THE REMAINING WEEKS of the school year went by in a blur. Now, Andy had no choice but to face the inevitable.

"Bye, Mike. I guess I'll see you after the summer ends?"

Andy wiped Mike's adjustable knobs and arm with a clean piece of rug fresh from his pile in the bathroom cabinet. He applied the finishing polish, and his friend gleamed like a brand new mirror. He gently pushed Mike away from the edge of his desk and slung his tiny backpack over his shoulders.

"Aunt Carol said she wants me to stay over half of the summer." Andy's shoulders slumped, then he pouted. "Then, after that, mom wants us to spend the remaining summer days in Europe. Dad won four tickets from the company raffle. I should be excited, but... mom said none of you would be coming with me. She wants me to have fun. But believe me, I am! I am having fun with all of you."

His gaze swept at his other friends, sitting lonely under the shadows of his closed curtains: Roby, the robot alarm clock; Lumi, the moon lamp; Terry, the microwave t.v.; Cad, the cactus plant; and, of course, Mike, the microscope.

"Pumpkin! What's taking you so long?" Mrs. Crow hollered from downstairs.

"Coming, mom!" he yelled back, then gathered the sleeping pug in his arms. "Come on, Chip. I guess it's just you and me now, buddy. At least mom lets me bring you with me."

The first thirty minutes of the ride from Loveland to Denver International Airport was pretty uneventful. Sort of.

"Are you sure you brought everything with you? The important ones. You know we can still go back," his mom said to him.

"Honey, we're already twenty miles away from home. Hey, watch out, kids!" Mr. Crow said when two big bikes raced past them. "You know, Andy, you'd have to think twice before riding that one. It's too dangerous."

Andy sighed as he watched the blurry lines of the sky zip past them. "Yes, dad. I won't."

"Oh-ho, you're saying it now, young man, but growing up makes you do things you've never done before. Most of it are things you swear not to."

"Have you double-checked if you have your complete set of underwear with you?" Mrs. Crow said for the nth time.

Andy groaned and hugged his backpack, almost covering his face. "Ugh, mom! Yes, I do. I haven't forgotten anything."

"Oh, my pumpkin is so shy," his mother cooed at him, extending her hands at the back of the car to pinch his cheek. "My Andy will be thirty years old, and he'll still be my baby."

After more than an hour, the family finally arrived at the airport. Mr. Crow checked them in for the flight and Chip's boarding requirement while Andy and his mom shopped for a few gift items to bring to Aunt Carol.

It had been an hour before they boarded the plane. The family squeezed themselves in the aisle until they arrived at their row and took a seat. Mr. Crow fixed Andy's only luggage in the overhead compartment. Leaning backward, Andy took a deep breath as the aircraft readied to take off. This was going to be a long vacation...

... and he could never be mistaken.

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK struck a quarter to two in the afternoon. Thirty-year-old Carol Crow squealed in delight as she clattered around, prepping the baking ingredients haphazardly.

Now and then, she muttered things like, "Andy is coming. Got to bake my nephew's favorite chocolate chip cookie."

Her wide hips swayed as she hummed a merry tune while scooping the dough into the baking sheet lined with parchment paper.

As the cookies were being baked into chewy perfection, Carol slid out an eleven-inch charcoal black wand from her apron's front pocket, which she flicked casually at the washing-up in the sink, which began to clean itself, clinking gently in the background.

A swish to the right and two brooms and a dustpan picked themselves up and started cleaning. Another swish to the left, and the newly washed rugs began polishing the table, glass tops, frames, and vases.

"Jinx! Hocus! Pocus!" she hollered at the bottom of the stairs, and three cats scrambled downstairs. One was a Persian, the other a Siamese, and the third a Maine Coon.

The three lined up at the foot of the stair, tails whipping. Carol twirled the tip of her wand, and from the basket lying idly on the mantelpiece, three pink laces floated and knotted themselves around the cats' tails.

"Lucky! Charm! Fortune!" Then came bounding down the carpet-covered stairs were three more cats—an American Shorthair, a Sphynx, and a Munchkin. Just like the first three, they too joined the line.

Carol spun the tip of her wand once again, and three blue laces floated and knotted themselves around the cats' tails.

"Ooh, my adorable munchkins. I'm sure Andy's ecstatic to see you. And he's bringing with him a friend," she said in a high-pitched sing-song voice, curling at the end of the note.

