The Crafter

Chapter 1Kenny Flies to Kansas

Kenny strongly believed that everything would eventually be okay. This belief remained with him, even when his dad stopped living with them at the apartment in New York City, and he and his mom had to leave.

Doubt started to creep in, however, when he got detention at school, only because he’d stood up to Winston Turner, that bully. He’d thought it was no big deal, but when his mom heard, she had been so upset that she used his full name.

Hearing “Kenneth” felt as jarring as stepping on a toy in the dark. His mom only used “Kenneth” when she was upset. He was pretty sure his real name was Kenny; Kenny didn’t feel like a “Kenneth.” That sounded like some fancy-pants designer’s name, not a name for an eleven-year-old kid. He was Kenny. Always had been. So why had he suddenly become “Kenneth?” The moment his mom had used that name, worry welled up inside him, like something really important had been broken.

His almost-unwavering optimism had finally faltered when they headed to JFK Airport, destined for Wichita, the largest city close to their new home in Kansas. Kenny had been sure that his dad would be there to see them off. He imagined his father somewhere in the bustling crowd by the security checkpoint, just too far away for Kenny to spot. His dad would be clutching a vibrant bouquet for Mom and a shiny, new toy helicopter for him. But when they arrived, no Dad. Not at security, nowhere in sight.

Mom tried to hustle him through the terminal, fretting about missing their flight. But Kenny resisted. Surely they could wait a little longer. His dad had to be on his way. Why wouldn’t he come? Because Kenny didn’t get the best grades this year, or win any sports trophies? Did that make him unworthy of a goodbye?

At first, Mom had tried to be nice. Then she got irritated. Finally, she just looked sad. That was when Kenny realized: things weren’t going back to the way they were. After Dad left, Mom’s laughter had faded. She used to have the best kind of laugh—the kind that lit up her eyes and made everyone else smile. And then one day, Dad was just gone.

Mom seemed especially down lately, likely because of losing her job. She’d managed to find another one, but it was back in her hometown, in Kansas, where she and Kenny’s father had grown up. That was why they were moving.

“Everything will be all right, Kenny,” Mom had reassured him when she’d told him the news. But her tear-streaked face had betrayed her—she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

She’d urged him to pack lightly. One suitcase for her, one for him. His computer, video games, toy cars, and the highly-detailed train set—all left behind. Only their elderly cat, Whiskers, came along with them. Whiskers had been a part of the family even before Kenny was born. Mom had gotten him as a kitten, long before she’d met Dad.

On the flight to Wichita, Kenny thought about Whiskers, who was probably snoozing under Mom’s seat in his carrier. That cat could sleep like a champion, especially recently.

A flight attendant reminded everyone to fasten their seatbelts. As the plane taxied down the runway for takeoff, Kenny stared out the window, half-hoping to see his dad in hot pursuit, like in some action movie. But there was no sign of his father.

Life used to be straightforward, full of laughter and games. But things had shifted over the last little while, gotten a little quieter, a bit gloomier. Kenny wished he could rewind and relive those joyous moments with his mom. The memories of his dad joining in the fun only added to his sadness.

As the plane roared into the sky, leaving New York City’s iconic skyline behind, the heaviness of his memories lulled Kenny into a deep slumber.

When he woke, they were already on the ground in Wichita. Together with Whiskers, they disembarked and headed toward the modest airport terminal. They still had a long drive ahead to reach their new home in the small town of Stonewood, Kansas, a place filled with childhood memories for both of Kenny’s parents. Waiting at the airport to welcome them was Aunt Olivia—a small, lively woman who had been Mom’s best friend since their school days.

After pulling Mom into a warm hug, she turned to Kenny, peppering his cheeks with lipstick-stained kisses. “Oh, bless your heart,” she fussed, patting his head with a little too much gusto. Kenny fought the urge to roll his eyes; he was practically as tall as Aunt Olivia, after all. She didn’t need to treat him like a little kid.

As they headed for the exit, they met Aunt Olivia’s husband. The strapping man swiftly stashed their luggage in the trunk of his car before turning to extend a hand to Kenny. “I’m Gene,” he greeted Kenny with a broad grin, “but you can call me Uncle Gene.”

Being the courteous kid he was, Kenny replied, “Nice to meet you, Uncle Gene.”

Just then, from his carrier, Whiskers let out a gentle “meow,” which drew everyone’s attention.

“And who is this little fella?” Uncle Gene asked, bending down to take a closer look at the carrier.

“That’s Whiskers,” Kenny replied, pride in his voice.

Uncle Gene laughed. “Well, hello there, Mr. Whiskers.”

