by Shannon Hale
True Heroes
A Treasury of Modern-day Fairy Tales Written by Best-selling Authors
Jonathan Diaz
© 2015 Anything Can Be Project.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
True heroes : a treasury of modern-day fairy tales written by best-selling authors / edited by Jonathan Diaz ; with Shannon Hale, Brandon Mull, Ally Condie, Jennifer A. Nielsen ; photographs by Jonathan Diaz.
pages cm
Summary: Twenty-one bestselling authors have written short stories to accompany Jonathan Diaz’s fantastical photographs of children who are battling cancer.
ISBN 978–1–62972–103–3 (hardbound : alk. paper) 1. Children’s stories. 2. Adventure stories. 3. Short stories. [1. Heroes—Fiction. 2. Cancer—Fiction. 3. Short stories.] I. Hale, Shannon, author. II. Condie, Allyson Braithwaite, author. III. Nielsen, Jennifer A., author. IV. Mull, Brandon, 1974– author. V. Diaz, Jonathan, editor, photographer.
PZ5.H757 2015
[Fic]—dc23 2015012627
Printed in China 05/2015
R. R. Donnelley, Shenzhen, China
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Amelia Flamm
You changed my life completely. May you continue to sing, design, create, and inspire.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Lilly
Korbyn
Jacob
Cami
Annika
Marley
Jordan
Sarah
Carson
Caimbre
Sophia
Eli
Rae
Ellie
Tristan
Sada
Braelyn
Breann
William
JP
Ethan
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Thank you for your thoughtful purchase of this book. Because of you, we will be able to continue making dreams come true for beautiful kids facing the fight for their lives. You have given hope to a child who desperately needs it and for that I am truly thankful!
The Mission
The Anything Can Be project seeks to create lasting hope and raise awareness in the fight against pediatric cancer, one dream and one photograph at a time. I have been able to take the dreams of these cancer-fighting warriors and bring them to life through the power of photography. The photographs and the amazing stories that accompany them are meant to remind kids that they are full of power, strength, hope, and happiness.
To find out more about the Anything Can Be project, please visit our website at www.AnythingCanBeProject.com.
The Beginning
In late 2013, I realized I was not satisfied with where my photography career was headed. I was proud of my work, but I also felt like it was missing certain meaning and purpose. I wanted to create art that meant something, that gave people a sense of hope and inspiration.
I have always been fascinated by the power and poignancy of a child’s imagination. Children are not afraid to dream big; they believe anything is possible. They are innocent. With this innocence comes dreams and honest aspirations that, from the view of an outsider, might seem impossible. However, through the eyes of a child, such dreams are absolutely obtainable. I decided that I wanted to take this belief—this unadulterated hope in the future—and expand it through photography. I wanted to create art that could be used as a reminder to us all that dreaming big is good and that hope always exists.
Although all children’s dreams are important, I wanted to focus my work on kids who could truly benefit from an image depicting their dreams coming true. With the uncertainty that cancer brings to a child’s future, dreaming and holding on to hope becomes much more important. Dreams become more than just a passing goal; they become alternate worlds that can create an escape. Dreams become something to reach toward. Dreams create hope.
Children who fight cancer have become my ultimate inspiration—throughout this project, as well as in my life. Their cause has become mine, their hopes are now my hopes.
If you are interested in learning more about ways you and your family can be of service to children in need, please visit AnythingCanBeProject.com/serviceideas for links, information, and ideas.
The Book
I wanted to create a book filled with powerful images of kids who are not only fighting cancer but also overcoming it through their dreams. I wanted a book that could serve as a way to inspire other kids fighting similar battles no matter where they live. Kids everywhere could open the book and find similar stories to their own.
But I wanted the book to be more than photographs. To that end, the Anything Can Be team assembled an unprecedented group of best-selling authors who have written wonderfully imaginative short stories as companion pieces to the artwork in the book. We are so honored and lucky to have these incredibly talented individuals writing stories for this book. Their contributions are priceless and make this book that much more unique and powerful as a tool for hope and awareness.
This book has been a labor of love for me, my team, and many others. I cannot think of a greater privilege than to be a part of this project and of the lives of these amazing kids. I hope that as you look through this book and read the stories, your imagination will take flight and you too will believe . . . Anything Can Be.
Jonathan Diaz
Creator and Photographer of Anything Can Be
Lilly
(Ewing’s Sarcoma)
Meet Lilly! Lilly is the only known person to be born with Ewing’s sarcoma and survive. She had a zero percent chance of surviving, yet she did. She is literally one of a kind. Nobody has ever done what she has done. She has had to fight tooth and nail for her life, and at three years old, she completely embodies what it means to defy the odds. She is an absolute miracle in every sense of the word. Her strength is matched only by her mother’s. Lilly’s story is as much about her as it is about her mother, who has stood by her and fought with her every step of the way.