The house became rather small and cramped as the furniture rearranged themselves at Carol's command.

There is just one me
Oh, dear, there's a lot of work
Keep the house so squeaky clean
Dear Andy's on his way.

Swish and scrub
So very little time
Sprinkle some-o glittery magic
There's nothing you rugs can't do.

Swish and clean
Now brooms be on your way
Oh no, the cats have broken a vase
Dear Andy's on his way.

Swish and bake
I hear the oven ding
Now Jinx, don't you dare lick that cookie
Dear Andy's on his way.

Aah! Wasn't this fun!
We sing as we all clean.
Our work is done, I'm satisfied
Dear Andy's on his—

A car honked outside from the driveway, and everything in the house froze still.

"Charm, can you please take a look at who it is?"

Meow.

The almost skeletal and hairless cat, Charm, leaped onto the windowsill, scanning the driveway with his narrow-slit irises. His vivid blue eyes widened in surprise, and so he jumped back down like a spring toy and darted towards Carol and the still-frozen cleaning tools.

Meow.

Carol gasped and said in a hushed whisper. "Oh, no. Andy's here?"

Meow.

"But they're ten minutes early! Quick, cleaning tools. Into the cupboard. Into the drawer. And into somewhere not within sight."

With a bold wave of her wand, the cleaning gears scrambled about towards their storage place: the vacuum boxed itself; the utensils and plates dove into kitchen drawers and dish racks; the brooms and dustpans sped into the staircase cupboard; the garbage can sneaked back into the kitchen; the rugs folded themselves in a hamper. All the sounds of squishing and whooshing ceased to a stop. It was silent, just like it had been all year.

"My little munchkins, assemble!"

All six cats lined up in a single row in the foyer. Six pairs of eyes glowed amidst the sweet afternoon light. And their tails whipped violently side-to-side at the smell of reeking mutt nearing their territory.

"No, no, you six. I want you all to behave. Don't you dare gang up on Chip. I must forbid anything that might upset my dear little nephew." Carol pranced around the mantelpiece, retrieved a yellow party popper, and joined the ranks of the feline.

"Don't we have to knock first, Andrew?" said the muffled voice of Emilia, her sister-in-law, just mere steps outside her porch.

Her stiletto-covered feet began to shift when the knob twisted, and the door swung open.

"Carol told me just to open the door. She has a surprise—"

And a loud popping noise pinned them to the spot. Their jaws dropped, and their eyes swelled in mixed amazement and mystification. Chip wriggled free from Andy's arms. All six cats launched themselves at the poor mutt, and they ran free across the trimmed lawn.

"Welcome back, Andy!"

THE NEIGHBORHOOD of South of Broad in Charleston, South Carolina, was just how it was the first time Andy had been there.

It was defined by cobblestone streets, horse-drawn carriages, and pastel antebellum houses. Those massive townhouses with gallery porches modestly turned to the side, so they didn't look directly out at the cobbled streets. Sidewalks curved abruptly to leave room for the trunks of ancient live oak trees.

High brick walls couldn't quite contain the pleasant sound of the fountains and birds inside. Where the walls break at front walks and driveways, pedestrians could peek at elegant gardens and admire the intricate design of the wrought-iron fences.

Now, sitting in his aunt's favorite settee inside the living room, Andy couldn't help but admire its interiors even more. The home consisted of two floors: the downstairs consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, and a hall, and the upper floor consisted of two toilets and four deluxe bedrooms. Inside, the house was, if anything, even neater than perfectly presented gardens. The living room was decorated in pastel tones of beige, salmon pink, and peach pastel tones. The kitchen was filled with spotless modern top-of-the-range appliances. The dining room had a large table enough for a family of eight.

"My sweet nephew Andy, Auntie made some cookies for you." Carol placed a small saucer containing large chunks of cookies in front of him. "And here's a warm milk to pair up with these."

He dunked one in the warm milk and stuffed it whole in his mouth, then he said in a muffled voice. "Aunf Cawol—"

"Oh, shush." She placed a finger in front of her lips, her thin and slender figure towering above him. "You don't talk when your mouth is full, Andy Crow."

Andy nodded and gulped the milk to swallow the cookie faster. "Sorry, Aunt Carol."

"Oh, forgiven," she said in yet another sing-song voice.

