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The girl and boy traversed through the foliage, the boy gazing in awe all around him.   

The greenest leaves looked to the sky, their neighboring budding flowers all violet, indigo and cerise. Tree’s trunks reached boastfully tall, their brownish-red color making the boy question whether these trees were real or just grown in this world. Dragonflies and hummingbirds flittered about, the latter searching for those succulent honey-choked Big Time Happy Daylily.

The tranquil atmosphere was enough to spread a warm smile on the boy's face. Like the sun beaming down on the earth, the boy's curiosity touched both the creatures and forest alike. The girl, he saw quickly, was a little ways away, up near a huge treehouse. Its rotting wood was about to completely fall off, and he yelled for her to move out of the way before a plank came crashing down onto her!

But the girl skipped along underneath, clearing the place by going past the tree. She turned, cheeks red as cherries, and beckoned him to hurry. He ran after her. After catching up, he found himself mesmerized by adorable caterpillars with huge cute eyes and a tiny cheery smile.

“Aw!” The boy wanted to go hug an eggplant-purple one.

“No! You can’t hug that bug. It’s spiny and sticky. You can’t touch any of these creatures. You want to stay here forever—I know you do. Everywhere we go, you want to stay. Well, these guys aren’t your friends! Okay?”

The boy hoped the creatures weren’t offended when he said indifferently, “Whatever!”

The girl threw her hands on her hips. “Come on. There’s got to be more than this forestry. The foliage must be only part of such an extraterrestrial world!”

“But I want an adventure!”

The boy gave the girl an I-told-you-so look when he mounted a cobalt and bright green caterpillar, throwing his arms up in the air and letting out an excited cry. The girl, fists on her hips, threatened to tattle-tail on him if he didn’t listen.

“Is Mom or Dad here, or just us?” He taunted. “You’re not going to do anything. Tell me to keep walking around, admiring, when I can be riding this beast! Look at him.”  

The caterpillar chugged on, just carrying the boy. The girl ran off, her almost black brunette hair bouncing slightly behind her. When she got far—or did she, because she had no idea how far it’d was before she stopped—she looked back.

“Hooligan? You with me?”

Nothing.

“Too busy having fun. Never listens, that stepbrother of mine!”

She crinkled her nose at some Tyrian purple water. She was about to step over when it became a bridge! The girl surprised herself when she hurried along the bridge towards the awesomeness of a huge castle. “Wow! It’s like Candy Land—”  

“Nope!”       

She jolted. “Who’s there?”

“Turn around.”    

The girl ran up to the guards. “Please—I don’t know why he’s taking so long. I…I’m just a young girl. Please—a little fun never hurt anybody. If I go back, how can I enjoy the spice of life?”

She didn't like those seemingly superior to her. Hooligan and her parents got married on a whim instead of asking her first. Her friends fear her crazy, reckless stepfather (Hooligan's father), and, therefore, always have to invite her everywhere now when the party was always with her. Unlike Lucille, Hooligan didn't mind the new arrangement. People were just people, however they acted.

To her, Hooligan just barged into her life. And his boastings of a new family--something the bullies used to taunt Lucille--birthed irritated thoughts in her head. Hooligan would defend Lucille, but he also would defeat the bullies, too--something he took pride in showing off to Lucille. Lucille hated his braggadocious attitude. But not because she wanted to beat the bullies herself. Hooligan's attitude could be obnoxious. Almost arrogant. Like father, like son.

“Why, young miss.” A guard knelt down, putting his spear behind him. "No one else is you but you. Tell them, and they'll know!”

The girl nodded stiffly.

“Trust me.” He nodded, and then resumed position.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he nodded firmly.  

“Scared? Then maybe you should go with me!”

“Hooligan!”

The guards laughed.

“Hooligan? That’s a name?”     

The boy, to the girl’s horror, charged one, fighting him for his spear. Hooligan struggled, grunting and yelling threats at the guard. The other one laughed, apparently in his face, for the boy had let go of the first spear to grab the other guard’s spear. But the guard reclaimed it, holding it above his head. Hooligan threatened he’d go get his friend the Royal Caterpillar. At least that’s what he named it.

