A Day by Train to the Magic City

Once upon a bright morning, the wind rushed around the little mouse house as cheerfully as if it had found a secret treasure somewhere. It swept through the garden, tugged at Lotti’s dress, whirled around Motti’s blue cap, and then, quick as a wink, laid two golden tickets right in front of the door.

Surprised, Lotti picked one up, and there, yes, there, a tiny star began to sparkle. “Motti!” she called. “Our names are written here!”

Motti came out of the house with his backpack, and the moment he bent over the second ticket, a tiny letter hopped about on it, as if it could hardly wait to be read.

Today the Magic Train rides to the Magic City. Lotti and Motti may come aboard.

Lotti fetched her pink suitcase, Motti tucked a moon biscuit into his pocket, and off they ran. Well, and the wind, the wind rolled ahead of them like a little invisible ball.

When they arrived at the magic station, the train was already waiting at the platform. It was blue, it was pink, its wheels shone gold, and at the front of the engine hung a star that shimmered sleepily to itself. And what was that? Something pointy was sticking out of the luggage car.

At first it looked like a crumpled cloth. Then it wriggled, bounced up, tumbled onto a suitcase, and cried, “There you are! I’m Zippelzack. Come along now, the Magic City is waiting!”

Zippelzack and the Sleepy Train

Zippelzack wobbled back and forth on the suitcase as if he were the most important hat at the whole station, and his crooked tip pointed first toward the engine, then toward Lotti, then toward Motti, until the sleepy star at the front of the train grew just a little brighter.

“There we are,” cried Zippelzack. “He can hear me already. A magic train only needs the right spell, then it rolls over tracks, clouds, and rainbows without losing its way even once.”

The train gave a deep, tired “puff,” and the steam curled so slowly out of the chimney that it seemed to have no appetite for adventures at all that day.

Zippelzack took this very personally. He hopped from the suitcase onto the platform, straightened his tip, and called out in his grandest hat voice:

Zippel, zappel, starry stew, Magic train, roll backward through!

No sooner had the last word flown out than the engine snorted in fright, the golden wheels turned the wrong way, and the whole train rolled a small piece backward, just far enough for a suitcase in the luggage car to rattle and for Motti’s moon biscuit to hop out of his pocket.

The moon biscuit rolled across the platform, made a little curve, and came to rest right in front of Zippelzack.

Lotti looked at Motti, Motti looked at Lotti, and then they both laughed so much that even the tired star on the engine began to blink.

Zippelzack pulled his brim a little lower.

“That was, of course, the backward test,” he said. “Very important. One must know whether a train can go the other way too.”

Just then, the two tickets in Lotti’s and Motti’s paws lit up. The letters hopped all over the place, spun once in a circle, and then arranged themselves into a new spell.

Lotti read the first words, Motti read the next ones, and this time Zippelzack only whispered along very quietly:

Zippel, zappel, starry bright, Magic train, wake up to light. Wheels go glitter, windows clack, Take us to the city — clack!

A golden hum went through the whole train. The windows grew bright, the wheels sparkled, the star at the front of the engine lifted itself upright, and from the chimney rose a curl of steam that looked like a laughing face.

“Bimmelblitz is awake!” cried Zippelzack.

The magic train whistled so loudly and merrily that the pennants at the station fluttered, and this time it did not roll backward. It rolled exactly where Lotti and Motti wanted to go: straight toward the first adventure.

In the Carriage of Wandering Windows

No sooner had Bimmelblitz sent his first cheerful whistle over the station than a door It rolled exactly where Lotti and Motti wanted to go: with a golden rim sprang open, and Zippelzack hopped inside so quickly that one might have thought the train could never find the right carpet in the carriage without him.

“This way, this way!” he called. “The best seats, of course, are wherever the windows are especially curious.”

Lotti pulled her pink suitcase behind her, Motti held tight to his moon biscuit, and soon they were standing in a carriage that was much larger on the inside than it had looked from the outside. The seats were soft as little clouds, star lamps swayed from the ceiling, and tiny golden lines ran back and forth across the tables as if they were secretly practicing the way to the Magic City.