Lilly is an example of never giving up hope, despite the odds. She is living proof of how powerful hope truly is and that anything is possible—anything can be.
www.anythingcanbeproject.com/dream-blog/lillywarriorprincess
Lilly, Warrior Princess
Shannon Hale
Lilly was locked up in a tower.
The first day wasn’t so bad. She was too angry at herself for falling into her enemy’s trap to notice the time.
The second day the anger still warmed her. The third day that heat began to trickle away. But the fight in her didn’t.
She kicked the door again again again until sweat prickled her brow. She brushed her hand over her forehead and smooth scalp. The first thing her captors had done after shackling her in this room was shave off her hair. There were old stories, folktales of princesses locked in towers and their long hair granting them the power of escape.
It was utter nonsense, of course. As if her power was locked into her hair and could so easily be cut away. She laughed, alone there in the dark. Her power wasn’t in her hair. It boiled in her blood, baked into her bones, strengthened with every breath.
Time and time again, the goblin army had tried to kill Princess Lilly until at last they realized the truth: she could not be killed. The best they could do was trap her, keep her locked up and helpless. But if she couldn’t get out to help her peopl
e, then what was the use anyway?
She kicked the door again. It didn’t even shake. She couldn’t do this alone. She needed help. But how could anyone find her?
By the tenth day, a creepy crawling emptiness began to drip into her heart. She spent more and more time curled up on the floor, trying to sleep away the hopelessness. Her bones felt as cold as the stones.
On the eleventh night, she woke up with a start after a dream: she’d been old and wrinkled and still shackled in the same tower.
The world was as dark as mud. Like the dark, the hopelessness pressed in. She curled up tighter. How had she lost her will?
Lilly touched a stone. “Cursed. They cursed this place.”
She’d read the stories. She knew what happened to princesses trapped in cursed towers. Eventually the hopelessness laid them down so low they slept forever, never waking again.
Her eyelids felt as heavy as the stones. She began again to dream. Withered hands, brittle bones, her body just lying there like a fallen tree . . .
“No!” she said, sitting upright. “I won’t sleep!”
She cast her mind around for something powerful, some old magic she could cling to. Her mind and body were so weakened by the curse she could barely think. But a hum started on her lips. The song her mother used to sing to her when she was just a baby. A song sung every day until it had coated her bones and entwined with her muscles. A song so powerful only a mother could sing it.
Lilly hummed. She whispered. And soon she had the strength to sing.
As long as she sang, she was awake, the curse held at bay. So she sang for days. Her voice was hoarse. Her lips were dry. Still she sang. She just had to hang on until—
“Lilly!” a voice called from outside the tower walls.
“Yes! I’m here!” Lilly shouted back. “I’m in here!”
“Lilly! Hold on!”
The tower shook. Lilly fell, her knees bruising against the stones. The tower tipped. She covered her head with her hands. Everything crashed to the ground.
The wind was knocked out of her lungs. She coughed and gasped. Sunlight hit her like spears.
Strong hands lifted away the stones. And then they picked her up.
“Mother!”
Her mother carried her away from the tower. She sat in the grass and held her, rocked her, cried and kissed and even sang.
Lilly drank water from her mother’s flask. She ate. And then she stood.
“You’re exhausted,” said her mother. “Rest first.”
“No time,” she said. “I can feel the ground shaking. The goblin hordes are on the move.”
Her mother opened her mouth as if to protest, but shut it again and nodded. She, too, could feel the ground shake. She went to her horse—a tall, black stallion—and pulled items from the saddlebags.
“I’ve kept it ready,” her mother said.
Lily’s armor. She strapped on the well-worn leather jerkin, cap, and limb guards. They fit like a second skin, worn to a dark brown and smelling of sweet oil. She began to feel more herself.
The breastplate and helmet gleamed silver, like new money. Her mother helped attach the shoulder guards.
“I beat out the old dents,” she said, “and shined it up a bit.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Her mother tied the breastplate in back and secured the helmet over her cap.
“I’ll ride beside you,” said her mother.
“I know you will.” Lilly took her hand. “I’m not afraid.”
“No, you’re not,” she agreed. “But they should be.”
She looked around. Her mother had brought two horses, but neither of them was Arrow. The tower had stood on a hill high above the moors. The wind whipped from the east, tangy with marsh grass and a hint of brine.
“Arrow!” she shouted. “Arrow!”
“Lilly,” her mother said, “didn’t you know? Arrow was . . .” She couldn’t seem able to say it. “We’ve looked everywhere, but when the enemy kidnapped you, they took Arrow, too—”
Still Lilly cried out, “Arrow!”
“I brought another horse for you,” said her mother. “I know it’s not the same, but—”
“She’ll come,” said Lilly. “I know she’ll come.”
The princess climbed atop a boulder, faced the wind, and shouted with all her might, “Arrow!”
