Basement Dwellers of the Furred Kind

Taylor stood stiff as board against her bedroom door, stationed beside the suspiciously-lifeless floor-bound heater and glaring at her mountain of scattered unopened boxes as if they’d personally wronged her. This unprecedented move had felt like a collective punishment—Dad had accepted that new managerial position out of state that he “absolutely could not refuse” which he had apparently been offered due to his “leadership” and “natural charisma”. Since he couldn’t resist the bloated wallet and shiny supervisory badge dangling from their proverbial keychain, Taylor had no choice but to put her life on hold and delegate her possessions into temporary cardboard prisons until she was ready to let them come up for air.

But chances of Taylor Rockwell accepting defeat were astronomical.

Not that the universe didn’t delight in experimenting with just how much heartache and sacrifice she could take before tears stained her shattered soul in spite of her defiance. She definitely had a great circle of friends back at Sierra Pines Middle School, each bound by matching personalized wristbands and the shared goal of collecting the pearl from the world that was their oyster. She hadn’t realized their invisible ties were tethered by a cheap pearl necklace, torn asunder by that pesky ethereal presence that didn’t so much as bat an eye as the natural jewels scattered under the couches and into the vents of life.

So now here she was, drifting into the uncharted, turbulent waters of Maplewood, Oregon, attempting to replant the sprout that had been uprooted, though accompanied by unconventional yet loyal shipmates. Her marshmallow-tinted American shorthair Ashley consistently trailed beside her like a furry shadow, and her coveted collection of video games, movies, and anime provided an everlasting means of escape—digital bridges to realms beyond held aloft by colorful characters and a grand sense of adventure within intricately-woven worlds harboring secrets waiting to be discovered.

But that warmth—artificial or otherwise—could not mask that eerie, omnipresent chill emanating from her family’s enigmatic new abode.

Taylor couldn’t exactly pinpoint the source, but she had carried the heavy weight of tension ever since they’d moved into this place; a tickle in the back of her skull that never truly left, kind of like that classroom pest who would conveniently sit behind you and insist he hadn’t been tugging at your ponytail. For one, her upstairs bedroom remained the coldest space in the house despite the floor vents having been “inspected” before the Rockwell family claimed the living arrangement as their own. And perhaps the most dubious warning lay in the incongruous, bone-chilling air encompassing the perimeter like a suffocating embrace from your estranged relative that made your skin crawl. It was no secret that this house had seen several families come and go in its thirty years. What did the previous owners leave behind? Has this been home to some shady business practices? Or maybe it had been unknowingly built on ancient burial grounds? Taylor had entertained the suspicions with her parents, but they’d deflect her concerns with claims that she was simply imagining things.

But Ashley knew. She always knew. They say people look like their pets, but as far as Taylor was concerned, she swore the two of them could think alike. If it wasn’t the cat’s bristled fur raising alarm bells, tonight a primal growling bubbled deep within her throat, and she almost never grew defensive.

“What is it, Ashley? You hear something?”

Ashley merely chirped in response, subsequently skittering down the stairs as a silent invitation to join in her investigation.

Taylor sighed, grabbing her phone in the event of necessary documented proof or to call for backup.

“Alright. Guess we’re doing this.”

Garbed in a coat themed after her favorite medieval RPG heroine (because of course it was), Taylor marched downward ever closer toward the residence’s immortal chill, her furry bodyguard leading the way. The lower level’s instant contrast in temperature prompted a fresh wave of determination to unravel the house’s riddle of waging war with unnatural elements.

Downstairs, Taylor’s mother manned the helm at the kitchen sink, dutifully (albeit reluctantly) tending to the pile of dishes that never seemed to dwindle. Her daughter’s hastily wordless approach to the back door tore her gaze from the infinite workload.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

Taylor froze, scrambling for a plausible explanation. It’s not like Mom was going to play along with her detective work, anyway.

“Uh… I was just gonna take Ashley out for a little walk? She’s been begging me for it all day. Haven’t you, Ashley?”