“No! You must not ride those animals. We have, and now we’re here—guards, forever, stuck in this spot to guard her castle. Just a little fun stole my ability to return to reality. You wouldn’t think it’s the worst—we’re protecting someone. But that someone has cursed us forever.”

The girl studied their eyes. They were green—envy green. She was ahead of her class by two grades, so she knew a lot more than her classmates. So she compared colors or structures to feelings or things. The guards wanted to be free. From what? This world boasted of beauty!     

The children went inside the huge castle after a guard opened the door.

“Hooligan—look! We’re in a castle, you know? How many people get a chance to tour a real castle? You’d have to pay hundreds of dollars for a ticket to Scotland or Ireland or England.” 

The girl looked in awe at all these amazing portraits of people in bright red cloaks and annatto pants and pure white cotton gloves. They looked like they wanted to ride right into the castle itself, inviting Hooligan and Lucille. However, Lucille wished they moved.

Wow! Exquisite. Unique. Astounding. So visual and full of grandeur for such beauteous creations.

“You can think that about them.” Hooligan said. “Anyway, I’m not too fond of these pictures. They remind me of your stupid plastic bug collection.” Hooligan shivered, the girl saw. “I just don’ know.”

“Don’t say ‘don’t’ like that. It’s improper.”

Hooligan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be Mom.”

Lucille rolled her eyes now. When the children saw something shiny lying on the ground, the boy went for it but then screamed. He scrambled up onto one of the pictures, clinging for dear life. Lucille ignored him. The woman’s ultramarine and heliotrope dress and the picture’s textures and shades were a bunch of shades of blue and white and green— 

“Get off my picture!” The voice shrieked. Hooligan hurled right off, and stared. However, Lucille smiled warmly. Soon, the girl heard all kinds of tired voices, like people just waking up in the morning.

“Hello? My name’s Lucille. I don’t have many friends at my school. In fact, I’m bullied, like my stepbrother. But I came to this world to get away from the nauseatingly negative responses we receive from the principal—”

“The witch has told us this world’s been miraculously changed because of all the spectacular creatures and plants outside. Well, that was too long ago.” One of the characters beckoned the little girl. “It’d take another miracle to get us out of these portraits. You can’t just think that everything’s suddenly became better through some magic. No! It’s strange.” It shook its head violently. “That’s not the word—” 

 “Peculiar?” tried the girl. “Unique? Jocular? Ambiguous? Exotic? Extraterrestrial? Magical? Odd?” She surprised the whole hallway with all her extensive vocabulary. “Just trying to help you with the right word.”

“Oh!” Another character called out. “I know—creepy. You see that key over there?”

“Yes! Hooligan freaked out.” 

Now, it was a copper snake with blood-red eyes. She widened her eyes. Then it became a person. It pointed with a clawed hand to the right. Creeped out, Hooligan threw semi-hesitant punches. Then he kicked its shin. It didn’t say or do anything but stare coldly at Hooligan. Then it shriveled down into a snake again, and then returned as a key. Hooligan glowered at it.  

“Coward!”

She returned to the picture to whom—or which—she was talking. “I know I told Hooligan—who is a weirdo, and a scaredy-cat—not to ride that caterpillar. I mean, remember all those creatures back there? The flowers were gorgeous, the hummingbirds invitingly friendly and the tree frogs curious and interesting—”  

“Get off that picture!”

Hooligan was, indeed, being a hooligan. The girl barked at him, and he finally obeyed. A huge gasp rose as the characters started running around in their own frames. “We can’t have any pictures fall! We’ll be doomed. We’ll never get out. We’ll break. Our frames are made of glass, and if the glass breaks, we pour out onto the ground, a wet mess! We melt. We don’t get back up unless someone paints us again. With the paint and paintbrush from the witch! A crazy person was locked up in a cage of his own making. Went mad from trying to meet the witch’s expectations after his madness caused him to break our portraits. Since his madness consumed him, the witch just painted him right into the painting. Hurry! We’re painted like this because we weren’t painted correctly—like my dress and my painting’s background. 