The drive from the airport started out as an ordinary one. Mom and Aunt Olivia were deep into one of their nostalgic conversations, Uncle Gene drove with quiet focus, and Whiskers, predictably, dozed off. But things took a turn when Uncle Gene rolled down the windows. As Kenny looked out, he was met with the breathtaking expanse of the prairie. The land spread out as far as the eye could see, merging with the sky at the distant horizon. The wind tousled his hair, puffed at his cheeks, and filled him with an exhilarating sense of infinite possibility.

As they neared Stonewood, the landscape began to bristle with houses. Uncle Gene slowed the car, and the forceful gusts of the prairie wind turned into a quieter, gentler breeze. Kenny looked around. The town they’d moved to was just a tiny speck on the map compared to the mammoth sprawl of New York City. “Is this really a town? Looks more like a village to me,” Kenny mused, surveying the older single-story houses lining the streets. “I bet they don’t even have a movie theater here!”

Uncle Gene navigated through the narrow streets, honking in a friendly manner at pedestrians and waving to a familiar person riding a bicycle. Soon enough, they pulled into the courtyard of a five-story apartment building. The structure seemed older, but had a warm, welcoming aura. From a gazebo nearby, two boys and a girl around Kenny’s age watched curiously as Uncle Gene unloaded the suitcases from the car.

“Your apartment is ready,” Aunt Olivia informed Mom, handing her a set of keys. “It’s been vacant for a while.”

“Would you like to come in?” Mom invited.

“We’d love to, dear, but we have to get back to work,” replied Aunt Olivia. “Gene will help bring in the suitcases, and then we have to head out. We just slipped away to welcome you.” Her gaze rested on Kenny as she added, “There’s a school nearby. Kenny won’t have to cross any busy roads to get there.”

With Whiskers’ carrier in hand, Kenny followed Mom and Uncle Gene upstairs to an apartment door labeled 209. Uncle Gene dropped the suitcases and turned to them. “Take care, all right? Especially you, Whiskers. We’ve got some feisty stray cats and some feral dogs in the neighborhood; best to keep him inside. And, Kenny—stay alert, buddy.”

With a friendly nod and a warm smile, Uncle Gene left. After a few attempts, Mom managed to unlock the door.

They stepped into a dim hallway lined with vintage wallpaper. An old-fashioned landline telephone sat on a small table, reminding Kenny of something out of a classic movie. Mom let Whiskers out of his carrier, and he immediately ran off to explore. “Go ahead, Whiskers. Everything’s new, isn’t it?” Mom said, her voice tinged with sadness.

Following Whiskers, Kenny got a quick look at a small but cozy kitchen and a compact bathroom. The worn wallpaper and outdated furniture were embarrassing. “How am I ever going to invite friends over? They’ll just make fun of this place.” He sighed, thinking of his buddies back home, and what they’d say if they saw him now.

As he worried whether he would even have his own space, he spotted two more doors off the living room, easing his concerns. But before he could explore further, something else caught his eye. Next to an old TV set was a state-of-the-art gaming console, one far superior to the one he’d had to leave behind in New York.

Rushing over, he touched the console in disbelief. Maybe this new place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter 2Kenny Meets Gavin

Kenny stared intently at the console, his eyes wide with surprise. It felt almost unreal, as if it would disappear the moment he looked away. “Where did this come from?” he exclaimed.

“Remember your Christmas letter to Santa last year?” Mom teased, a twinkle in her eye. “Guess he came through, just in time.”

“But why did Santa deliver it here? How’d he know?” Kenny asked, his brow furrowing in doubt. “Mom, did you have something to do with this?”

His mom chuckled, dismissing his question with a playful wave. “We’ll set it up later. For now, how about some fresh air? I noticed a few kids outside. It could be fun to introduce yourself. Once I’m done here, we can grab something to eat.”

A grumble from his stomach seconded that idea, and he responded, “Sounds good, Mom. Just remember to feed Whiskers, okay?”

Reaching into his backpack, his mom pulled out a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos and a Gatorade.

“These should keep you going for a while,” she replied with a smile. “And by tomorrow, we’ll be all set up with the internet.”

Kenny took the Doritos bag carefully, as if it were something precious. His mom gently nudged him toward the door and down the stairs. Soon, he found himself outside, enjoying the familiar taste of the nachos in this unfamiliar place. A thought crossed his mind: maybe Mom and Aunt Olivia had planned the console surprise to make their move easier on him.

Stepping into the twilight, Kenny hesitated by the front steps, letting his gaze drift toward the gazebo where three kids seemed engrossed in their own world.

One boy looked like a gingerbread cookie—short and round with a wild head of hair that reminded Kenny of a firework explosion. Next to him stood a lanky kid, his clothes hanging loosely on him, making him seem even taller. The girl was sitting down, but what struck Kenny most about her were her sharp green eyes, a vivid contrast to her coal-black hair—just like the crows back in New York.

Swallowing his nerves, Kenny approached them. “Hey there. I’m Kenny. What about you guys?”

