An Author's Odyssey

by Chris Colfer

  “Oh my word,” Mrs. Peters said. “After all these years, I finally know it was real.… I can’t tell you how much time I’ve spent wondering if it was just a dream or a hallucination, but you’ve appeared just like she did… and in a dress just like hers.…”

  The twins couldn’t have been more confused.

  “What was real?” Conner asked.

  “Who are you talking about?” Alex pressed.

  “When I was a very little girl, I was sick in the hospital with pneumonia,” she said. “Late one night, while the nurses were busy with the other patients, a kind woman wearing a dress just like yours appeared in my room. She brushed my hair and read me stories through the night to make me feel better. I figured she must have been some sort of angel. When she left, I begged her to tell me who she was. The woman told me she was a Fairy Godmother and lived in the fairy-tale world.”

  The twins couldn’t believe their ears. They had known Mrs. Peters for years but never knew she had any knowledge of the fairy-tale world.

  “Whoa, small worlds,” Conner said.

  “That woman was our grandmother,” Alex said. “She and other fairies used to travel to this world and read fairy tales to children in need. Grandma said the stories always gave children hope.”

  Mrs. Peters had a seat on the desk and held a hand over her heart.

  “Well, she was right,” she said. “Once I was healthy, I devoured fairy tales for the rest of my childhood. I even became a teacher so I could share the same stories with others.”

  “No way!” Conner said. “That’s why you made us do those reports on fairy tales when we were your students! This is meta!”

  “Conner, I hate when you use that word,” Alex said.

  “I agree with Mr. Bailey—this is meta!” Mrs. Peters laughed. “Words can’t describe how grateful I am to finally know the truth. All this time, you weren’t living in another state; you were living with your grandmother in the fairy-tale dimension! That explains your abrupt transfers, why your mother was so vague about the details—and I’m assuming it has something to do with Mr. Bailey’s abandonment of the school’s European trip.”

  “Guilty,” Conner said sheepishly. “I’m not a delinquent after all!”

  “And your grandmother, is she still around?” Mrs. Peters asked.

  She seemed so happy, the twins didn’t want to break the news to her.

  “Actually, Grandma passed away a little more than a year ago,” Alex said.

  “Yeah, just after she slayed a dragon!” Conner bragged. “But that’s another long story that will only lead to longer stories—trust me, our future biographer is going to have his hands full—and right now we don’t have time to explain! We’re actually here for something really important.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Peters said.

  “Remember when you saved my short stories in a portfolio—for when I started applying to colleges? Do you know where those are?” he asked.

  “You don’t have your own copies?” Mrs. Peters asked.

  “No, they were handwritten,” Conner said. “It was painful enough writing the originals—my hand couldn’t take making copies.”

  “Mr. Bailey, if you’re going to be a writer, you need to learn to secure your work—”

  “Yeah, I’m learning that the hard way,” Conner said. “Look, something terrible has happened in the fairy-tale world, and we need my short stories to save it.”

  “I’m sure you have a million questions, but like Conner said, we’re really crunched for time,” Alex added. “If you know where they are, please point us in the right direction. A lot of people are depending on us.”

  From the tone of their voices and the urgency in their eyes, Mrs. Peters could tell they were very serious, so she didn’t question them further.

  “You’re in luck,” she said. “I have them with me.”

  Mrs. Peters retrieved her purse from under the desk and pulled a large binder out of it. She flipped through the binder, and the twins saw it was filled with hundreds of student essays, math tests, book reports, history exams, and artwork.

  “Today was my last day before retirement,” Mrs. Peters said. “I cleaned out my desk and I found this. It’s a collection I’ve kept over the years of the student work that made me the most proud to be an educator. Whenever I had a particularly rough day, I would take a look through this and be inspired all over again.”

  When she reached the end of the binder, Mrs. Peters unclipped it and handed Conner a stack of papers with messy handwriting.

  “Here are your short stories, Mr. Bailey,” she said.

