by Becket
The Factory was amazing! It invented all sorts of marvelous machines, like the Tickletron (“for those in need of a good tickle,” the sales-skeletons said), and the Stuckle Stilts (“for those who need to be a little taller”), and the Frecklenator, (“for those who want freckles removed from their face”), and even the Excuse-a-tron (“for those who need a lot of excuses fast”). One day everyone in town discovered the cleverness of little Robert Bottle. And in the end he was invited to run the whole factory by none other than the owner, Mr. Warrick Widget.
Meredith’s eyes read faster and faster the nearer she came to the end of the book.
Meanwhile, Tedric the father mouse was being comforted by his caring mouse wife, Strawberry, as their two children threw little snowballs up at Peter Butterpig, who was hovering over the mouse house, flapping his wings steadily to keep away the falling snow.
This was the same mouse family who’d had tea with the two trolls, Tuk and Muk, in the book Teatime With Two Terribly Entertaining Trolls. “Awfully strange fellows,” Tedric the father mouse often said. “They were always trying to figure out if there was something more to life than just grunting and fighting.”
At present, Strawberry the mother mouse went to the kitchen and returned a minute later with six thimbles full of hot cocoa. She handed a thimble to everyone.
Meredith swallowed it in one gulp. She was thinking of nothing else but the book she was reading. She liked it very much and she was eager to get to the end. She just knew the book had to be magical.
She turned page after page after page, reading word after word, devouring it as if she were starving for words that would fill her with good thoughts.
Finally, she came to the last page. Without even looking at them, her eyes could see the shape of the final words. She could tell what they said and she knew they were not the words she wanted to read. Her heart sank a little as her eyes slowly, regretfully read those final words, which were not THE END, or even THE BEGINNING. They were not like the last words in the other magic books. No, what these last words actually said was TO BE CONTINUED…
As soon as little Meredith Pocket read these words the book leaped out of her hands and began floating in the air before her.
“Dear reader, my name is Mr. Fuddlebee. You have indeed found a magic book. Unfortunately, this is not the fourth and final magic book to fill the fourth and final position at the Magic Library. However, I hope you enjoyed this adventure and I encourage you to read on. A little magic lives in every story.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Megan Taradiddle
The next day the whole town was practically turned upside down in search of the last magic book. More books were being read in those few hours than had been in the last several years. People who had never read books were now reading them one after another. Grownups were reading books for children and realizing just how magical those books could be, though not the magic one they were looking for. And children were reading books for grownups, and finding them a little magical too, because they had long peculiar words like collywobbles and cattywampus and bumfuzzle—which are real words, if you can believe it.
Finally, a girl by the name of Megan Taradiddle told everyone that she had found the final magic book.
A large crowd gathered around her house. They all wanted to see this impressive girl. Meredith barely got close enough to see the book in the girl’s hand.
Megan Taradiddle was standing on a chair, raising herself up on her tiptoes and waving the book around to show everyone.
The crowd was wild with excitement when they saw it. They all took photos of Megan with her book, and in seconds flat her image had circled around the globe. Soon the president wanted to speak with her, and so did the queen and the prime minister. But Megan did not have time to take their calls because she was too busy getting her photo taken and telling people about herself, how she found the book, and then more about herself.
“My favorite color is pink, and my favorite subjects in school are everything except history, math, science, social studies, vocabulary, languages, art, computers, and anything that has to do with studying. But I have lots of talent at throwing things, chewing gum, riding my bicycle up and down the street, and licking the bowl when my mom is done mixing a cake. You should also know that I am—”
A reporter stopped her. “Tell us the book’s title?”
Megan Taradiddle’s eyes went wide with a nervous look.
“Title?” she said through a large gulp.
Very slowly, she looked at the cover. It took a moment before she said anything, and when she finally did, her voice was trembling.
“The book is called… Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
The crowd went mad. They loved the title.
Meredith loved this book too. She remembered her dad reading it to her at night before bed. She made him read it again and again. She adored the chapters with the Duchess, and the Mad Hatter, and playing croquet with hedgehogs and flamingos.
But before she could think about it anymore, someone else from the crowd called out to Megan Taradiddle.
“Tell us what the story is about.”
“Yes, tell us,” another person shouted.
“The book is about,” Megan Taradiddle said slowly, “a girl named Alice… who goes on an adventure… in a place called Wonderland… the end.”
The crowd went absolutely bananas when they heard this.
Meredith began to doubt that Megan Taradiddle had actually read the story. None of the other books said “The End” at the end. And she began to wonder if this might not be the end after all.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mr. Fuddlebee the Ghost
Later that night, Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot knew they should shut down to save power, but they just couldn’t. They were like young bots all over again, talking about what they could remember of the old days in the Magic Library and wondering what the new days to come might be like. Their circuits were snapping like new. Their memory banks were recalling more and more old data. Even their gears were squeaking a little softer than before.