The trio exchanged glances, the girl suppressing a giggle. Finally, the round-faced boy cleared his throat, putting on a pompous voice. “What’s your deal, Kenny-boy?”

“Just moved here,” Kenny said, trying to sound casual. “From New York. Mom got a job here.”

“New York City? Big deal.” The tall boy whistled, elbowing the girl. “Hear that, Aurora?”

She just raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to impress us, city boy?”

Kenny’s face heated. “Want some nachos?” he offered, trying to ease the tension.

She smirked. “Thanks, but no. And don’t think snacks will make us instant friends. Come on, Roberto.” With that, she stood, revealing her height—she was quite tall.

Roberto—the lanky boy—hesitated, casting a longing glance at Kenny’s Doritos before following Aurora. Once they were gone, the round-faced kid shamelessly dug into the bag, munching away.

“Don’t mind Aurora. She’s all right, just a bit dramatic,” he said between mouthfuls. “Roberto just goes along with her. He is her big bro, after all.”

Kenny watched him, a smile tugging at his lips. “So, who are you, Mr. Munch-a-lot?”

The boy chuckled. “Name’s Gavin. Pull up a chair, New Yorker.”

Kenny settled in next to Gavin, enjoying the comfort of newfound friendship.

As they munched on the chips and drank their Gatorade, Gavin started telling stories about the other people in town—himself, the lively girl named Aurora, lazy Roberto, and many others. He spoke in a hushed voice, as if he were sharing secret information. “You’ve got to be careful around here, you know. There are some older guys who don’t take kindly to newcomers, especially ones from big cities. Like Tyson.”

“Who?”

“Tyson. His real name’s Michael, but don’t ever call him that unless you fancy getting a black eye. He thinks he’s some kind of boxing champ just ‘cause he’s taken a few lessons.”

“So what do people call him around here?” Kenny probed. “Mikey?”

Gavin choked on his Gatorade, coughing hard. “No way! Not Mikey. That would be a disaster waiting to happen.” He paused, trying to catch his breath from the laughter. “Everyone calls him Tyson. It’s kinda his thing, you know, after that famous boxer. You’ll want to be on his good side. He’s repeated a grade, and trust me, he’s got a short fuse.”

Gavin then started dishing the gossip on their stern classroom teacher, Mrs. Stevenson. Kenny tried to listen, but his mind kept wandering back to Aurora and the captivating sparkle in her emerald eyes.

“… more Doritos?” Gavin’s voice pulled Kenny back from his daydream.

“Huh?”

“Got any extra Doritos at your place?” Gavin asked, rubbing his stomach. “Mom’s working late, and Grandma’s out of town. My kitchen’s a snack desert right now.”

“Probably,” Kenny replied. “Come on, let’s grab some.”

“Nah, you go. I’ll chill here,” Gavin responded, stretching lazily. “Too much movement, and I might starve.”

As Kenny bounded up the stairs in search of snacks, he nearly collided with his mom coming down.

“All done with the unpacking.” She beamed. “How about we hit the town for some dinner?”

“Did Whiskers get his dinner too?”

“Of course,” she replied, a twinkle in her eye. “That was the first thing I did.”

“Just grabbing some Doritos for Gavin,” Kenny explained.

When Mom found out who Gavin was, and why he was hanging around and waiting for nachos, she shook her head. “No Doritos for dinner. Let’s invite Gavin along. It’ll be a good chance to get to know him, and he can fill us in on the school. Who knows, you two might end up as classmates.”

Just like that, it was decided. Gavin suddenly perked up on hearing the invitation and was all in for dinner.

They found a diner just around the corner, one with that cozy, homey vibe to it, like the apartment had. While Kenny’s mom chose a crisp garden salad, both boys got juicy burgers with sides of crispy fries.

As they chatted, Kenny learned that Gavin lived with just his mom and grandma. As for his dad, however, Gavin didn’t have much to say.

“He’s a soldier,” Gavin shared, stabbing a fry with his fork. “Last I heard, he was in Afghanistan. It’s kinda risky, you know?”

“We get it,” said Mom, her voice gentle, and eyes softening. She gave Gavin’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You dig in now.”

Night had fallen for real by the time they got home. After dinner, they’d swung by the grocery store for some essentials. Gavin made his way back to his home with a loaded backpack, saying that he should get back before his mom got worried—he didn’t even have a working phone to give her a heads-up. “I better head back before my mom starts freaking out,” he said anxiously, holding up his old flip phone. “This thing’s been acting up lately.”

Kenny couldn’t quite pinpoint when he’d drifted off to sleep. Whether it was cozily tucked into his bed or halfway through changing his clothes, he couldn’t tell.

In his dream, he was trekking through an eerie forest, Whiskers perched on his shoulder, and a gleaming sword in his hand. His destination was a mystery, but a creeping dread shadowed his steps.

