Page 32 of Barbie: Dreamscape

I nod, and for some reason… for some reason, my eyes sting.

Then Sandy kicks up sand in my face, and they really sting.

I grip the shell and envision the land I saw on the map, the one with the question mark. The place that I hope will bring me one step closer to finding answers.

As I picture it, trying to imagine what that symbol could possibly mean, bright pink begins to pour through my fingers.

“Ken, thank—”

Before I can finish my sentence, the sand begins to whirl around me, and I’m rushing forward in a beam of sparkling light.

Not What It Seems

Whispers like wind chimes echo through my head. The voices are so quiet I can’t make out the words.

Then something—

Tickles my face?

I open my eyes, only to see a miniature woman sitting atop my nose. I scream, but she only tilts her head at me, making my eyes cross as I try to look at her, but, no—as I peer closer, I realize she’s a grasshopper, with wings.

I blink, again, and—she becomes a bow?

That’s it. I’ve officially lost my mind. Must have left it back in Summerland. Or maybe I hit my head?

The last thing I remember is shooting forward on a stream of light. I must have landed here, hard.

I shut my eyes tightly, then open them again.

The bow is still on my nose.

Okay. You know what? A bow isn’t… so unusual, is it?

I reach up to take it in my hand, sitting up, my mind aching with the movement. Yes, I definitely hit my head. The ribbon is smooth between my fingers and red as cherries. It looks like something that belongs on a gift.

But I’m in a forest. Not necessarily a natural habitat for bows…

I squint at it—and the bow takes off, its ribbons becoming wings as it floats up into the sky.

Okay. Never mind. I’ve officially lost it.

Where am I?

I get to my feet. The trees are flush with color, thousands of flowers smothering the branches instead of leaves. Lilac, wisteria, magnolia, cherry blossoms…

I lean my hand against one of the trunks, taking it all in. The second my fingers brush the thick wood—

All the flowers fall, unleashing a torrent of petals.

I turn, and then they’re moving on an invisible breeze, fluttering in circles, swirling around and around my body, the colors bleeding together in ringed streaks. They float for far longer than should be possible, as if they’ve opted out of gravity. Like that’s… a choice that can be made. Finally, they fall, settling onto me and the soft mossy ground.

The moment they touch my skin, they transform—becoming thousands of butterflies, a whirl of wings.

I gasp. In this land… things change. They’re not what they seem. I think back to the question mark on the Archivist’s scroll symbolizing this strange place.

Now I know what it means.

The keys. My hands are empty. I scrabble around on the ground, looking for the shell, but it’s gone.