Ashley simply tilted her head, narrowing her eyes and offering a soft mrrrp as if to say “You’re the crazy one here”.

Mom raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further, already more than acquainted with Taylor’s antics.

“Well, okay… Just don’t stay out too late. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Taylor internally winced at that last comment. “Right. We’ll be back in a few.”

With the parental checkpoint out of the way, Taylor carefully pried open the back door, her heart momentarily stopping as Ashley immediately bolted and Mother Nature (or whatever the entity called itself) enveloped them both in a biting chill. Normally Ashley patrolled the personal Rockwell garden with the safety of a human-wielded harness, but tonight the household’s own weather forecast carefully carved out a path for her, emitting a signal at a frequency only she could hear.

The two took a few hesitant steps as Ashley flinched every so often with her tail held high and curled at the tip like a fluffy compass, and Taylor casted cautious glances around the yard for potential threats and trespassers lurking in the evening shadows. The gap between the epicenter of the frosty wind neared its end as they rounded the corner and approached one of the wooden side gates, pausing with bated breath at the additional accessory to the house’s siding sitting adjacent to the fence.

There, poised right in the middle of Mom’s freshly-planted bed of sunflowers, sat…

…a pair of cellar doors.

Now it was Taylor’s turn to furrow her brows.

“What in the— Has this always been here?” she asked no one in particular. “I don’t remember a basement being mentioned in the listing.”

Ashley seemed to agree, wrinkling her nose at some unseen aromatic energy and squinting at the wood paneling’s iridescent glow that seemed to come from nowhere. She locked eyes with Taylor and let out an inquisitive squeak, and in that moment, Taylor had never been more at ease with her feline crew mate, their steady ship riding on the same wavelength as the allure of discovery propelled their sails, driving them to the same conclusion:

We’ve come this far.

Taylor never fancied herself a subscriber of leaps of faith, but at this point, what did she have to lose? The enigmatic siren’s call of a forgotten underground storage system was too hypnotic to resist, and the blank, pathetic emptiness of turning back wasn’t the colored flag she envisioned herself waving. With Ashley by her side—paw in hand—they would take the plunge into a mountain of cushiony clouds and unearth a grand mystery, or maybe a field of prickly cacti would break their fall and Taylor would become the unwitting queen of a family of raccoons.

Either way, it would make for a great story to tell.

“Alright,” she conceded, steeling herself with an invigorating breath, “here goes nothing.”

With a shaky yet firm grasp on the iron door handle, Taylor gently lifted the wooden barriers, grimacing as they protested the movement with a creaky groan. Ashley raced her down the steps as she always did with a boldness and built-in night vision that Taylor envied. Every calculated footstep felt akin to lowering oneself into the lion’s den or purposely provoking the sleeping bear for mere foolhardy entertainment. The moment she miraculously reached the ground floor, a little squeak not belonging to Ashley made itself known, followed by the faint scurrying of tiny footsteps.

Yup. Definitely raccoons.

“Hello?” she offered meekly. “Is anyone down here?”

No response.

Except for the gentle trickle of flowing water and a happy little chirp intermittently adding to the otherwise bleak ambiance.

Right, so we’ve got a leaking water tank and a family of birds that somehow built a nest in a basement. Perfect.

Ashley, meanwhile, was investigating in the darkness what vaguely resembled a flowerpot, emanating minuscule sprightly orbs that circled petals so vivacious that even the cat couldn’t resist. A muffled snore from within prompted her to inspect further, and the gentle caress of her angelic breath must have rubbed somebody the wrong way, because Taylor nearly had a heart attack when a small but mighty voice suddenly bellowed—

“HEY! I’M SLEEPING HERE!”

“WHAT THE—?!”

The sheer force of surprise threw Taylor off balance, and the added weight of a startled Ashley leaping onto her shoulder sent her tumbling backwards into a nearby pole, her elbow bumping a previously unseen light switch. Before they could react, a bright luminescence flooded the space, igniting their retinas with a flaming intensity.