Morning light greeted him when he opened his eyes.

Chapter 3Nothing Makes Sense

Kenny rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. As he was stretching, his mom poked her head through the bedroom door. “Good morning, sunshine,” she greeted him with a soft smile. “I’m enrolling you in the local school today, and once that’s done, I’m heading to my new job.”

Taking a deep breath, Kenny made his way to the bathroom. I’ve got to grow up quick, he thought, splashing water on his face and looking hard at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I need to help out. It’ll be tough for Mom on her own.

Mom was in a rush, and she kissed Kenny on the forehead as he exited the bathroom. “There’s breakfast on the table, and your lunch is in the fridge. No school today, so you’ve got the day to yourself. Oh! The technician came by early this morning while you were asleep, so we’re all set up with the internet now. Go ahead and play some games, but remember not to be on the console for too long. And don’t forget your reading! I’ll be back late.”

She showed him how to work the landline and scribbled her new work number on a sticky note, placing it on the table next to the phone. And then she was out the door.

It was just Kenny and Whiskers now. Kenny munched on his sandwich, and Whiskers settled down beside him. But the moment Kenny was done and stepped into the living room, Whiskers nuzzled his leg and led the way to the TV console, looking regal with his tail held high. Then, with a swift leap, he landed next to the TV and let out a playful meow.

“Game time, huh?” Kenny chuckled. “All right, you win.”

It was their thing: whenever Kenny gamed, Whiskers was right there, watching intently, his silent presence always making Kenny a better player. Game controller in hand, Kenny switched on the TV. A distinctive logo illuminated the screen—a hammer and hatchet, crossed against a backdrop of leafy branches. There were no words, just the emblem.

The screen flashed with only one option:

“What’s going on?” Kenny mused aloud. “Why’s it on already? Could Aunt Olivia have played it already? Or maybe even Uncle Gene?” The thought of straight-laced Uncle Gene goofing off with a video game made Kenny snicker. But, no, it had probably been Mom, checking things out. Or… maybe Whiskers had a secret gamer life. Kenny remembered once asking Mom why Whiskers didn’t go to school like him. According to her, cats had all the smarts they needed without hitting the books.

He attempted to quit the game, hoping to see what other treasures the console held. But no dice; the exit button just wasn’t working. “What’s the deal?” Kenny sighed. “Did Santa—or, you know, Mom—bring me a dud system?”

Whiskers gave a pointed meow, almost as if to say, “Get on with it! It was just getting good when I paused!”

Kenny trusted that feline intuition, so he relented.

“Okay, game on!” He pressed ‘Start.’

For a split second, everything went pitch black. When the lights came back on in the apartment, the controller was gone, the TV had disappeared, and Whiskers was nowhere in sight. Floating letters shimmered before him:

Kenny’s heart raced. He shot up from his seat, and the letters dispersed like fog. This couldn’t be real, right? A wild look around confirmed that there was no TV, and worse, no Whiskers. What if he’d darted out an open window?

Kenny squinted out the window, expecting to see the sunlit gazebo and his familiar backyard. Instead, an eerie darkness stretched out as far as the eye could see. It felt like nighttime out there, yet the inside of the house was still awash with daylight.

“Hmm, I bet this is some kind of trick,” Kenny pondered, furrowing his brow. “Maybe someone painted the windows black as a joke.” But a nagging thought made him hesitate. Who could reach the second-floor window with paint? And shouldn’t the kids he’d met— Gavin, Aurora, and Roberto—be in school right now? Who would want to play such a strange joke?

“No, something’s fishy here,” he muttered with a wave of unease. “Is it…the end of the world? Did space invaders decide to throw Earth into eternal night?” He shook the silly thoughts out of his head. Monsters outside his window? Ridiculous!

But as the thought settled, a thrill of fear raced up his spine. What if there was something lurking out there?

He took a startled step back, nearly tripping over Whiskers, who meowed a timely warning. Kenny glanced at him, but the feline, ever the picture of composure, hopped onto the windowsill, licking his paw nonchalantly. If you ignored the odd view out there, everything inside was just as it should be.

Or was it? Kenny darted to the hallway, peeked into his mom’s bedroom, then his own. All looked exactly as it should. The kitchen held no surprises either; even the tiny crumbs from this morning’s sandwich were still scattered on the counter. “Should probably clean those up,” Kenny mused. “End of the world or not, no excuse to be messy.” But a pang of concern struck him. Where was his mother in all this?

His eyes landed on the antique red phone in the hallway, with its seriously old-fashioned rotary dial. He approached, lifting the receiver to his ear, but there was only silence. Weren’t there supposed to be dial tones? He remembered the faint buzz from just this morning when Mom was teaching him how to dial her office.

Maybe the answers lay outside. He could slip out and get a glimpse of what was happening, then come right back in. Right?