Also, the witch always changes her mind, even after the painting’s been painted, so a character could be unmoving! Worse, you’ll be snatched by the witch into servitude, painting forever to perfection. Or the witch will put you into the painting if you fail, too!”            

The character pointed left with a clawed finger at a door with the same colors as the snake—cooper and blood-red. Then he reformed again. Lucille and Hooligan looked at each other nervously, and then chanced it. Then, they came upon more hallways with pictures. These characters all ordered Hooligan and Lucille to hurry before the witch painted them unmoving. She loved children.  

“Why can’t we just get the paint from that lady?” Hooligan shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why can’t we just get the paint and the brush—” 

“Go! Every painting’s worse than the one before until the witch decides to wash us away—forever.”

The children took off, Hooligan outrunning her, and Lucille catching up to him. Hooligan strived to outrun her, but Lucille dashed away, leaving Hooligan to catch up.

Neither child outfoxed each other.      

They scampered around the whole entire world to find that paint and brush. The beautiful creatures looked so fun to ride! But the witch probably used these creatures to lure Hooligan and Lucille into eternal servitude. One time, they spotted a shiny doorknob on the ground. It became a person, pointed with a clawed hand to a door and then became a doorknob.  

The two children didn’t go for it yet. Dragonflies flew over their heads, calling to them. Others simply boasted colorful streaks of lightning blue and neon green. Lucille bit her lip, and Hooligan wrung his hands. “Man! Remember that caterpillar—”

“Yeah.” Lucille nodded, but pulled at Hooligan. “You heard the paintings!”

Hooligan grabbed and inserted the doorknob into the hole.

That key! Lucille panicked, but Hooligan nodded. He put it in the keyhole above the doorknob. Off they went through the door till they came to a huge throne room. Creeping inside it, the children gazed at the looming pillars. The fascinating paintings distracted them, too. Hooligan squinted his eyes at one.     

“Hooligan,” Lucille hissed, “get over here. Now!”

“They don’t move when they’ve failed.”

The children spun.

“You’ll be going through those doors forever if you don’t succeed in finding the paint and brush. And when you do, you’ll be painting to perfection. If you fail, you’ll be another painting up on those stone walls. But I don’t want that for you two. By all means, come. Sit. I’m lonely. No family. I’d love one!” The elegant, crowned woman went over to her silver slabbed throne. “Please,” she invited. “By all means, don’t fail, children. I need you!”  

Lucille studied her dress. Black and sparkling, it wrapped around her thin body. It was long, down past one of her clawed toes, the tip touching the dirty, dusty cement floor. She was gorgeous. Heavy dark makeup accentuated her eyes and a small sapphire necklace hung to her chest. She looked like a mother. Lucille didn’t dare ask. 

“We’re looking for some paint and paintbrush.” Lucille tucked her hands behind herself. “Besides, I’m the best in my class. I’m so much smarter than they. I’ll paint the best picture in the world for you!”

The woman smiled. “How kind of you.”

“No!” Hooligan interjected, nudging Lucille. “We don’t need to be trapped by you. You’re just wasting our time.”

The witch widened her eyes excitedly. “Did the paintings tell you that you needed paint and a paintbrush?”

“Yes, and this key.” Hooligan held it up to her, and Lucille stared at him like he didn’t know what he was doing. Because he didn’t. He never did, according to her. 

“That key goes through only the doors my servant points to.”

The key unraveled itself. That claw-handed character bowed before its mistress before becoming a key again. The intrepid children dashed away. The witch told the servant to follow them. If he failed, he’d be a painting on the wall, frozen forever. He bowed low and then galloped away as a copper horse with red eyes. The witch looked over at her stone wall.

“I would’ve been you if it hadn’t been for my smarts. My family’s the real reason why I escaped. They had this castle until I subdued them. Now, it’s mine. When those children come back, don’t you think they’ll want me to prove my family wrong?”     

The children swooped up the paint and paintbrush but not before encountering a snorting animal. It pawed the ground menacingly.    

“Hurry!”

