BLANKY

Alastair BlasterArtzand me are really proud to announce BLANKY #ART will be available to buy along with his friend and enemies soon .

A percentage will go to AAnnakennedyonlineeach story will tell how BLANLY helps teach about diversity and saving the planet you can read chapter one here . Chapter two is below Any publishers interested in the series please inbox me

BLANKY

Chapter Two – The Game Changer

Patrick stood at the edge of the basketball court, the ball clutched tightly in his hands. He’d watched the other boys play from his window countless times, imagining himself out there, hearing the thump of the ball and the cheers after a good shot.

Today, he’d worked up the courage to try.

But as soon as he stepped forward, the tallest boy—blond hair sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed—blocked his way.

“What’s he doing here?” the boy called out.

The others turned.

“He’s… you know… strange,” another said, circling Patrick like a curious cat. “Doesn’t talk much. Always staring. Probably can’t even dribble.”

Laughter rippled around the court. One boy tilted his head in a mocking imitation of the way Patrick sometimes looked at things.

Patrick’s throat tightened. He wished they’d just let him play—but the words to explain himself never came easily.

In his pocket, Blanky stirred.

Patrick, came the gentle voice, let me help.

Before Patrick could answer, the little clay figure leapt from his pocket, soaring into the air. Mid-flight, Blanky’s form stretched, shifted, and solidified into a tall, muscular basketball player, wearing a gleaming red jersey and spotless sneakers.

The court went silent.

“Whoa… where did he come from?” one of the boys whispered.

Blanky caught Patrick’s ball, dribbling it with effortless speed before passing it back. Then he faced the group.

“You’ve got a problem,” he said calmly. “You think Patrick is strange because he’s different from you. But that’s not strange—it’s human.”

The boys shuffled uncomfortably.

“You don’t know this,” Blanky continued, “but Patrick lives with something called autism. That means his brain works in a unique way—he might see, hear, and understand things differently than you do. He might need a little more time to speak, or prefer to do things in his own way. But here’s the thing—different doesn’t mean less. And it definitely doesn’t mean weird.”

The blond boy frowned. “So… he’s just… him?”

“Exactly,” Blanky said. “And if you judge someone before you understand them, you’ll miss out on knowing amazing people. Like Patrick—who, by the way, is about to show you what he can really do.”

He passed the ball to Patrick, who took a steadying breath. Dribble. Step. Jump. The ball sailed through the air and dropped neatly through the hoop.

“Nice!” one of the boys said, surprised.

They played for the next half hour. At first, the passes to Patrick were cautious, but soon the others were calling his name, trusting his shots, laughing with him instead of at him.

When the game ended, Blanky smiled, stepped back, and shimmered down into his small clay form. No one noticed as he darted back into Patrick’s pocket.

See? Blanky whispered. Sometimes people just need to be taught how to see differently.

Patrick’s lips curled into a small, proud smile. Today, he wasn’t the “weird” kid. Today, he was just Patrick—the boy who could play.