Hesitating at the front door, Kenny took a deep breath. It wasn’t fear holding him back, more his habit of thinking before diving headfirst into anything. If what he’d glimpsed through the window was real, had his home been whisked away to some alien planet? Or maybe he’d stumbled into a fairy tale, just like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Could the sun really just…vanish?

Shaking off the absurdity, Kenny cautiously opened the door, expecting to step onto the landing of the second floor. But instead, he was met with a suffocating darkness. Mustering his courage, he slowly extended his hand, anticipating the usual hallway wall or railing. Instead, a jarring chill bit his fingertips, like touching freezing marble.

He pulled his hand back immediately, noticing with alarm that his fingertips had turned a sooty black. An attempt to wipe the smudge off on his T-shirt was useless. Stranger still, he couldn’t feel anything at all from the darkened tips. The abyssal dark beyond the door seemed to ripple, as if reacting to his touch.

A rush of instinct told him to look for the first-aid kit, but this wasn’t a simple scrape. What could he possibly do? Soak his fingertips in antiseptic?

He hastily closed and locked the door, dread settling into him. The omnipresent darkness outside wasn’t just an absence of light; it had felt alive, almost sentient. A chilling question washed fear over him: was there no way back? Heart pounding, Kenny felt trapped. He was shielded within the walls of his new home, but a relentless, encroaching unknown surrounded him. The text he’d imagined seeing earlier now took on a haunting significance.

The instant Kenny’s thoughts crystallized, a change stirred the room. The air seemed to congeal before him, shaping into shimmering letters:

Whiskers let out a concerned “Meow-merow!” and nuzzled Kenny’s ankle.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Whiskers,” Kenny replied, eyeing the hovering message. “This is just nuts!”

Chapter 4The Game Begins

What would any other kid in Kenny’s shoes do? Probably start playing right away. That would be the natural reaction—what else were games for?

But Kenny didn’t rush. He had never heard of such realistic video games before. It would make sense if he’d put on a virtual reality headset, but he didn’t remember doing that, and it didn’t feel like he was wearing one.

To confirm, he felt his head. No headset! His fingertips, still as black as ever, felt nothing at all. Kenny tried not to dwell on that weird fact, but found it difficult to shake off the thought. What was supposed to be a fun game was turning out to be anything but fun. And something about it was dangerous, too.

“What does ‘try to stay alive’ mean?” He exclaimed loudly, looking at Whiskers. “What kind of game is this? What are the rules?”

The cat thoughtfully twitched his whiskers, which could mean either grumbling in agreement or reproaching him for cowardice, then silently walked back through the foyer into the living room again, disappearing behind the door. He’d probably jumped onto the couch and started snoozing. Traitor.

What should Kenny do? He definitely wasn’t going to play the game until he understood how to finish it. And speaking of that—how was the game even played? Kenny scratched the back of his head. He had noticed a while back that scratching his head there somehow made thinking easier. But it didn’t help now. In this game—or whatever it was—there were no joysticks, no gamepads, and it was utterly unclear how the controls worked. Heck, he didn’t even know what to do to start the level!

“Stop!” he hollered, hoping that a voice command would work, if nothing else. “Quit! Exit!”

Seeing the air before him thicken again, Kenny felt a surge of relief and shouted, “Exit! Exit! Exit!”

The text that appeared in the air quickly dashed his hopes.

“Well, that’s something,” he muttered. “At least now I know how to leave. I just need to figure out where to find this ‘Save Point’.”

He scoured the apartment, ransacking all the closets and spilling their contents onto the floor, examining shelves, and looking under the bed and sofa, but he found nothing resembling a Save Point at all. After scratching his head again, an idea came to him. This time, he commanded, “Create Save Point!”

Nothing happened, other than a hint that popped up:

That threw him for a loop. But then, after thinking about it for a moment, Kenny remembered that in some video games, you could only save your progress at certain spots on the map. It seemed his home didn’t count.

In that case, there was nothing left to do but… Wait! The text had said the “Game World has been created.” That meant…

Kenny rushed to the front door and cracked it open. The darkness had disappeared; it was light outside. There was now a forest around his house instead of the second floor landing of the apartment building, and the forest was somehow different than any he’d seen before.

It was probably dangerous to venture out unarmed. Closing the door again, Kenny went to the kitchen, found his mom’s kitchen knife, grabbed a frying pan with his other hand, and peered into the living room.

“Whiskers!” he shouted. “Let’s go for a walk!”

“Meow-meow,” the cat sleepily mewed, which meant, “I don’t want to.”

“As you wish.” Kenny shrugged and headed for the front door. As he swung it open, he noticed it had changed, too. The plain apartment door now bore a striking resemblance to a chessboard, adorned with alternating squares of light and dark brown, a detail he only noticed when he was up close.

