Adventures From the Land of Stories Boxed Set

by Chris Colfer

  “What’s it like?” Violetta asked.

  “Horrible,” she said. “Just like the Dragon Age, only the destruction is caused by man. It’s a world of vastly different cultures in vastly different terrains, all fighting one another for dominance.”

  “Were you scared?” Coral asked.

  “I was horrified,” she said, “but not as frightened as a little boy I found hiding in the rubble. He was trembling and starving. Barbarians had destroyed his village and killed his family. I gave him some food and took him to safety. However, the only thing that lifted his spirits was when I told him the stories of Cinderella and Rapunzel.”

  I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at the sound of their ridiculous names.

  “Why did that cheer him up?” Xanthous asked.

  “Because in the other dimension, or the Otherworld as I call it, there is no magic,” the Fairy Godmother said. “Hearing how magic helped and influenced the people in our world let the poor boy forget his troubles for just a moment. It brought him a little peace during the worst time of his life.”

  “Is the little boy all right now?” Coral asked.

  “Yes—but that’s the strangest thing about the Otherworld,” the Fairy Godmother said. “I found an elderly couple who agreed to look after the boy so I could return to this world. I was only here a week or so, but by the time I returned to the Otherworld to check on him, the boy had become a man! He had a wife and children of his own.”

  “A man?” Tangerina said. “Do they grow faster in the other dimension?”

  “The Otherworld moves much faster than our world does,” she said. “A day for us may be months to them. A year could be a century.”

  “Remarkable!” Skylene said.

  “The man said my stories saved his life and they gave him hope after a devastating time. He passed them down to his own children and called them fairy tales. I’ve been returning to the Otherworld every chance I get to spread our stories to other children in need.”

  “That explains your recent behavior,” Emerelda said.

  “I apologize for my negligence,” the Fairy Godmother said. “Every time I travel to the Otherworld it’s in much worse shape than the time before. There are more and more children who desperately need something to believe in. Which brings me to the reason I asked you to meet me today. I’ve seen firsthand what a difference these stories have made in the children’s lives, but I can’t continue doing it alone. The more of us there are, the more likely I think the stories have a chance of being heard. So, I’m hopeful you all will join me in spreading the stories of our world around the Otherworld.”

  The great hall became very quiet, like when a friend who owes you money asks for more. It was so tense, I openly took a swig from the flask I hide in my bonnet—I didn’t even try to sneak it.

  “Show us this world,” Xanthous said. “How can we get there?”

  “The magic of traveling between worlds is so unique, I believe I’m the only one capable of it,” the Fairy Godmother said. “But I’ve managed to put that magic into a portal. Follow me, I’ll show you where it is.”

  The Fairy Godmother led us to the south tower of the Fairy Palace. The room was circular and empty except for an archway that had been built in the center. The Fairy Godmother pulled a lever on the wall and a blue curtain appeared under the arch. Beyond the curtain was a very bright room.

  “This is one of many portals I plan on creating if you agree to help me,” she said. “The Otherworld is just through this curtain—but brace yourselves, the journey may be a shock.”

  She stepped through the curtain, and we followed her. I told Lester to stay behind—he gets gassy when he’s overwhelmed.

  I was wrong about the other side of the curtain; it wasn’t a room of light, but a world of light! For a moment I thought I was the one on pixie dust! We fell through a bright, never-ending space for what felt like forever. I saw the other fairies spinning and circling around me. There didn’t seem to be an end in sight until all nine of us landed in a damp grassy field.

  I got up and looked around at the Otherworld with my own eyes. It was even worse than the Fairy Godmother described.

  “What a dump!” I said.

  At first, I thought an amazing party had happened the night before, because there were hundreds of passed-out men scattered around the field. The fairies screamed when they saw the men. I took a closer look and realized the bodies weren’t unconscious but dead! A terrible battle had happened here, not a party. And if the smell was any indication, it had happened a while ago.

  “What a terrible place,” Tangerina said.

  “I’ve never seen such a sad sight,” Violetta sniffed.

  “This isn’t even the worst I’ve seen,” the Fairy Godmother said. “Women and children are also slaughtered in times of war. Mercy is a very rare privilege in this world.”

  In the distance, there were people taking the armor, the weapons, and any goods they could find off the bodies. Tears came to the fairies’ eyes. If I were in touch with my emotions, mine would have welled up, too.

  The Fairy Godmother led us to the closest village, and our spirits sank even more. There was poverty everywhere you looked. With no homes to go to, mothers sat on the side of the road cradling their crying infants. Children begged for food and money from everyone they saw. We gave them everything we had—although none of them wanted my bonnet, which was a little offensive. Apparently beggars can be choosers.

  “Do you understand why I’m so passionate about helping the people here?” the Fairy Godmother asked. “We’ve made our world a safe and peaceful place, and now I believe magic has brought us here to do the same. Will you help me help them?”

  The fairies looked at one another in a very determined manner.