Peter Butterpig did not say much. He sat beside little Meredith Pocket, who was quieter than usual, lost in thought. Together they watched the fire and listened to the happiness in the beeps and clicks of the two old robots.
The next day was Halloween. But it did not have that usual Halloween feeling. The sky was gray. Snow was falling. And the thrill in the air was not for candy, but for books and magic dust.
Everyone in town gathered outside the Magic Library. They were stomping their feet and rubbing their hands together, trying to keep warm.
Meredith felt colder that morning than any other. She did not know exactly why. It felt like the end of something wonderful in her life. And she did not like endings.
The large padlock was still on the chains sealing shut the front doors. Nothing was moving in the windows.
Everyone was waiting eagerly for something to happen.
But nothing did.
Several townsfolk doubted that the library would reopen after all. They said this had to be some sort of cruel joke. And they questioned whether there would be new librarians after all.
Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot did not listen to them. The two old robots were dressed a little fancier that day, wearing their best hats, scarves, and jackets, even though their clothes were threadbare with holes and patches. But they did not care. With hopeful expressions they gazed into the lights in each other’s eyes and giggled gleefully.
Peter Butterpig was beside Meredith. He peered up into her face.
She was trying to be happy for her friends. But this also seemed like a goodbye. She had a small fear that they would get too busy with working in the Magic Library. She might never see them again.
A few more minutes of waiting went by.
A few townsfolk grumbled about the cold and started to go home.
But right before the whole crowd departed, an elderly ghost came flo
ating out through the library’s front doors.
This elderly ghost had a kind old face with a mustache and goatee. He wore fancy shoes, a pinstriped suit, and a bowler hat with goggles around the rim. Pinned to his lapel was a dandelion and in his hand was a red and black umbrella. He also glowed with a magically green light and he was as see-through as a green bottle.
“Good morning, friends and fiends,” he said to the crowd in a gentle yet gravelly voice. “My name is Mr. Fuddlebee.”
Uncle Glitch leaned down to Meredith and whispered, “That’s him! That’s the ghost we saw go into the library all those years ago.”
Sir Copperpot leaned down too. “Yes, he is the one who never came back out. Fuddlebee. I cannot believe my memory banks could forget a name like that. What a jolly fun name!”
Peter Butterpig snorted.
“That’s a good question,” Meredith replied to him as she stood a little higher on her tiptoes to get a better look at the ghost. “I also want to know if he defeated the WORM.”
Mr. Fuddlebee drifted to the edge of the steps and floated a little higher.
“I believe four of you in the crowd have found the four magic books required to unlock the Magic Library,” he continued speaking. “This is delightful news. Would you please come forward?”
Sir Copperpot and Uncle Glitch went up the steps slowly, holding their books. Their parts were rattling. Nervous programs were running wild through their systems.
Peter Butterpig took his book in his snout, flapped his bright butterfly wings, and flew up to the elderly ghost, who tipped his bowler hat at him.
Last of all came Megan Taradiddle with her book in hand.
Meredith loved her friends very much, but she was starting to cry. Now she knew for certain that she would never see them again. And as they went up the steps, she said softly to them, “Goodbye, my old friends. I hope to see you again one day.”
Then with very quiet steps so that no one would notice her, she backed away and disappeared into the crowd, just as the four finders presented their magic books to the elderly ghost.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Fourth Magic Book
Little Meredith Pocket walked alone through the town. She heard the noise of the crowd growing quieter and quieter until they were so soft in the distance that they sounded like autumn leaves rustling.
She did not go back to her box on the street. Instead she went to her favorite place where she often sat alone and thought in silence.
It was a spooky old house shaped like a witch’s hat.
A witch used to live there, but she was driven out when the mayor’s dog broke into her yard, ate up all her cabbages, and was never heard from again.
No one had lived in that spooky old house since.
Inside was dark and it smelled like mushrooms. The furniture was draped in white sheets, giving them the look of Halloween ghosts.
Meredith took the sheet off a large chair and flopped down on it. Common dust plumed around her; there was no magic in it at all. There was no magic in the house anymore either. Silence surrounded her.
From far away she heard the crowd cheer once.
“That must be for Uncle Glitch,” she said.
She heard the crowd cheer again.
“That must be for Sir Copperpot,” she said.
She heard the crowd cheer a third time.
“That must be for Peter,” she said just as a large tear rolled into her eye.
But she did not hear the crowd cheer a fourth time because she had sat on something uncomfortable and got distracted.
She reached down and pulled out from under her…
A book.