  The twins sighed with relief. After a long search, they had finally found them! Conner tried taking them out of Mrs. Peters’s hand, but she tightened her grip.

  “I’ll only give you these if you make me a promise,” she said.

  “He’ll do whatever you want!” Alex said desperately.

  Conner nodded. “Yeah, what she said!”

  Mrs. Peters looked straight into his eyes. “When this troubling chapter of your lives comes to an end, promise me you’ll go back to school and continue writing,” she said.

  Conner was expecting something much worse than that. “Okay, I promise,” he said.

  “Good,” she said. “The world needs writers like you to inspire them, Mr. Bailey. Don’t take your talent for granted, and don’t let it go to waste.”

  Mrs. Peters released her grip on the papers, and Conner’s short stories were finally in his possession. Alex was thankful it had been an easy exchange—she had been prepared to hex Mrs. Peters with a paralyzing spell if she needed to.

  “I’m happy I made your binder,” Conner said.

  “I never thought I’d say this, Mr. Bailey, but you are the closest thing to a favorite student I’ll ever have,” she confessed.

  “Me?” Conner said. “But… but… why?”

  “Yeah, why?” Alex said before she could stop herself.

  “With all due respect, Miss Bailey, when I’m old and my memory fades I won’t remember the students who got the best grades or had the best attendance,” Mrs. Peters said. “I’ll remember the ones who progressed the most, and your brother has come a long way from taking naps in my class.”

  “I don’t think I progressed any more than anyone else did,” Conner said with a shrug.

  “That’s because no one has the privilege of looking at themselves through someone else’s eyes,” Mrs. Peters said. “I watched you struggle after your father died—but you didn’t let yourself struggle for long. Rather than wallowing in grief, you developed a strong sense of humor. Soon I was constantly condemning your clown antics in class. The following year, when I became principal, I had a feeling there was a remarkable imagination behind that wit. I had your teacher send me samples of your creative writing and my suspicion was right. You chose to grow from tragedy—and it takes a very strong person to do that.”

  Alex smiled proudly at her brother. Conner’s whole face turned bright red—he was as good at taking compliments as Mrs. Peters was.

  “Aw shucks,” he said. “I guess I’m more sophisticated than I thought.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Mrs. Peters said. “I learned a lot about you from your writing, possibly more than you intended to share. Perhaps as you look through your stories again, you’ll learn a thing or two about yourself.”

  This made Conner a little nervous—how much of himself had he exposed? When he wrote, Conner only worried about telling a good story; he never thought about the fingerprints he left between the lines. He suddenly felt like he was in the shower and had forgotten to lock the bathroom door.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Peters,” Conner said. “For what it’s worth, you’ve always been my favorite, too. I never would have liked writing if it weren’t for you.”

  Mrs. Peters was so happy she had stumbled upon the Bailey twins tonight. Knowing she helped shape the twins into the wonderful and responsible young adults they’d become was the greatest retirement gif
t she could have received. She put the binder back into her purse and then glanced up at the clock. It was disheartening to see that the new teacher had obnoxiously decorated the clock to look like the sun.

  “I can’t believe it’s past midnight,” Mrs. Peters said. “I’m absolutely exhausted. If you’ll both excuse me, I think I’ll head—”

  With another gust of wind and a flash of light, the Bailey twins disappeared into thin air. It made Mrs. Peters laugh because their quick exit confirmed something she believed with her whole heart.

  “Students,” she said. “They come and go so quickly.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE MASKED EMPIRE

  The air was filled with so much smoke, you could barely see the sky. Every time it was cleared by a strong wind, it was quickly replenished from another pillaged town or forest fire. During the day, the sun looked like a weak lantern shining through a brown sheet. At night, seeing a star had become as rare as spotting a shooting star.

  The fairy-tale world had faced many troubling times in recent years, but never anything like this. It was the first time in history that happily ever after seemed impossible to regain.