Andy eyed his aunt between eating his cookies and drinking his warm milk. If something had changed from his last visit in South of Broad, that would be his aunt. She was nothing like the short and plump Aunt Carol from the previous year. She was now as thin as those billboard models and as girly as ever, with her head-to-toe matching outfits in beige. Several old gaudy rings adorned her slender fingers. She looked even more like his dad with the same thin face, glossy black tresses, and deep black eyes.

Andy swallowed his fourth piece of cookie, and he made sure nothing else was left. "Aunt Carol?"

"Yes?"

"Why can't mama and papa stay for the night?"

"Oh," she said with a simpering high-pitched voice, then chortled. "They'll manage. But anyway, now it's time for me to discuss my—"

"Hey!" Andy inadvertently cut her off when he spotted the cats swarming around his luggage. Lucky, Aunt Carol's American Shorthair, scratched and nipped the spinner wheels. And Fortune practically pounced on it so that his luggage now lay on its back. Chip growled at the cats, but every time he'd go near, he would either get a scratch or a chomp on one of his ears.

"Ahem! Dear nephew, Aunt Carol would deeply appreciate it if your attention is solely on her as she has something important to say." She smiled at him so sickly sweet that he wanted to cringe. He extracted his attention away from his language and those prying cats. Poor Chip was being bullied, but Andy couldn't gather him in his arms with Aunt Carol pinning him on his seat.

"Good! Since you are going to stay here for quite some time, I'll have to establish rules, yes?" Aunt Carol's mouth stretched, reaching the tip of her ears while batting her eyelashes. Andy took the urge not to vomit at the sentry plant beside his settee.

"Y-Yes, Aunt Carol," he said in an almost unheard voice since he didn't want to open his mouth that much, or else he would vomit.

"Great! Aunt Carol's Rule Number 1: Do not sleep late and be in bed by 9 PM. Rule number two—" she flashed two fingers up "—Andy Crow shall abide by his aunt's daily diet plan."

Hearing this, Andy grabbed another cookie from his plate, supposing it would be his last time tasting it. Aunt Carol's diet plan was the least thing he liked in this house. Before he could do so to open his mouth to voice out, Carol bulged her eyes in warning.

"Uh, uh, no questions 'til I say so, dear nephew. Rule Number 3: Andy Crow will assist his aunt when needed. Rule Number 4: No snooping around, dear nephew, especially in that room. Do you know what I mean?"

Andy nodded a yes. Though he'd been dying to ask what was so special about it? And what was she trying to conceal in that empty room?

"And lastly, rule number five, have some fun! And by having fun, that means..."

She sprang to her feet and wadded towards his luggage to unzip it. Aunt Carol carefully extracted his clothes and found Andy's most prized possession underneath the pile—his telescope.

"Telly!" He jumped to his feet in an attempt to snatch it from his aunt. But the cats gathered around him, hissing, and Chip hadn't done anything to help except bark.

"Oh, this has a name?" she said with one brow raised, inspecting the telescope with squinted eyes. "And what do you plan to do with this?"

"S-Stargazing."

"Ooh, nice hobby. But what is that logbook doing here?" She bent down to pick a yellow logbook where he kept some important data of his experiments. She opened and flicked through the pages. "Hm, I don't understand a thing in here." She slammed it shut. "But you have to part with it for a little while."

"A little while? How much is a little while, Aunt Carol?" he whined.

"Hmm, let's see. 'A little while' is until I say so."

"B-But you said to have fun. I'm having fun with those. What's wrong with that?"

Aunt Carol sighed, feeling a little soft in the heart. And if Andy continued having that puppy face, she might give in. "What I mean, Andy, is to have fun like typical kids your age. You don't have to lock yourself in your world. The world is vast. There are more things for you to see. Things you can't even imagine. And I'm trying to help you here."

Andy remained silent, and a regretful sigh made its way out of his lips. Maybe he should have opted with his initial plan of taking his cat-allergy activator solution. Then probably, he would have an excuse not to go. Still, the solution had not gone to so many tests yet. It would be dangerous to first try it to himself.

"Go upstairs now and have your clothes changed. I have lots of summer activities planned, and that will start tomorrow. For now, I just want you to have your rest. I'll send you your luggage to—"

Hocus, Aunt Carol's Siamese cat, was a little touchy than usual. She meowed and rubbed herself at his aunt's pink frilly stockings. Andy might be only imagining but he swore he saw the cat grin at him if that could be possible.

"What is it, Hocus?" Aunt Carol asked as she rubbed the feline under her chin and the cat purred.