  “I will,” Emerelda said.

  “As will I,” Xanthous said.

  “Absolutely,” Skylene and Tangerina said together.

  “You can count on us,” Violetta said, and Coral nodded.

  “With you one hundred percent,” Rosette said.

  Everyone turned to me because I was the only one who hadn’t agreed to it yet. I hesitated because I was scared. I could barely help the people in our world. How was I going to make a difference in a place like this?

  “And what about you, Mother Goose?” the Fairy Godmother asked.

  “Okay, I’ll join, too,” I said. “I just hope I don’t make things worse.”

  Lesson learned: Be careful what you wish for. When I hoped for a place to escape to now and then, I never thought I’d end up in the likes of the Otherworld. What have I gotten myself into?

  1349, LONDON (OTHERWORLD)

  Dear Diary,

  Today was my first solo trip into the Otherworld, and, boy, was I dreading it. For months I’ve been listening to the fairies brag about all the children they’ve been helping and it’s intimidated my socks off. Their stories are so touching and heartfelt, I knew I could never have the same impact.

  For starters, the fairies really look the part. They’re always dressed in bright, shimmering, colorful clothes, like they’re performing in an obnoxious parade. I get headaches if I look at them for too long, and children love that gimmicky crap.

  Another thing: I’ve never been good with kids. They never appreciate my humor. They say I talk funny and smell weird, which stings when it’s coming from a kid with a lisp who’s covered in chocolate. Every baby I’ve ever been in contact with has peed or thrown up on me—even when I’m not holding it! It’s like I’m a walking hazardous wastebasket to them.

  Needless to say, I was very nervous about the whole thing. I seriously regretted signing up for it.

  I crossed through the portal and ended up in a town called London in a country called England. I’ve heard the fairies speak so highly of it, but it was miserable! Or at least the condition I found it in was.

  The city was like a big foggy maze, and there were rats everywhere! The streets were filled with people lying on the ground wh
o coughed and moaned horribly—like I do on the mornings after I’ve had too much bubbly. But these people weren’t recovering from a night of careless drinking, they were sick—the sickest I’ve ever seen!

  Their skin was pale and there were dark circles under their eyes. Their glands were so swollen they protruded out of their necks and down their bodies. Their fingers and toes were black, as if their bodies had begun rotting while they were still alive.

  I use the term alive loosely, because many looked like they were already dead. I couldn’t help but scream when I turned a corner and found a large pile of bodies stacked right in the middle of town. The liveliest person I saw was a man wearing a birdlike mask who was pulling a wagon of more dead bodies, which he dumped with the others.

  “Excuse me, sir.” I said. “I’m new in town. What’s going on here?”

  “Madame, you mustn’t be walking the streets without a mask on!” he said. “You’ll catch the Black Death.”

  “Black Death?” I asked. “Where I come from, that’s a wrestling move I invented. What does it mean here?”

  “It’s a terrible plague,” he said. “It’s taken more than half the lives in this country, and even more throughout Europe.”

  “A plague?” I said in disbelief.

  Of course! There would be a deadly epidemic the first time I came to the Otherworld by myself—it was just my luck. How was I supposed to help anyone under these circumstances? If I wasn’t nervous before, I definitely was now. I needed a drink.

  “Is there a tavern around here?” I asked him.

  “What’s a tavern?” he asked.

  “You know, a place that serves alcoholic beverages,” I explained, but that didn’t register with him, either.

  “Alcohol?” he asked.

  “Yeah, the sterilizing liquid originally invented for medicinal purposes but was later developed into a variety of consumable flavors for consumers to abuse.”

  Still, it wasn’t ringing a bell.

  “I’ve never heard of a tavern, but it’s a fine idea,” the man said.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Do you know of any children in the area who could use a hand?”

  He pointed down a winding street. “There’s a church down this road that’s housing orphans, but I wouldn’t go there if I were you. All the children are infected.”

  “Trust me, it’ll take more than a plague to poison the blood in my veins,” I said. “Thank you for the directions.”

  I traveled down the road and stopped at a building that had several tiny coffins stacked outside it. I figured this must be the place. It was an eerie sight, and my heart began to race. Thankfully I found my backup flask in my hat and took a swig from it.

  I knocked on the door and a nun wearing a mask answered. I could only see her eyes, but the dark circles under them were just as bad as the people’s outside. However, hers weren’t from illness but exhaustion.

  “Can I help you?” she asked me.

  “I was wondering if I could help you,” I said. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d ask if you needed any assistance with the children.”

  “God bless you,” the nun said. She was so relieved I thought she might kiss me. “I’ve been taking care of the orphans for two days straight without sleep. Please come in.”

  The nun led me inside the church and took me into a back room. There were a dozen beds but only three were occupied with children: two boys and one girl. They had terrible coughs and were just as pale and swollen as the people outside. One of the boys was so ill he could barely keep his eyes open.