  Over the course of one night, the Wicked Witch of the West’s Winkie army attacked the Charming Kingdom and the Troblin Territory. Her flying monkeys were sent to terrorize the Elf Empire and the Corner Kingdom. The Queen of Hearts marched her card soldiers through the Center Kingdom and then wreaked havoc on the Eastern Kingdom. Captain Hook’s band of pirates poisoned the waters of Mermaid Bay, sending the mermaids fleeing deeper into the ocean. Captain Hook’s flying ship, the Jolly Roger, attacked the Fairy Kingdom, leaving the palace in pieces. Then the captain took the Northern Kingdom by storm.

  The soldiers and villagers of every kingdom, who had once banded together to fight off the Grande Armée, were no match for these invaders. Their homes and towns were pillaged and burned to the ground. Their farms and stables were raided, and their livestock and horses were stolen.

  All the fairies were presumed dead or in hiding. The kings and queens had lost their thrones, and their homes lay in ruins. The forests were slowly burned one at a time, giving the animals and refugees fewer and fewer places to hide.

  The kingdoms and territories of yesterday ceased to exist. All the land in the fairy-tale world had been combined into one large empire ruled by the infamous Masked Man and his newly assembled Literary Army.

  The elf, troll, goblin, and human civilians from all over the fairy-tale world were rounded up and marched into the Northern Kingdom. They were pushed into Swan Lake, just beside the severely damaged Northern Palace. The lake had been dried out by the Literary Army, making it a deep, muddy crater, perfect to hold the civilians prisoner. By the time the lake was filled, the sun had started its descent in the western sky. The Literary soldiers pointed their captives’ attention to a large balcony of the palace.

  Doors opened and the Masked Man appeared. His entire head was covered in a mask made of rubies and jewels with only two slits for his eyes. His raggedy clothes had been upgraded to a well-tailored suit. He wore a long black cape with a collar that towered sinisterly over his head.

  The Masked Man finally looked like the menacing ruler he had always wanted to become.

  His entrance was met with a thunderous rumble of booing and hissing, which only escalated when the Queen of Hearts, the Wicked Witch of the West, and Captain Hook joined him on the balcony. The Masked Man held his hands out in front of him, embracing the noise as if it were applause.

  “Now, now, now,” he said. “Is that how you address your new emperor?”

  The title was not received well by his imprisoned audience. Many of the civilians had stashed food in their clothing before being forced from their homes, and rather than saving it, they threw it angrily at the Masked Man. The self-appointed emperor was pelted with tomatoes, plums, and heads of lettuce.

  The civilians roared with laughter. Even the Wicked Witch of the West cackled at the embarrassing scene. But the Masked Man wouldn’t let his first moments as emperor become a mockery.

  “SILENCE OR I’LL KILL YOU ALL!” the Masked Man yelled.

  The food throwing stopped, and a tense hush fell over the dried-up lake. He had already destroyed their villages and homes; there was no telling how far he’d go to gain respect. A winged monkey brought the Masked Man a rag, and he wiped the food off his clothing.

  “From this day forward you will no longer be the people of your pathetic kingdoms, but the property of this empire,” he announced. “Disrespect me again, and I will not show you the same mercy as your weak kings and fragile queens. Anyone who dares to cross me will not only lose their own lives, but will first watch as I take their families’ lives as well!”

  Children throughout the lake began to cry, and their parents held them tightly. It seemed the darkest days were still ahead.

  “I’ve brought you all here to witness the birth of a new era,” the Masked Man preached. “But before we achieve a new future, the ways of the past must be destroyed—and the leaders of the past are no exception!”

  The Masked Man gestured to a large wooden platform below the balcony, on the lawn between the palace and the dried lake. A very tall man in a long black cloak climbed to the top of the platform and placed a large wooden block in the center.

  A dozen flying monkeys pulled a wagon out from behind the palace. It carried all the former kings and queens of the fairy-tale world: Cinderella, King Chance, Sleeping Beauty, King Chase, Snow White, King Chandler, Trollbella, Empress Elvina, Rapunzel, Sir William, and even the young princesses Hope and Ash. All the royals had their hands tied together and were blindfolded and gagged with strips of white cloth.