Zippelzack settled himself right in the middle of the table, rocked his brim, and cried, “Very good. Very comfortable. Very hat-worthy.”

“Hats don’t sit on tables,” said Motti.

“Magic hats do,” cried Zippelzack. “Otherwise one never sees the moon biscuits in time.”

Just then, a little trolley rolled down the aisle, with three moon biscuits dancing in a circle on top of it. One jumped onto Lotti’s napkin, one spun in front of Motti like a small golden top, and the third rolled straight toward Zippelzack until the hat lifted his brim in alarm.

“Now, now,” he cried. “I am not a biscuit station.”

Bimmelblitz chuffed happily, and the windows began to wander. First the magic station glided past outside, then a field full of blue flowers, then a bridge with red lanterns, and when Lotti moved a little closer, her window suddenly showed golden fish swimming peacefully through the air, as if the sky were a quiet pond.

Motti pressed the moon biscuit to his chest. “Are we really going past that?”

Zippelzack bent his tip forward in a mysterious way. “Not past. Through it, over it, under it, and sometimes right through the middle of the sparkle.”

Ahead of the train, the sky turned dark blue, and between two hills a tunnel opened, full of little stars blinking like fireflies in the night.

Bimmelblitz slowed down, the wheels rang more softly, and a new sentence appeared on Lotti’s ticket:

The Star Tunnel is still asleep. Please tickle it kindly.

The Star Tunnel Giggles

Zippelzack bent so far over Lotti’s ticket that his tip nearly touched the glowing sentence.

“Tickle it kindly,” he read, making an important little hat-rattle. “That is, of course, a very delicate kind of magic. Star tunnels are more ticklish than daisies and much more sensitive than cake crumbs.”

Bimmelblitz stood before the tunnel and softly chuffed to himself as the stars in the entrance blinked sleepily. Some sparkled with only one eye, some hung crookedly in the darkness, and one yawned so widely that its light became completely round for one little moment.

“I can do that!” cried Zippelzack, before Lotti or Motti could say anything, and he hopped onto the windowsill and sang with his brim fluttering:

Tickle, scratchle, sugar hat, Star Tunnel, keep your nap!

The tunnel grew even darker. The stars pulled in their light, the entrance sank down a little, and Bimmelblitz gave such an indignant “tuuuff” that Zippelzack rolled backward into Motti’s moon biscuit.

“That was not tickling,” said Lotti.

“That was a lullaby,” said Motti.

Zippelzack scrambled out of the moon biscuit crumbs and shook his brim. “A very short lullaby. Only for testing.”

Then the letters on Lotti’s ticket hopped onward, and this time they did not dance all over the place. They curled like tiny golden fingers around the edge.

With laughter, light, and scarf-swishing too, The tunnel wakes for little mice like you.

Lotti took her scarf and let it dance back and forth in front of the train lantern, very gently at first, then more and more merrily, until the light painted golden curls on the tunnel wall. Motti held his moon biscuit in front of it, and through the little hole in the middle fell a round spot of light that hopped over the stars like a cheeky sunbeam.

Then the Star Tunnel began to giggle.

The stars wriggled, the blue light grew, and little sparks ran along the tunnel walls as if they were playing chase. Bimmelblitz wiggled his wheels with joy, Zippelzack quickly straightened his tip, and this time he called out together with Lotti and Motti:

Tickle, sparkle, starlight glow, Star Tunnel, let us go!

The tunnel opened its glittering darkness, Bimmelblitz whistled cheerfully and rolled inside, and all around Lotti, Motti, and Zippelzack, the stars flew so close past the window that one of them dabbed a golden dot onto the magic hat’s brim.

“I meant to do that!” cried Zippelzack. “That is a travel badge!”

The Rainbow That Became a Button

When Bimmelblitz rolled out of the Star Tunnel, he carried a few sparkling dots along with him, and now they danced outside the windows, hopped across the meadow, and settled on the red poppies as if they wanted to have a little star picnic there.