“WHOA!” Taylor screamed, shielding her eyes as Ashley echoed the motion in solidarity.

As their vision gradually adjusted, they dared a peek through their hands (or paw, in Ashley’s case), and all breaths abruptly ceased in reverence of the majestic scene before them. All of life seemed to stir at the ethereal illumination as if a park employee had activated the mechanisms and animatronics of a theme park ride, only there was nothing robotic about the actors and props. Nearby, the trickling stream revealed itself to be a bubbling riverbank housing several vivacious breaching rainbow trout, earning themselves a round of encouraging chirps from a quartet of cardinals that had apparently provided the previous tweeting orchestra. A few feet away from where the pair stood, a blooming, floral arch separated the “foyer” of the land from the main event, where a sprawling town square built upon a foundation of golden brick roads boasted a myriad of colorful structures and decor, such as the gleaming, marble layered fountain commandeered by the graceful dolphin positioned at the peak, spouting a misty stream from its cylinder muzzle with an expression that might’ve been playful. Behind it, a multi-story establishment demanded attention and respect in its marble pillars, a steep staircase that would probably be used in a boxer’s training montage, and a paw print-adorned flag billowing atop a shimmering spire, brandishing text waving too rapidly for Taylor to read.

As they took it all in, their attention diverted at the sound of an unabashedly cartoonish voice.

“Whooooo turned on the lights?”

From up above in a towering maple tree, perched on a sturdy branch cloaked in a cosmic purple robe, stood a golden brown barn owl, blinking blearily as if his nap had just been disturbed. Spreading his wings wide, he swooped down to formally greet Taylor at eye level, the audible whoosh from his feathery appendages and his human stature making Taylor take an instinctive step back.

“T-Talking owl…” she breathed, eyes blown wide as she pointed a trembling finger at him. “What is happening?”

The owl mimicked the hands of a clock as he swiveled his head 180 degrees, a motion that would have run Taylor’s blood cold if he hadn’t been a nocturnal avian. “Of course I can talk. We all possess the power of speech here, Taylor.”

Taylor nearly choked on her own saliva. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Do you not recognize the valiant Guardian of the Skies before you?” he pleaded, turning his head right side up and striking a pose. “It’s me—Ryder.”

Taylor’s entire train of thought completely blue-screened. The Ryder? Her favorite adorable, courageous yet slightly blundering barn owl from Tokyo Guardians, one of the greatest anime of all time, centered on a Heaven-sent feathered warrior assisting a team of crime-fighting teens? That Ryder?

Either this was a dream, or the traumatic combination of moving and her house’s otherworldly chill had scrambled her mind.

“Ryder?” she echoed. “What are you doing here? What is all this? How do you even exist?”

“One question at a time, my friend,” he instructed, raising a wing in a placating gesture. “To start, I oversee all the comings and goings in this magical realm, a wondrous place we call “Animal World”, inhabited by beloved souls spanning worlds across all mediums. Some of their faces may strike a pang of familiarity in your mind. Others… floating adrift lost but not forgotten, buried deep within your heart since childhood. You have so much love to give, and as a result… We've been given life, carrying on the gift of existence, spreading gratitude and friendship with others and taking on a life of our own while never forgetting our roots. Every forgotten toy, every old drawing, every character you once held dear—none of it ever truly disappears. The love you poured into those moments lingers, and here, that love becomes something real.”

Taylor blinked. “What does that even mean?”

Ryder gestured to the glowing flower pot that began the whole cacophony. “Your little friend there? That’s Squeaker, the floral-patterned hamster derived from the pocket-sized animal toy set from your eight birthday. He’s a bit of a green thumb now. His arrangements may not be perfect, but you can feel the heart and soul put into every wreath and vase.”

“Hamster?”