  The tall man on the platform withdrew a large silver axe from inside his cloak. The civilians began screaming and shouting in horror once they realized the purpose of it—the Masked Man was going to have the royal families executed!

  Although they couldn’t see, the kings and queens knew what was happening by the sound of the terrified crowd. They fought against their restraints, but they didn’t budge. The civilians desperately tried to climb out of the dried lake to save their rulers, but they were kicked back into the mud. The card soldiers stood around the lake’s perimeter and locked arms, forming a wall to block them.

  The Masked Man laughed wildly at all the terror he was causing. Winkie soldiers pulled the royals out of the wagon and pushed them up the steps to the platform, then stood guard around it. The cloaked executioner sharpened his axe as he awaited his cue to begin.

  “Start with the men, then the women, then the children,” the Masked Man ordered. “Your Majesty, if you would please do the honors…”

  The Queen of Hearts stepped to the edge of the balcony. With enlarged eyes and a devious grin, she looked down at the distressed royals like they were a delicious snack.

  “OOOOFFFF WITH THEIR HEEEEEAAAAADS!” she roared.

  The lake erupted in protest. The women cried desperate pleas for the execution to stop; the men yelled profanities at the Masked Man for being so cruel. The frightened royal families huddled together in a corner of the platform and trembled.

  The executioner selected King Chance to be his first kill. He grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the block. Cinderella and Hope screamed through their gags when they realized he was no longer standing beside them.

  The executioner forced Chance into a kneeling position and placed his head on the wooden block. He held the axe above the king’s neck and practiced swinging. With each swing, the civilians gasped, fearing it was the fatal blow. Finally, the executioner raised his axe higher into the air than he had raised it before. The pleas and screams from the helpless bystanders multiplied; the royals knew it was only a matter of seconds before the king lost his head.

  The executioner brought the axe down—but as he did, he spun his body so it sliced the platform floor instead of the king’s neck. Suddenly, the floor caved in, causing the executioner and all the royals
to fall through the platform and disappear from sight. It was so unexpected, the panicked crowd went silent—this couldn’t have been part of the plan.

  “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” the Masked Man screamed from the balcony. “GET THEM OUT OF THERE!”

  Just as the Winkie soldiers went to inspect the platform, three large horses burst out from inside it! Porridge, Buckle, and Oats had been under the platform the entire time. They were pulling a carriage with the executioner and all the royals safely aboard. The platform had been a large trapdoor!

  “NOOOO!” the Masked Man screamed, and leaned over the balcony as far as he could to get a better look.

  To his horror, he saw Goldilocks on Porridge and Jack on Buckle! The couple steered the horses and the carriage into the forest beyond the palace, knocking over dozens of Winkie soldiers as they went. The execution had turned into a rescue mission right before the Masked Man’s eyes!

  Goldilocks glanced back at the rescued royals. “Is everyone all right?”

  The royals moaned through their gags. Still blindfolded, they had no clue what was going on. The executioner threw off his cloak—it had been the Tin Woodman all along!

  “Don’t fret, Your Majesties!” he said. “This is a rescue!”

  The Tin Woodman sliced off the royals’ restraints with his axe.

  “We’re not out of it yet!” Jack said. “Everyone stay low! This is going to be a bumpy ride!”

  Meanwhile, the elf, troll, goblin, and human civilians embraced one another and cheered as their leaders got away. The Masked Man was so furious, he was practically breathing fire. The visible skin around his eyes turned so red, it matched the rubies in his mask.

  “AFTER THEM! ALL OF YOU!” he ordered the Literary Army. “DON’T LET THEM ESCAPE!”

  The rescue party was chased through the forest by droves of Winkies and card soldiers on horseback. The fleet of flying monkeys followed them from the smoky sky. As the royals removed their blindfolds and looked around, an escape didn’t seem likely—there was no way their carriage stood a chance against the approaching Literary soldiers. Luckily, Jack and Goldilocks had friends with a few tricks up their sleeves.