Ahead of the train, the tracks ended in the middle of the grass, and right there a thin rainbow thread hovered in the air, so narrow that not even Zippelzack, with his brim, could have comfortably walked across it.

Bimmelblitz braked carefully, snorted a long “tuuuuff,” and let his steam drift over the meadow in little questioning curls.

“No need to worry,” cried Zippelzack, jumping onto Motti’s backpack. “Rainbow paths are my very favorite favorite paths. I know a spell for them that is so good even the colors know it by heart.”

Lotti held her ticket a little tighter, for the tiny star on it was already blinking restlessly.

Zippelzack stretched his tip high and sang:

Rainbow, round and fine, Make yourself small as a stone!

The rainbow thread twitched, curled itself together, and plopped down into the grass as a colorful button.

Motti picked up the button carefully, and Lotti had to laugh because the rainbow button shone in his paw like a tiny candy.

Bimmelblitz found it less funny. He snorted so deeply that Zippelzack nearly slipped off the backpack.

“A button is useful too,” the hat cried quickly. “In case anyone has a rainbow coat.”

“We need a path,” said Lotti, laying her ticket beside Motti’s rainbow button.

Then the letters on both tickets hopped all over the place, the button spun once, grew bigger and bigger, and when Lotti and Motti read together, Zippelzack bent his tip very politely downward and waited until the final word:

Rainbow, shining, wide, and bright, Make the train a path of light. Red and yellow, blue there too, Bimmelblitz, now hurry through!

The button sprang into the air, unrolled itself, and stretched out as a shining bridge across the whole meadow. Bimmelblitz whistled with delight, the golden wheels glittered, and the train drove up onto the rainbow, so soft and round that the moon biscuits on the table did not crumble even a little.

Zippelzack spun in the colorful light and cried, “That is exactly how I meant to do it. Only first as a button, for practice!”

Perhaps, Yes, Just Perhaps

Bimmelblitz carried Lotti, Motti, and Zippelzack over the rainbow, and the colorful light ran through the whole carriage, over Lotti’s pink suitcase, over Motti’s backpack, and over Zippelzack’s brim, which now shimmered so splendidly that the hat secretly admired himself in the window.

“A very successful rainbow,” he cried. “Anyone can see at once that I helped.”

Bimmelblitz whistled as if he were laughing softly and rolled onward, until the rainbow grew soft beneath the wheels and turned into bright cloud tracks. The red poppies now lay far below them like tiny dots on a green blanket, and ahead of them something glittered among the clouds.

At first it was only a golden point, then a roof with starry points, then a tower that rang softly, and at last the Magic City lay before them, blue and golden and so sparkling that it looked as though someone had lowered a little piece of the sky.

Lotti pressed her ticket close to her. Motti stood on his tiptoes, and even Zippelzack stopped making grand speeches for a moment.

Bimmelblitz slowed down, the cloud tracks sank lower, and soon his wheels were rolling over shining rails again. At the end of the platform stood a tall gate of gold and blue, and in its center a star was sleeping.

Lotti’s ticket began to glow one more time.

Welcome before the Magic City. Please keep the first wish safe.

“Keep a wish safe?” whispered Motti.

Zippelzack cleared his throat and looked very serious. “Wishes are best kept in the left corner of the brim. I almost never lose anything there.”

Then Lotti and Motti placed their tickets against the gate, and the star in the middle slowly opened its light. Not far. Only a tiny crack. Just enough for a golden stripe to slip across the platform and touch Lotti’s boots, Motti’s moon biscuit, and Zippelzack’s crooked tip.

Music sounded from the city, very softly, as if a carousel were turning somewhere. A lantern blinked. Behind a tower, something silver fluttered past, perhaps a bird, perhaps a magic letter, perhaps even something that had a name only in the Magic City.

Bimmelblitz snorted contentedly, and Zippelzack straightened his brim.

“Well,” he said, “one does not simply walk into a Magic City. One enters with open eyes.”

Lotti and Motti looked through the golden crack, and for one moment there was a castle, a fountain full of stars, and a street that looked as if it led straight into the next adventure.

Perhaps, yes, just perhaps, the Magic City had been waiting for them all along.