idea?” asked Penelope. “I knew where you were all along?”
“Indeed,” said the Great Moodler. “You’re a first-rate moodler.”
Penelope still couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “My ideas aren’t
stuck? I can be a writer?”
“Of course!” said the Great Moodler. “Now then, let’s get busy. We’ve got
work to do. The Fancies will be here any minute.”
The Great Moodler whirled around and plopped down into a nonexistent
chair. She pulled a
do not disturb sign out of the nothing and hung it above her
head. After settling herself in more comfortably, she let out a deep, humming
sigh. As she did, small, brightly colored bubbles streamed out of her ears.
Penelope watched as the bubbles danced back and forth, growing larger.
I’m free, thought Penelope. All along I thought I couldn’t moodle. But I could.
Miss Maddie was right — all I needed was space. This space. Penelope felt a surge of
excitement. She would help fatten up the Fancies, free Dill, and save the
Coo-Coo’s home — save the entire Realm! All she had to do was moodle.
At that moment, a few Fancies began to trickle into the Realm of
Impossibility. They were pale and wan, shriveled by exertion. Penelope watched
as they crowded around the bubbles streaming out of the Great Moodler’s head,
filling the air with their peeps and squeaks. One of the bubbles started to grow
bigger and bigger until . . .
POP!
It broke into a million pieces of light. The Fancies sprang into action, swoop-
ing through the air and gobbling up the bright shards. The tiny creatures began to
glow as the light danced in their stomachs, puffing them up and up until . . .
PFTTTHHH! They let out a sound like a balloon losing all its air and spun wildly
around. Once they came to a halt, they pounced on another morsel. After each
bite, the Fancies were bigger and brighter than before. They filled the sky, bobbing
about like gigantic balloons. They were every color of the rainbow and then some.
They were so fat, so fluffy, that only the tips of their toes could be seen.
Penelope picked a bit of light off her sleeve and examined it closely. There,
glimmering in perfect clarity, were the words:
Fudge is a health food.
“It’s a possibility!” said Penelope. Just then a particularly energetic Fancy
swooped down and snatched it out of her hand. “Hey!” Penelope tried to snatch
it back, but the Fancy was too fast. It swallowed the possibility and set off to join
the others with a loud burp.
Penelope looked at the possibilities falling softly all around her. I guess
there’s enough for everybody, she thought and reached out to catch another one. A
flash of light suddenly blinded her and she shielded her eyes before — plunk —
something soft landed on her chest and tumbled into the front pocket of her
overalls. Penelope reached into her pocket and took out a tiny possibility.
Squinting, she read the words:
You can do it.
The possibility sent a shock through Penelope and she let out a sharp gasp.
The Great Moodler popped one eye open. “What’s all the fuss?”
Penelope cupped her hand around the possibility, hiding it from any
hungry Fancies, and walked over to the Great Moodler. “Take a look,” she said,
opening her hand ever so slightly.
The Great Moodler peered at it and then leaned back
with a knowing smile. “You got a good one. That’s
what I call a Least Possibility. Very tiny, but very powerful. They can grow
to be unusually large, if you really consider them. That possibility right
there can take you all the way to the moon.” She gave Penelope a wink.
Penelope dropped the possibility back into her pocket. By now,
more and more Fancies were streaming into the Realm. They
scattered in every direction looking for food. The Great Moodler had returned
to her moodling and the air was full of bubbles, some of which had already
begun to grow.
Penelope heard a chirping sound and glanced up. An emaciated little
Fancy was buzzing around her head. I’d better get busy, she thought.
She sat down, crossed her legs, and took out her notebook. She’d been
so caught up in trying to escape from the tower, she’d forgotten all about it.
Opening it, she stared at a blank page. It was empty, full
of nothing, just like the Realm of Impossibility.
She took out her pencil and wrote about all the things that tickled
her Fancy. She wrote about drinking tea with the Great Moodler, about
following her hunch and discovering the no-time, about the Timekeeper
and the Coo-Coo. About everything she’d seen on her journey.
A large group of Fancies crowded around her, vying for spots
over her shoulder. They munched hungrily, growing fatter by
the moment, feasting on her every word.
On and on she wrote. Here in the Realm of Impossibility, her words
took flight above her head, coming to life as the story took shape. And
as she wrote, time stood still, waiting
patiently for her to finish.
