Pounce and the Midnight Pocket — Under the cold tick-tick of the town clock, Pounce tucked his paws beneath the bakery awning and watched sparks flower over the snowy square. Read the full story →
Under the cold tick-tick of the town clock, Pounce tucked his paws beneath the bakery awning and watched sparks flower over the snowy square. He wanted one midnight sparkle for his empty party popper, just one, before the year turned and everyone shouted too loudly to hear secrets.
So he slipped from the warm bread smell into the blue snow. His bow ribbon snagged on an iron bench, and he left a silky strip behind to free himself. At the fountain, a paper hat blew upside down. Nobody looked inside hats after the party started, which is exactly why Pounce looked. Tucked under the folded band was a tiny pocket with a brass button, humming like a bee in a jar.
“Psst—press me at twelve,” whispered the button. Pounce’s whiskers prickled. When the clock boomed, he pressed it, and his popper puffed out not paper, but a silver map of sparkles showing every hidden wish in the square. He carried it back under the awning, warmer than before, while sparks flowered over the snowy square—can you spot the secret-ready popper in his paw?