Kenny pushed the door, but it didn’t fully open. The forest was closer than he’d thought, and when he opened the door it bumped into a thick tree trunk. Its bark seemed to be tiled with brown squares too, alternating light and dark like the door. It wasn’t a real tree, in other words, but some kind of strange, fake thing.

The other trees in the forest looked normal from a distance, except for the purple leaves and trunks, twisted by the wind into unimaginable angles. One even resembled a spring. Kenny held onto the door and looked around.

There were the same strange trees everywhere, large and small. If this was an earthly forest, it was certainly not one in the States. Kenny had never heard of trees with purple leaves and angular trunks like those.

The ground beneath his sneakers was weird as well, like it was a texture plucked straight out of an ancient computer game. There weren’t any blades of grass, no fallen branches, or piles of last year’s leaves. The ground was as smooth as a freshly ironed shirt, but covered in squares. These tiles weren’t a woody brown like the tree or the door, they were a murky green. The ground looked just like the floor at the doctor’s office back home in New York where Mom took Kenny when he had a sore throat. Those memories weren’t good ones. The clinic always seemed to have a cranky lady doctor who’d frown and peer into his mouth, prodding his tongue with a wickedly cold wooden stick. Yikes!

Apart from the weird trees and flat ground there was some kind of greenery as well, but it was sprouting up in an unnaturally straight line, like rows of corn on the farms they’d passed yesterday. The evenly-spaced stalks came up to Kenny’s knees, and each one was topped with a neat triangular leaf.

Suddenly, something fuzzy brushed against his leg. Kenny jumped and looked down—it was Whiskers.

“Aw, geez, Whiskers, you nearly scared the pants off me, you furry critter!” Kenny scolded, relief flooding him. “I thought you wanted to nap?”

The cat sashayed past him, tail sticking up like a flagpole, looking as dignified as a king. He took a moment to sniff the air, then sat and let out a very serious, “Meow-meow-meow, meow? Meow-meow?”

The thing was, Kenny heard nothing but meows, but they somehow made sense. He shook his head. Was he going crazy? Cats couldn’t talk. Yet, he could swear that Whiskers had just said, “We’ve sure landed ourselves in a pickle, haven’t we, young master? Where in the world are we?”

“I’m not sure, Whiskers,” Kenny replied, just to humor him.

“Meow-meow-meow, meow?” came the immediate reply. And again, it was as if Kenny knew that Whiskers was saying, “Shall we take a look around, then?”

Nodding, Kenny closed the door behind him. Text suddenly popped up in front of him:

His knife and frying pan vanished from his hands, and the first set of text was replaced with an explanation:

The text disappeared. But wait, what about the dangers the first text had mentioned? Could it be talking about wild animals? No, it had to be something way creepier than that. This was a game world. Who knew what was lurking in the darkness? It could be scary monsters, spooky skeletons, or even extraterrestrial beings from outer space!

Regardless of the lurking dangers, it made no sense to hole up at home. There was no way out of the game there, and he’d end up stuck ‘til kingdom come. Or worse, ‘til he ran out of snacks!

Kenny imagined his mom returning to find him gone. A pang of fear gripped his heart. But even more important than that, he knew he couldn’t let her find out what he’d done. If she did, something terrible would happen. She’d get so worried about him, she might need saving herself. He had to return to the real world before she got back from work… if their home even still existed there.

To quit the game, he had to play it. But to do that, he needed to figure out where he was, and what he was supposed to do.

Kenny clenched his fists and walked along the apartment wall. Weirdly enough, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor of a five-story building, only their apartment had ended up in the forest. From the outside, it now looked like a small, square bungalow with a slanted roof. The walls were made of white bricks, each one looking perfectly even, as if it had been sanded down. Kenny counted just three windows—one on each side, except for the side where the door was.

He and Whiskers circled the bungalow and returned to the door. A description popped up above it when they got back:

“Should we move on?” Whiskers mewed.

The cat was speaking a language Kenny could understand… or, was he? No, he was still meowing as he’d always done before, but Kenny had somehow learned to understand it. Doubt popped up in his mind for a moment—was this actually his cat? The real Whiskers would have preferred to nap on the sofa instead of suggesting they keep going. Could it be that his Whiskers had stayed in the real world, while the game created some kind of duplicate here? A magical Whiskers who could scare off all the wolves and wasn’t afraid to swim! That would be amazing!

Kenny shook his head. No, he wouldn’t doubt the cat. Right now, Whiskers was his only friend. Besides, Whiskers was a part of the family. They’d known each other since birth; he knew every spot on Whiskers, even the one on his chin. He could even tell you exactly how many stripes were on his tail.

“No,” Kenny said, “first we need to see what’s nearby. I don’t like this forest. It’s kind of gloomy.”

“Meow,” Whiskers agreed.