It was small with a simple cover. For a moment the cover was blank. But when she looked at it again, a title appeared as if by magic. It said Little Meredith Pocket.
She could hardly believe her eyes. She stared at it in wonder. The book could not be about her… could it?
Slowly, cautiously, she opened to the first page and began reading.
The story was about a little girl who lost her parents—just like Meredith had. The little girl in the story had to live on the street—just like Meredith too. And the little girl in the story also had three friends; two were old robots called Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot, and the last friend was a pig with large butterfly wings called Peter Butterpig.
Meredith gasped.
“This is impossible.”
Yet she read on.
The little girl in the story lived in a town that had a Magic Library. It had been locked closed since her earliest memories. But it would one day open again when four people found four magic books. The two old robots and the butterpig found the first three. And another little girl claimed to have found the fourth but…
Meredith stood up.
“This can’t be…”
She held the book closer to her eyes, to make sure she was reading every word correctly. And aloud she read the following passage:
This other girl was lying about her book. She had a magic book, but she had not read it, so its magic blew out like a candle, because there is no magic in unread books. The fourth magic book was not found until little Meredith Pocket found it and read it until it could be read no more.
Those were the last words… at least for another second or two.
Then…
All of a sudden…
Appearing magically across the page were the words she had been longing so desperately to read.
THE BEGINNING…
Meredith’s eyes widened. She had found the fourth magic book!
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEf
The Writography
Meredith ran to the Magic Library as fast as her legs could carry her. She held the book up all the way, waving it in the air triumphantly and shouting, “I’ve found it! I’ve found the last magic book!”
She ran through the crowd, pushing and shoving her way forward, and leaped up the library steps, two at a time.
She was completely winded by the time she got to the top. Bursting out from between her three friends, she went before the elderly ghost.
With her hands on her knees to catch her breath, panting out each word, she said, “I’ve… found… the… fourth… and… final… magic… book.”
“Have you now, my dear,” Mr. Fuddlebee the elderly ghost said to her in a kind tone. “We were just now coming to the realization that our friend Megan Taradiddle has been spinning a rather tangled yarn, as they used to say, giving us a little taradiddle herself. It so happens that she has not read the book in her hands after all.”
“How… did you… know?” asked Meredith, slowly catching her breath.
“You see,” Mr. Fuddlebee said, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is one of my favorite books. I confessed to her that my favorite character was the Mad Hatter and then I enquired which was her favorite character. I realized that she had not read the book at all when she said her favorite character was Judy Thump the Dancing Lobster. I told her most regretfully that she had not found the fourth magic book because she had not read it. There were indeed dancing lobsters in Alice’s story, but, alas, no one was named Judy Thump, although that is a rather fun name, if I do say so myself.”
Meredith was breathing easier now. She stood upright and showed the book to Mr. Fuddlebee.
“This is the fourth magic book,” she said.
As Megan Taradiddle snuck backward into the crowd, her cheeks cherry red with shame and embarrassment, Sir Copperpot and Uncle Glitch gathered around Meredith to see the new book, while Peter Butterpig hovered overhead, flapping his bright wings.
“That’s a writography,” said Uncle Glitch.
“I have not seen one of those in a long time,” said Sir Copperpot.
Peter Butterpig squealed a question.
Uncle Glitch answered him, explaining, “A writography tells the life story of whoever happens to be holding the book.”
“How can that be a magic book?” asked Meredith. “It doesn’t
have an end, at least not yet.”
The elderly ghost pointed his umbrella at her. A red light shone from the tip and it buzzed. Then he studied the handle, as though something very important was written on it.
After a moment of thought he told her, “The magic of a book is not always on the last page, but at its heart. You are the heart of the story of your life. And it would appear that there is much magic about you, enough magic to help us reopen the Magic Library.”
No one entirely understood what the elderly ghost had just said, and it did not matter. Yet one thing was certain: Uncle Glitch, Sir Copperpot, Peter Butterpig, and Meredith Pocket had found the four magic books. So all four of them would now become the Magic Library’s new librarians. It was indeed a day to celebrate.
Mr. Fuddlebee smiled merrily at them.
“All right,” he said, “I think it’s time the Magic Library had a grand reopening.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Reopening the Magic Library
The snow stopped falling for a moment. The gray clouds parted. The sun came out and shone down on the crowd gathered before the Magic Library, and a bright beam seemed to especially touch down over the five huddled close together before the front doors—Sir Copperpot, Uncle Glitch, Peter Butterpig, little Meredith Pocket, and Mr. Fuddlebee.
The elderly ghost turned the other four around to face the crowd. Then he floated a little higher and waved his red and black umbrella to get the crowd’s attention.
