The storm had rolled through during the night, loud but quick. By morning, the skies were clear—and the power was out. A downed tree had taken the neighborhood’s electricity with it, and by noon, the sun was back in full force.
Ben moved from room to room like a heat-powered zombie. The kitchen was sticky. Upstairs felt like an oven. The basement was dark and smelled like laundry. Finally, he ended up in the living room. The curtains were closed, and it felt a tiny bit cooler—less blast furnace, more slow cooker.
He dropped onto the couch and grabbed the folding fan from the table. One of those paper souvenir types his grandma had given his mom from a trip somewhere. He flipped it open and started waving it lazily in front of his face.
“We’re gonna melt,” he muttered. “This is how it ends.”
The fan made a soft whup-whup sound. Ben leaned back, trying not to move. And somewhere between one breath and the next, he drifted off.
In the dream, Ben was standing in a giant kitchen. Everything was made of metal—counters, cabinets, even the floor. Rows of glowing ovens lined the walls, and the air shimmered with heat. A baker pulled fresh bread from one of the ovens, steam rising like smoke signals.
“Where am I?” Ben asked, rubbing his face.
“The Bakehouse,” said a girl beside him, wearing a white apron. “This is where the heat begins.”
Ben looked around, sweat already forming on his forehead. “Do people seriously work in here all day?”
“They do what they can,” she said. “But if you can’t take the heat—there’s another room.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him through a heavy metal door.
Suddenly, they were outside.
The sky was wide and cloudless. A river twisted through tall grass. People rested under trees, dunked their feet in water, or fanned themselves with leaves. It was still hot, but not like before. More like… summer break kind of hot.
“This is better,” Ben said.
They followed a trail to the top of a hill, where a man stood beneath a leafy canopy, playing a guitar. The tune was soft and low, like the wind before a thunderstorm.
“He plays to keep the air moving,” the girl said.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “A guitar is helping with the heat?”
“In this place, everyone helps however they can.”
They passed a group of kids filling buckets at the river, splashing each other and laughing. It felt peaceful, like time had slowed down.
But then, far off in the distance, Ben spotted a strange flicker—like lightning inside a building.
“What’s that place?” he asked.
“The Power House,” the girl said. “When it turns back on, everything changes.”
As they got closer, he saw people gathered around the glowing walls. Some leaned against them. Some stood quietly, eyes closed, like they were listening to something deep underground.
Ben reached out and touched the wall. It was cold—ice cold.
A low hum started under his feet.
He turned to the girl. “Did you feel that?”
She smiled. “Time to wake up.”
Ben opened his eyes.
The fan had fallen into his lap. The room felt… different. Brighter. He heard a familiar sound—the TV popping back on, lights humming to life, and then, best of all, the slow whoosh of the air conditioner kicking in.
Ben sat up.
“No way,” he said.
He crossed the room and stood over the nearest vent. Cool air flowed out across his ankles and up his legs. He closed his eyes for a second and grinned.
“Finally.”
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. A message from his neighbor:
Power’s back. Shoutout to the repair crew.
Ben looked down at the fan still in his hand. He gave it a little salute before placing it back on the table.
“You held the line,” he said.
Then he walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed the coldest thing he could find.
The day had started sweaty and miserable, and for a while, it felt like the heat would win. But the hum of the AC filled the house again, steady and cool.
And honestly? It felt kind of like magic.
“Heatwave and Dreams” by Bright Bunny Books © 2025. Retelling of “The Solar Wave” from The Wonderful Fan by Aunt Ella, originally published in 1882.
“Heatwaves and Dreams” is best suited for middle school students in grades 5–7, as it blends relatable humor, imaginative dreaming, and a light narrative about resilience and comfort in everyday challenges.
Bright Bunny Books 