Looking up, Kenny tried to figure out the color of the sky in the game world and where the ghostly, shimmering blue light was coming from. But tree branches intertwined overhead, so high up that the tops were invisible. It was as if the canopy formed a forest roof through which he couldn’t see anything.

With every step, something crackled underfoot, as if he were trudging through frostbitten snow, but there was nothing under his feet to crack. Apparently, that was the game’s sound effect for his steps. No birds sang, no wolves howled, no crickets chirped. Only his steps mde noise—crack-crack, crack-crack. And then, off to the side…

Crunch!

Kenny spun around mid-jump and let out a relieved laugh. When Whiskers walked, he also made a crunching sound, and he was very unhappy about it.

“What’s this nonsense?” he mewed so pitifully that Kenny could have entered him into a cat show and won a gold medal out of sympathy.

They circled the house twice, straying further each time, but they didn’t find anything interesting.

Although… Kenny squatted down and spotted a stick, about a yard and a half long, just a step away. It wasn’t a branch, or the trunk of a young tree, but something not natural—like someone had ripped off a table leg and thrown it there for him to find.

Kenny picked it up, and a description appeared over the stick:

Chapter 5Kenny Becomes a Lumberjack

When Kenny played games on his smartphone, they usually gave him lots of tips. For instance, if he found a stick like this, the instructions would tell him how to use it and how to make it better. They might even suggest tying a stone to the stick to make a more powerful club. And then the power rating of the club might show him how many hits he needed to make to defeat a monster.

But here… Here, nothing was clear. He just knew that since he had the stick, it meant he was going to have to fight. The stick’s power rating had to be used on someone, right?

Kenny swung his stick around, went back to his tiny house, and smacked the tree that was blocking his door.

That was interesting. It seemed he could chop down a tree… With a stick. Very realistic! With a snort, Kenny struck the tree again to see if his guess was right.

He hit the tree fifty times in total. Each hit did two points of Damage. With the last blow, the tree vanished. Kenny rubbed his eyes. What had just happened? One moment the tree was there, and then—poof!—it was gone.

Whiskers was just as surprised. He meowed in disbelief.

He’d chopped down a whole tree and got a Log. Just one. What was he supposed to do with it? And where had it gone? As soon as he thought about it, a clear chest appeared before his eyes. An explanation hovered over it:

Kenny reached for the lid, but the chest opened itself. A single, tiny replica of the Log lay inside.

Kenny picked up the Log and turned it over in his hands. Then he groaned in disappointment. The Log was much smaller than the tree he had cut down. It was also very light. In real life, a log this size would be too heavy for him to carry.

Then something weird happened. He felt as if a shower of light was washing over him. When he looked at his hands, Kenny saw they were glowing.

A second later, the light faded. A trumpet sounded, and a message popped up:

Now this is interesting! thought Kenny. It seemed he was actually inside a game, likely a role-playing one. That was the kind of game that had experience points, levels, and skills.

The message stayed on the screen, letting him read every line.

Kenny read the message twice. He needed nine more Experience Points to get to level up, but where could he learn nine more skills? What else could he do besides chopping trees?

Looking around the forest, he spotted a lone stalk a couple of meters away, one of the plants with a triangular leaf on top. That could be another opportunity to gain a skill. Jumping forward, Kenny grabbed it and pulled, hoping that by uprooting the plant, he might acquire another skill…

…but he was disappointed.

“Thanks!” Kenny shouted at the sky, where he suspected invisible admins must be monitoring his game. “Where am I going to find an Herbalist’s Knife? Take your stalk and get lost!” He spat on the ground.

Whiskers stopped grooming himself and meowed, and Kenny understood him perfectly: “It’s not polite to spit.”

“But how can I not spit when nothing makes sense?” Kenny growled, kicking the trunk of a short tree. “What am I supposed to do? Look for an Herbalist’s Knife in the house? Or should I make it myself?”

“The main thing is to stay alive, not to die,” Whiskers replied. “Otherwise, the game ends. What’s so hard to understand?”

“What if I don’t want to stay alive?” Kenny asked. “Ugh, I didn’t mean that. I mean, what if I don’t want to play this game? I want to go home!”

“Aren’t we near home?” Whiskers seemed surprised, pointing a paw toward the Shelter. “We can return, and we’ll be at home.”

“At home,” Kenny agreed, then yelled, “But that home is not at our house, it’s somewhere weird and unknown! And I don’t even want to know where this place is!”

“So what do you want? You wanted to play a game, didn’t you?” Whiskers continued to question him.

“Yes!” Kenny stomped angrily. “At home, on the couch, on the console!”

“Well, you’re almost at home now. Let’s go back. Sit on the couch and play sitting down, if you can’t do it otherwise.”

“I don’t want to play like this! Why are you messing with me, Whiskers?”