Sure enough, from within the rumbling mound soil emerged a tiny beige hamster, sporting a set of rose-colored petals encompassing his left eye and spots on his back. His visage eerily matched that of the same plastic, magnet-infused pet friend from the Tiniest Animal Shop toy line and the cartoon of the same name, featuring animal friends Taylor would claim “had hearts as big as their eyes”. From the chambers of Taylor’s heart sparked the same surge of excitement she’d felt on her eighth celebration of life.

“SQUEAKER!”

“Excuse me?!” Squeaker argued, addressing the owl. “My arrangements are one-of-a-kind, thank you very much. The best in the realm!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Ryder smirked. “I’m sure those little paws of yours work wonders.”

Taylor couldn’t help but giggle, their banter putting her slightly at ease. She’d expected danger when first arrived but relief relaxed her posture when she found just the opposite. Seeing the adorable fuzzball of happiness in Squeaker transformed into a passionate and defensive florist was such an amusing subversion of expectations and deviation from the canon lore.

“So, who else do we have?” she pressed, eager to see more. “Do all of my favorite characters live here?”

Ryder simply grinned. “You’d be surprised.”

As Ryder led them into the town square, Taylor trotted beside him with an unprecedented pep in her step. Ashley tightened her clawed grip on her shoulder and let out an amused chirrup as a swarm of cartoon animals and a few anime characters flooded the streets either vying for her attention or watching the scene unfold in reverent awe.

“Taylor! Is that you? We’ve been expecting you!”

That voice, if Taylor had to guess, belonged to Kit, the bubbly, crafty, bipedal red fox brandishing a blue handkerchief around his neck and an eternal smile, hailing from a kid’s cartoon she couldn’t quite place.

“Expecting me?” she laughed, half-exasperated. “Ever hear of leaving the lights on for your guests? I could’ve tripped on my way down here.”

Kit rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Haha, yeah, about that… It’s sort of a security measure. Made by yours truly, of course. We wanted to protect this sacred realm from the dark forces beyond, so our first line of defense is turning off all the lights—even the natural ones—and giving the impression of stepping into an inconspicuous basement! Pretty genius, right?”

“Sounds unique on paper,” Taylor admitted. “But in practice it seems like a hazard. Someone’s likely to trip on those stairs if they can’t see where they’re going. You could, I don’t know… install a lock on the door?”

“I COMPLETELY agree!” shouted Skye, a blue-haired effervescent boy originating from Faithful Empire and wielding the Amorous Blade. “That’s why YOU’RE in charge!” He suddenly paused, glancing at Ryder. “She is in charge, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Wait,” Taylor interjected. “First off, I didn’t sign up for this. And second…” Her gaze swept across the crowd, recognizing faces such as the dark-haired, brooding yet slightly dorky Storm from Eternal Fable VII, and—eep!—was that Zane, her beloved heartthrob from Eternal Fable IX?! “This place… Animal World, right? Why are there humans? You guys aren’t even from the same universes. You’ve got people living amongst animals and you’re just… okay with it?”

“Correct,” Ryder clarified. “Our pasts and backgrounds may differ, and though we carry burdens of the present and fear of the future, we’ve all got each other’s backs, even in our darkest times. Especially yours.”

Taylor felt her throat tighten. “Thank you.”

Ryder grinned. “Don’t let uncertainty weigh you down. Adventures are waiting, and magic’s never too far away. Go live your life.”

Taylor nodded, practically sprinting towards the entrance as Ashley held on for dear life. A torrential downpour cascaded upon them as they emerged from the cellar doors, but this time she didn’t mind the cold. Fate might have thrown her a curveball, and though it may surprise her with its chilly embrace, but now she had the unexpected warmth of some unique companions to guide her way, and she couldn’t wait to see what else the future had in store.

For once, the storms of life didn’t seem so frightening.

As the doors shut behind her, a breeze slipped through the cracks and brushed up against her cheek like a parting kiss; a whisper on the wind.

We’ll be waiting…

Taylor chuckled, her heart full. “I’ll be back soon. Save my spot.”