He eyed the cat in contempt. Andy smelled trouble.

Meow, it said. Andy didn't know anything about cat language but Aunt Carol and her cats seemed to be communicating fine! How was that even possible?

"Oh, I see." She nodded and marched towards the settee where Andy set down his backpack.

How did she know? It's not like... it's not like cats can save telepathic waves, can they? he told himself as he watched crestfallen how Aunt Carol took even his backpack away.

Without another word, he climbed the stair leading to the second floor, he noticed the cupboard door rattled as if someone was straining to get out. He swore he saw a broom handle peek out of its doors, but Aunt Carol arrived with unsettled eyes as she leaned against the door before he could look closely.

She knocked on the white varnished door and let out a shaky laugh. "Hm, might need a little fixing."

ANDY COULD CLEARLY see his doom, but he braved himself and entered his aunt's bedroom with Chip in tow.

It was already 10 in the evening, and Andy just broke his aunt's first rule on his first night in her house! Before Aunt Carol tucked him to bed, she told him she'd be gone until midnight. And where had his aunt gone to anyway? Surprisingly, none of the cats were in sight. He expected them to be guarding outside their master's room and block his way in. But actually, none of that mattered. All he could think of at the moment was to get his things back.

Stepping into Aunt Carol's room reminded Andy of a girly gingerbread house. She had a cabinet full of sweets and stored desserts: fruit candies, jellies, cookies, cake pops, sweetbreads, and chocolates. She had each of her cats' pictures framed and lined on a shelf. The wall paint matched the house's sugary pink, peach, and beige motif. And her bed was a four-poster with frilly curtains hanging on each side.

"Okay, Chip. We don't have time to waste."

Andy rummaged through every cabinet, tossed and turned fabrics to see if it was hidden underneath. He had looked everywhere: under the bed, in her bathroom cabinet and vanity table. He tried pushing the walls like those in the sci-fi movies he watched, but nothing.

Chip barked louder than wanted.

"Shh, Chip. I'm concentrat—aha! I found it."

But Chip nipped at his shirt, growling.

Andy turned his head to him frustratingly. "Okay, what is it?"

The pug stuck his tongue out, and Andy swore Chip looked like he was smiling. Then the dog turned his back on him and trotted outside the room.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Andy ran out after him, his backpack now back in his possession, and followed Chip down the stairs. The dog's tail disappeared in the corner. Andy was confused. Chip only acted like this when he thought he saw something he'd love to chase.

His rascally puny dog was already gaining a reasonable distance and still running at breakneck speed. Andy followed the sound of his paws, and it led him in front of the forbidden room he tried so hard to evade.

His eyes bulged with fear and worried when he heard Chip's whimper. There was no helping it, but it looked like Andy was going to break yet another of his aunt's rules. Despite the gnawing fear, he pushed the slightly ajar door open in a begrudging creaky sound, only to find nothing, not even Chip.

"Chip?" Andy's voice quivered, close to tears, not knowing what happened to his dog or where to find him. There was nothing in here for Chip to hide. It was windowless and empty.

A musty odor crept into his nose. The walls showed black decay by neglect. Splotches of original paint hinted at the room's former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey.

Nothing could have possibly hurt him here, right? He convinced himself over and over again. Andy recalled what he heard in this room that night and those moments when Aunt Carol would tell him to leave strange objects in front of this room. There was nothing of what people call "out of the ordinary." The only ones who could hurt humans were humans too.

Out of the corner of his eye, a tiny glint of yellow light pulsed. Chip's collar lay at the base of the chimney. Its owner was nowhere in sight.

"C-Chip!" He ran for it, now tears betraying him into escaping. He crouched into all fours, crawling into the hearth. He felt the gold plate bearing his dog's name as he sobbed silently in the middle of the dank, cold room.

A scream escaped from him when a tiny flame sparked at the base. His head caught the stone firebox, making him hiss in pain. The flame caught his hand, but with the panic he felt, Andy hadn't realized that the flame didn't hurt him. It was too late to get out. The flame grew until it burned into a fire.

The fire felt like a warm breeze, though. He opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"W-What's happening?" he coughed.

It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant plughole. He seemed to be spinning very fast. The roaring in his ears was deafening. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the whirl of golden flames made him feel sick as it swallowed him. His dinner churned inside him. And then, he fell, face forward, onto a cold stone and felt his glasses shatter.