“‘Don’t want to’—how do you know that when you yourself don’t know what you want?” Whiskers meowed, sounding offended, and began to lick his paw—the right one, his favorite. “You just keep arguing with yourself, I’m going to lie down at home.” He turned his back to Kenny with his tail held high.

“So go, then!” Kenny shouted. “All you want to do is laze around! Mom was right when she said you’re a useless animal!”

Whiskers seemed not to hear. He leapt toward the Shelter and only his tail flickered, the one Kenny knew all the stripes on. And Kenny was left alone. Anger ate at him; he paced back and forth, and kicked a flat stone the size of his palm that happened to be lying in his way. A text block appeared above it, but Kenny didn’t get the chance to read it before it vanished. Text only appeared above useful things, which meant he had to pick up the stone and examine it.

It hadn’t flown far. As soon as he touched it, the text returned:

Kenny eyed the stone thoughtfully. It wasn’t just a simple stone; in his hands, it could transform into a useful tool. With a quick twist, he slid it into his Inventory, opting to clutch the stick closely in his hand instead. This forest was unpredictable, and he didn’t want to be caught off guard.

The forest, which had initially felt ominous and unwelcoming, now beckoned him to explore its depths. It reminded Kenny of those long summer days when he’d gone mushroom hunting with his dad in the Catskills. The excitement of spotting one mushroom would fuel the hunt for more, even when their basket overflowed.

Using the stick he carried, Kenny began carving arrows into the soft forest floor. These markings would serve as his breadcrumb trail, guiding him back to the house and ensuring he wouldn’t lose his way. Initially, every rustle sent shivers down his spine, making him stop and scan his surroundings for potential threats. But as time wore on, his nervousness waned. By the time he spotted the distinctive cap of a mushroom ahead, any remnants of fear had vanished. The thrill of discovery had taken over, just like those long summer days.

The mushroom looked pretty normal, with its stout white stem and a light yellow, velvety cap. Kenny had found similar ones with his mom and dad in Central Park.

Kenny stared at the mushroom for a few seconds. How did it energize? Would it cheer him on? Pat him on the back? Nod sympathetically? After waiting a little to see what would happen, he smacked his forehead—it was a mushroom! He’d need to eat it to get the effect. But he wouldn’t be able to pick it. The game would probably ask for an Herbalist’s Knife again…

In the end, while he was worrying, he reached for the Energizing Mushroom anyway, grabbed it, and pulled it toward him. The little mushroom came up easily.

“Aha!” Kenny realized. “Apparently, not all plants need an Herbalist’s Knife!” Rightly so, because a mushroom wasn’t a plant. They had started biology in science last year and Kenny had learned from the teacher that mushrooms had characteristics of both plants and animals. And if a mushroom went bad, it smelled like a carcass, not like a rotten tomato. He’d been super surprised to learn that at the time, and now he was happy that he’d remembered.

Kenny wondered if he should eat the mushroom to move faster. He was very interested in finding out what would happen. Fast-forwarding videos always made the people in them rush around, with their voices all chirpy; he pictured himself doing that and laughed.

No, better to save the little mushroom. He might need to run away from someone. Or chase someone.

The Energizing Mushroom went into his Inventory. And a minute later, Kenny stepped into a sunlit glade. In the middle of it was a rotten stump that looked like a forest sprite, and above it was a sign:

Not believing his luck, Kenny thought about how to activate it. Maybe he needed to touch the stump? He did just that and a text appeared in front of him:

He was so happy that he nearly hugged the rotten stump, and he shouted, “Yes! Create!”

Excited about the possibility of soon returning to the real world, Kenny shouted the remaining time along with the countdown: “Seventeen! Sixteen!”

When the countdown reached “fifteen,” the stump shook as if it had come to life, and bits of rot started flying off.

“What in the world?” Kenny backed away, brandishing his stick in front of him.

A menacing screech echoed from beneath the stump. The stump toppled over, revealing a massive bug-like head with horrific jaws that looked like two curved, serrated knives. The monster’s head resembled a hybrid of a colossal cockroach and a porcupine.

Above that ugly head, a title appeared:

Kenny didn’t continue reading; the word “predatory” was enough. He ran as fast as he could. He glanced over his shoulder mid-run, tripped over a branch, and noticed from the corner of his eye that the Save Point activation timer had dropped to eleven seconds. Could he last those few seconds against the monster?

Turning around, Kenny saw the Predatory Roachyx, propped up on dirt-covered, spiky legs, slowly emerging from underground. It was definitely larger than a motorcycle, maybe even a car. It could easily bite off his head! And then, Kenny would die. But would it be a game death, which would send him back to his world, or a real one? He didn’t want to test that out.

Kenny jumped to his feet and dashed toward the Shelter, sure that the giant roach would tear him apart faster than the Save Point could form.