Blue Windows After Bedtime

The blue windows of Creative Cinderella Castle blinked like screens as Creative Cinderella stepped inside, cape dripping rain from the sky-lane.

Mother Goat waited in the hall in her neat blue dress. She dipped into a curtsy and grinned.

“Come to Mama, sexy cutie.”

Creative Cinderella snorted. “Hi. Also—what is that smell?”

“Mint toothpaste and panic,” Mother Goat said, nodding toward the stairs.

Upstairs, seven kid goats bounced on beds in mismatched pajama tops. One waved a toothbrush like a sword.

“She stole my blanket!”

“He used my cup!”

Creative Cinderella lifted her hands. “Okay. Bedtime. I can do bedtime. I have forty-three powers.”

“Use the one called ‘find socks,’” Mother Goat called.

Creative Cinderella tapped her phone timer, then checked the fridge list: BRUSH. WATER. STORY. LIGHTS.

Her wrist communicator buzzed: CITY ALERT—DRONES CURVING IN STRANGE WINDS NEAR CASTLE TOWERS.

She covered it with her palm. “One story first,” she said, and the room kept spinning louder

Wind in the Wash

Creative Cinderella held up her phone.

“Okay, new plan. Sleep sounds.”

A tiny speaker hissed ocean waves. One kid goat, a small cream-and-brown goat in star pajamas, blinked.

Her wrist communicator shrieked again. “DRONES—LOW—NEAR TOWERS.”

Mother Goat, the humanoid goat in the blue dress, snatched Creative Cinderella’s light blue cape off the chair.

“You stay. I do the loud outside thing,” Mother Goat said, tying the cape like she had watched a hero video once.

Before Creative Cinderella could argue, Mother Goat sprinted down the neon stairwell and out to the rooftop walkway.

Wind slapped her face. Delivery drones wobbled like shopping carts with bad wheels, then slammed into a puddly street below.

Mother Goat hurried after the crashes, cape flapping, until she reached a bright laundromat.

The door banged open by itself. Warm air whooshed out in bursts. Machines rattled like they wanted to walk away.

Inside, a smart woman with short hair waved a half-finished boot.

“My orders are soaking!” she shouted.

Mother Goat tapped Creative Cinderella’s wrist communicator to call home.

The screen flashed: “Signal Jam.”