A whinny. The clatter of hooves. A streak of white. Lilly hallooed with joy just as Arrow galloped by. Lilly leaped off the boulder, landing on Arrow’s back. She threw her arms around the mare’s neck, hugging her as they cantered together. When the horse slowed, Lilly slipped onto the ground, her arms still around the horse’s neck.
“Good girl,” she whispered into her mane. “Good, good girl. How did you ever get away from them, you clever pony?”
Arrow nickered and nuzzled Lilly’s neck.
Lilly laughed. “That tickles!”
Arrow’s nicker sounded almost like a laugh.
“We should go,” said Lilly’s mother. “The goblins . . .”
Arrow’s nostrils flared as if she could smell the vile creatures on the wind. Arrow wore no saddle or bridle, but Lilly swung herself up onto her bare back, directing the horse with shifts in her seat, nudges of her knees and ankles.
They rode hard for hours. It had been days since Lilly slept. When she nodded off now, Arrow and the wind keeping her from falling.
At last they crested a hill and found the battle. Before the city walls stood her people, armed and fierce, fighting the goblin hordes. But for every one of her people there were five goblins, riding creatures with many limbs and yellow skin. They cackled and tossed smoke bombs and moved closer, ever closer, to the city.
“We’re not too late,” said her mother. “Thank the stars, we’re not too late!”
Lilly pulled her sword from its scabbard. She raised it high, the sunlight flashing off its silver face. A hum almost too high to hear shot out from the blade. The battle paused. All eyes looked up.
“To me!” Lilly shouted, her voice echoing against the mountainside. “To your princess!”
There was a roar. Her people raised their spears and swords, clanged their shields, shouted her name. So loud was the clamor the very rocks in the mountain shook, the battlefield quaked.
The eyes of the enemy widened, large and white and, for the first time in many a year, showing real fear.
Princess Lilly charged.
Shannon Hale
Shannon Hale is a New York Times best-selling author of fifteen children’s and young adult novels, including the popular Ever After High trilogy and multiple award winners The Goose Girl, Book of a Thousand Days, and Newbery Honor recipient Princess Academy. She also penned three books for adults, beginning with Austenland, which is now a major motion picture starring Keri Russell. She cowrote the hit graphic novels Rapunzel’s Revenge and Calamity Jack and illustrated chapter book The Princess in Black with husband Dean Hale. They live with their four small children near Salt Lake City, Utah.
http://www.squeetus.com
Rae
“Give yourself permission to dream.” —Randy Pausch
Korbyn
(Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia)
Meet Korbyn! Korbyn’s dream is to be a firefighter because he wants to help people, just like so many have helped him. He has a kind and giving heart. For his photo shoot we were able to visit a local firehouse. Korbyn was able a take a ride in a big fire engine, practice his firefighting skills, and was made an honorary fireman. See more from Korbyn’s photo shoot with the QR code!
www.kutv.com/news/features/local-news/stories/Utah-firefighters-make-dream-come-true-for-boy-with-Leukemia-42656.shtml#.VNJdR1XF_Nu
A Fireman Always Helps
Tyler Whitesides
Fire Chief Korbyn pulled on the horn, his bright red truck letting out a thundering peal as he came to a stop in the neighborhood. Pushing open the door, he swung down from the fire engine and approached a young boy standing on the sidew
alk.
“You came!” cried the little boy. “Are you really here to help? I’ve got quite a problem.”
“A fireman always helps,” Korbyn said, adjusting his oversized helmet. His jacket hung loose around his small shoulders, dusted with a bit of soot from a previously extinguished fire. He glanced around the neighborhood, but there was no sign of smoke.
“What seems to be the problem?” Chief Korbyn asked.
The little boy on the sidewalk pointed toward a massive oak tree beside the house. “I was flying a kite,” said the boy. “The wind changed directions and my kite flew straight into that tree and got stuck.”
Chief Korbyn smiled. “Wait here,” he told the boy. “I’ll have your kite down in no time!”
Turning back to his bright red truck, Korbyn whistled sharply. Almost immediately, the black-spotted head of a large Dalmatian appeared through the truck’s open window. The dog seemed to grin at Korbyn, his tongue dangling as he panted in the hot summer afternoon.
“Spotto,” Korbyn said to his trusty dog. “We have a kite to save!”
Spotto, well practiced from their years together, knew exactly what to do. In a flash, the dog was sitting in the driver’s seat, his paws expertly manipulating the controls to the telescoping tower ladder.
Korbyn sprang into position on the small bucket platform at the end of the ladder. Shouting commands to Spotto, Chief Korbyn carefully rose higher toward the great oak tree.
The bright green kite was almost camouflaged by the leaves of the tree, but Korbyn’s sharp eyes noticed it immediately. The ladder came to a halt, and Korbyn reached out, easily plucking the stranded kite from its entanglement in the branches.