“That ninny! That — that twit!” The Great Moodler was looking through her
spyglass, furiously trying to focus the lens.
Penelope looked up from her moodling. “Who’s a ninny? Who’s a twit?”
“See for yourself,” grumbled the Great Moodler, pointing toward the
Shadow of Doubt.
Penelope closed her notebook and got to her feet. She brought out her
spygl
ass and quickly scanned the darkness for anything peculiar. Everywhere
she looked, she saw Fancies lifting the Shadow. A few were speeding toward the
Realm of Impossibility for their next meal. Penelope sent her gaze farther out,
this time using the spyglass to follow the line of the horizon. That’s when she
saw it. Poking above the Shadow was a shiny, pointed spire glinting in a sun it
had not seen in ages.
“It’s the clock tower,” said Penelope glumly.
“That’s not all,” replied the Great Moodler. “Look again.”
Penelope moved her spyglass down the spire to where it met the roof.
Clockworkers were swarming all over it. Each Clockworker wore a safety
harness secured by ropes to great metal rungs high above them. They were
inching along the tower’s ledge, carrying ladders, toolboxes, and other gadgets
Penelope didn’t recognize.
chapter eighteen
“What are they doing?” Penelope whispered, as if the Clockworkers could
hear her.
“They’re fixing that awful clock,” said the Great Moodler through
gritted teeth.
Sure enough, Penelope noticed a new glass plate fitted on the clock face.
Some of the Clockworkers had scaled the side of the tower and were welding
the plate in place.
Perched on the ledge, polishing the Roman numerals, was a tall, strangely
familiar figure. He wore the blue coveralls of the Clockworkers, but his long
arms and legs poked out well past the hems. Other than his unusual height, he
looked exactly like any other Clockworker. He had the same blank look on his
face and he moved with jerky automated movements. Just as with all the other
Clockworkers, a blue hat sat on his head, but it couldn’t conceal the wild red
hair beneath it.
“Dill!” screamed Penelope. Tears sprang to her eyes and the view in front
of her vanished. Her calm was shattered and the spyglass along with it. She felt
the Great Moodler’s hand on her shoulder.
“He’s — he’s a Clockworker now,” Penelope stammered. “We’re too late.”
“It looks that way,” agreed the Great Moodler, “but looks can deceive.”
The Great Moodler pulled up a chair, and Penelope eased herself into it.
Her mind couldn’t comprehend the truth, but her stomach did. It began to
churn uncomfortably. Penelope wrapped her arms around her middle and
hugged herself to make the pain go away. “How can that be?” she said, more to
herself than to the Great Moodler. “Dill hates Chronos. He would never serve
him in any way. Never! Not in a million years.” Penelope looked up into the
Great Moodler’s sympathetic eyes. “Something horrible must have happened to
him,” she insisted. “I can’t just leave him there!”
“Nobody said anything about leaving him, dear,” said the Great Moodler.
“But Dill isn’t the only captive. The entire Realm of Possibility is held prisoner
by Chronos. Once that clock is restored, the spell will be restored, too. Right
now, the clock is still broken and we have a chance to help others believe in the
impossible. After the clock starts ticking, our chance is ruined. We must help
the Fancies.”
“But there’s no time,” pleaded Penelope.
“Oh, but there’s all the time in the world,” the Great Moodler
corrected her.
“Where?” Penelope practically screamed.
“Right here,” said the Great Moodler, opening her arms as wide as they
would go, “in the space of this very moment. Chronos would have you believe
you need to save time, but for what? The only time you can spend is the
time you have right now. And the time you have right now is all the time in
the world.” The Great Moodler dropped her hands to her sides. “Time isn’t pre-
cious, Penelope. You are. As long as you remember that, you’re sure to use it
wisely.” The Great Moodler sat down. “Now then, let’s start moodling. I have
some Fancies to feed and so do you.”
Penelope watched as Fancies floated in. They were exhausted from their
efforts and in obvious need of nourishment. She sat down and tried to moodle,
but images of Dill in those horrible blue coveralls kept coming to mind. Is his
internal clock broken? Does he even remember me anymore? Does he know what happened
to him or is he just a machine?