Lucille and Hooligan tried obeying this painting, but the horse crept closer, its neighs threatening and hooves ready to kick. Finally, it lunged at them, its mouth open to devour them both. Lucille snatched the paint can, chucking it at the horse. But it reared up, flattening its ears and baring its teeth. The terrified children bolted, abandoning the paint and paintbrush. The characters screamed at them to resume their job.

But the children had already headed to a room. As they behind cloth-covered paintings and under big wash pallets, Lucille told a wondering Hooligan that she sensed these cloth-covered paintings were empty portraits from which the characters were washed. Hooligan chanced a peek. The picture was empty; just the portrait remained. He stood up, looking into one of the wash pallets, and widened his eyes.

They were filled with blue, gold and orange paint—the same colors Lucille said were used for the painting, as Hooligan saw written on a piece of tape on the portrait.          

Clasping each other, the children whimpered. They squeezed their eyes tight.

If we’re done, we’re done. The horse’s snorts fill the silent room!

Hooligan nodded glumly.

Suddenly, a loud ruckus distracted the horse. A few minutes later, the children could crawl out from the room—the characters were taunting it. Soon, it ran away. A grateful duo of children returned to the paint and paintbrush. Then bickering broke out. Each child lunged for the bucket, but someone yanked, and the paint colored the carpet and baseboards. Lucille and Hooligan tackled each other. 

“Bully!”

“Weirdo!”

When Lucille and Hooligan stopped being hooligans, they finally painted the characters, who were describing themselves. But when some characters looked at themselves, they pursed their lips and sighed. “Well—okay. I guess. Since you’re children…”

Lucille and Hooligan giggled. Lucille said that she was pretty smart. Hooligan didn’t care. Some of the characters helped the children tame the vicious horse. 

The witch was infuriated. She sent her other servants after them all, but the children subdued all these horses. Riding to the witch’s throne room, the children and characters met her. Calmly, she got up. “Let’s just settle this. We don’t need to make this a fight.”

“We’re getting out of here.”

“Or family? Mine was cruel. Wouldn’t you like to be a shapeshifting pair of children! How fun it’d be to befriend my servants.” She looked at the horses. “They’re on my side. You can’t convince them. They will always be mine. So will the characters. Once I paint them unmoving, you’ll wish you had listened to me.” Then she pulled a face, and Lucille and Hooligan found themselves about to cry after hearing her sob story about her wicked family’s enslavement of their own daughter and sister. They vanished, somewhere else. Never seen again. “But their memories will always be with me. With you two by my side, we can form the best family. Think about it. If you were abused by so-called loved ones, wouldn’t you want to replace the ugliness of the past with new, better people?”

Lucille and Hooligan thought. They looked at each other, and then back at the witch. She did speak truthfully, they felt. They also sensed she was lonely—only pictures for friends wouldn’t make for a very happy queen, would it?

“What’s in it for us?” Hooligan wanted to know. Even Lucille waited.

“You both will get all the playtime you’ve ever wanted—”   

But a character cut in. “Get your own family. No one here’s supposed to be here forever. You may treat them like your own, but these children don’t deserve you. And neither you them!”

The witch put a hand on her throne armrest, displaying five nasty sharp claws. Sliding a nasty smile up on her face, she snarled, “Says you.”

An epic battle ensued. The witch escaped. Where she went no one knows. The characters carried the children on their shoulders, crying out gratitude for their freedom.

“A miracle has happened—today!” Everyone cheered, especially the children. “We’re saved.” 

In the forest, the witch was on her back, looking up at the night sky’s stars. They glittered shinier than her dress.

“Your Majesty.”

“Steal the stars, and sew them into the clothes you will make for that boy and girl. Children like fancy clothing, right?”

“You want us to go capture them? What if they’ve already returned home—”

The woman laughed, sitting up. “What better way than to start a little family?”

The servants vowed those children would be wearing those sparkling clothes in no time. Dismissing them, the queen rested on her makeshift bed her servants had quickly made, returning to the sky.

“Guess it looks like you won’t be starry for long. Nighty night.”