  “The plague took their parents,” the nun said. “A week ago we were turning children away, and now these are who remain.…”

  “Why don’t you get some rest,” I said. “I’ll look after the kiddos.”

  “Thank you,” the nun said and went into the next room. She was so weary, she didn’t even think to ask who I was or if I was qualified to look after children. The orphans, however, weren’t so shy about vetting me.

  “Who are you?” the conscious little boy wheezed.

  “Where I’m from, they call me Mother Goose,” I said.

  “Do you have children?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “But I do have a pet gander who acts like a child—though don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get very upset.”

  “Geese don’t get upset,” the little girl said.

  “You’ve never met Lester,” I told her.

  “He has a name?” the boy asked.

  “Sure does, although he tells me every day he wants to change it to something more dignified.”

  “He can talk?” the girl asked.

  “Getting him to shut up is the trick,” I said.

  “But animals can’t talk,” the boy said.

  “Where I’m from, lots of animals talk,” I said. “They wear clothes, have jobs, and are respectable members of society. We have lots of things you don’t have in this world, because in my world there’s lots of magic.”

  “Magic?” the girl asked, as if she was afraid of it. “Do you work for the devil?”

  “Depends on who you ask,” I said. “But you have nothing to worry about. I work for the Fairy Godmother. She’s a wonderful woman who sent me here to help you.”

  The orphans began to cough and looked at each other sadly.

  “You can’t help us,” the boy said. “No one can. Soon the Lord will take us to be with our parents.”

  I didn’t know what to say to him. Who would?

  “I may not be able to help your bodies, but maybe I can put your minds at ease,” I said. “Would you like to hear a story?”

  The orphans just looked at me. They didn’t say no, so I figured this was my chance. I had no idea which story I was going to tell them. What could I possibly tell them to make them feel better? I anxiously took another swig from my flask and began telling them the first tale that came to mind.

  “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty back together again,” I said and hiccupped.

  “Why are you rhyming?” the girl asked.

  “Oh no, was I rhyming?” I asked—I hadn’t even noticed. “You’ll have to forgive me. I tend to rhyme when I’ve had too much to drink. It’s a nasty trait I get from my father—it runs in the family.”

  “I like it,” the boy said and smiled, probably for the first time in a long while. “My parents used to tell me rhymes before they died.”

  They seemed like such sweet kids. I didn’t think there was anything I could say to comfort them.

  “You know, I was an orphan, too, once,” I said. “My dad was a warlock and my mom was a fairy. They had me very young, probably before they wanted to. They left me on the doorstep of the Fairy Palace and ran off to persue their dreams of becoming musicians. But their musical aspirations were crushed when a giant stepped on them.”

  “That’s rough,” the girl said.

  “It could have been worse,” I said. “The fairies raised me, but I was a bit of a troublemaker. I got passed around from home to home until I could take care of myself. I was always using my magic to play pranks and rig horse races.”

  It was the first time I had ever told anyone that story, and I had told it to the right audience. Both orphans were smiling at me.

  “I’m sorry you lost your parents,” the boy said.

  “Me too,” I said. “You’d think people with their heads in the clouds would have seen a big foot coming.”

  Wouldn’t you know it—I made them laugh! It was the most heartwarming sound I’ve ever heard. It reminded me that I had a heart, and judging from the warmth filling my chest, I must have had a big one.

  “Mother Goose?”

  I turned my head and saw that the other little boy was now wide-awake and sitting up in bed, as if their laughter had brought him back to life.

  “Will you tell us another story?” he said. “Rhymes make me happy.”

/>   After hearing this, I realized my tear ducts still worked after all. I took another big swig from my flask and told them another story.

  “Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep, and doesn’t know where to find them; leave them alone, and they’ll come home, wagging their tails behind them.”

  “We used to have a farm with sheep before the plague,” the girl said. “Please tell us another one.”

  “Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey; along came a spider, who sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away.”

  “A spider?” the boys laughed together. “Please don’t stop!”

  “Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.”

  I spent the rest of the night telling them rhymes about the ridiculous people from my world. I had sobered up entirely but kept a loose facade to keep them happy. They had me repeat their favorites, and then we recited them together. The orphans added tunes to the poems and we sang them to one another until they began to fall asleep.

  “Mother Goose, will you be here in the morning?” the girl asked.

  “You betcha,” I said. “Now you kiddos get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll rhyme more in the morning.”

  I sat with them until the sun rose, but the orphans never woke up. Just like the boy said, the Lord took them to be with their parents. When she was done resting, the nun came into the room, said a prayer for their souls, and covered their bodies with their bed sheets.

  Naturally, a part of me was devastated. But knowing I managed to supply those kids with a little happiness in their final moments was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, and perhaps the single greatest act I’ve ever done. For the first time, I truly understood why the Fairy Godmother was so passionate about helping people. There’s nothing like restoring the light in someone’s eyes and helping them forget their pain, even if it’s just for a moment. It’s magic at its finest.