Penelope gave her head a quick shake. She had to stay calm. She couldn’t
afford an outbreak of worry warts. She pressed her lips together and tried
to focus. Dill needed her help. She was sure of it. But if she returned to the
tower, she risked everything. She might be captured and turned into a
Clockworker. If it could happen to Dill, it could happen to her! But the
Great Moodler said staying here and feeding the Fancies was crucial. Besides, it
was safe here. Even if they didn’t succeed in lifting the Shadow and the Realm
of Possibility was lost in doubt again, Penelope was back to her old mood-
ling self. It felt so amazing she didn’t want to stop — if only she had a little
more time!
Penelope looked over at the Great Moodler. She was stretched out with
her feet up as if she were sitting on a recliner. Her eyes were closed and bubbles
streamed out of her head. The Great Moodler had said Penelope would never
have more time. That people were what really mattered.
Penelope got to her feet. I can’t save time, she thought. But I can save Dill.
She walked right up to the edge of the shimmering mountain and stared
out over the Shadow. She remembered Dill telling her that people used to ride
the Fancies. All she had to do was capture one and then ride it to the tower. If
she moved quickly, maybe she could rescue Dill and be back before the Great
Moodler even noticed. That is, if she didn’t get caught. Penelope shuddered. She
couldn’t think about that right now.
A dull blue Fancy about the size of a cantaloupe emerged out of the dark-
ness, and Penelope waved it over. I’d better fatten you up, she thought, and took
out her notebook. She had already used up all the paper, so she turned to the
inside back cover. She only had time for one amazing moodle. Penelope stared
at the nothing all around her. For a brief moment she saw it reflected in her own
mind. She sat, basking in the nothing until — pop! — an idea inspired by Dill
came to mind. She started to write:
Mushrooms are a delectable fungus.
Some are small; others humongous.
They grow on the ground.
Can be found all around.
We’ll never starve with them among us.
As Penelope wrote, the Fancy gobbled up every word. When she was
done, the creature chittered in pleasure and did a series of quick somer-
saults. After each somersault, it landed in front of Penelope, twice the size it
had been before. When it was through bouncing around, it was almost as big
as a pony.
Perfect! thought Penelope and glanced quickly over her shoulder at the
Great Moodler. The little old lady was still busy moodling. Well, here goes . . .
Penelope approached the Fancy and, with a little leap, tried to mount it. She
grabbed ahold of where she imagined the neck might be, but all she managed to
do was kn
ock the Fancy off the mountain ledge. It let out a surprised screech,
but then fluttered back to where Penelope stood.
“Sorry,” whispered Penelope. She backed away to regroup. How can I climb
on top of a puff of air? It’s impossible. Penelope suppressed a giggle. Of course it was
impossible! Everything in this Realm was impossible.
She turned back to the Fancy and imagined a tiny trampoline near her
feet. She took two quick steps and a short hop. Sure enough, she landed on a
firm but springy surface and shot into the air. She reached for the Fancy and, in
her mind, its fluff turned to fur. When she grasped the creature, Penelope felt
something soft and thick under her fingers. She held on tight, swinging her legs
up and over before landing firmly on the Fancy’s back.
To her delight the Fancy lifted into the air and zoomed away, heading
straight for the Realm of Possibility. When they crossed over the Shadow,
Penelope felt a chill grab hold of her toes and move up her legs. She glanced
down and saw the darkness churning like a rough sea below. Doubt gripped her
mind. I’m riding on nothing but air! I’m going to drop like a rock!
And so that is exactly what she did.
The Fancy let out a hideous scream, its little feet paddling helplessly against the
rush of air. Penelope tried to scream, too, but her throat clamped shut. Her
stomach flattened against her ribs, and she clutched the Fancy, but there was
nothing there to hold. The fur just melted in her fingers. She gulped for air, and
as her lungs filled, she found her voice again.
“STOP!”
But the Fancy didn’t stop. If anything it fell faster, straight through the
Shadow. The force of the wind pushed Penelope’s cheeks up against her eyes and
lifted her mouth into a gruesome grin. Her thoughts ran in every direction, like
marbles dumped on the floor. She didn’t even try to gather them up as complete
panic set in. She began to shiver uncontrollably and her teeth would have
chattered if she wasn’t clenching them so tightly.