Chapter 4 Of The Great Wish Movie Rewrite Is Up On AO3

Over the Garden Wall Novelization Chpt 1

(A very rough draft of a novel I might finish later for Ao3, depending on people's interest. I was thinking about the day I also almost got hit by a train and the police thought we died).

Chapter One: Into the Frog Pond

When Wirt had told his younger brother that he was too busy to look for frogs, that didn't mean he'd wanted Greg to get run over by a train. 

He also hadn't meant that he'd wanted to get hit by the train himself. Who would have expected they'd both have to dive off the tracks just in time for the big black blur to rumble over them, and that they'd be plunged into the river's icy October waters to drown?

That was the kind of thing that happened whenever you had to babysit Greg. 

It all started on Halloween when Wirt had to take him trick or treating.

Greg was a short, fat five-year-old, currently wearing an upside-down teapot on his head. "I'm an elephant," he said, spinning around. "The spout is the trunk!"

Never in a million years would Wirt have understood this, if his brother hadn't pointed it out. But he couldn't say much, since his own costume was just as bad. He held onto the tall red dunce cap meant to be a wizard hat that kept blowing off in the wind—it's a lesson we all must learn that Halloween costumes never cooperate as well as we hope.

The sound of crunching leaves grew louder underfoot as they approached the graveyard gate: a few rusted iron bars with spikes. Beyond it, the gravestones were pale shapes in the dark. Somewhere in the distance, a frog croaked, a low, drawn-out sound echoing off the stones.

"Come on!" said Greg, pushing the gate open. "Me and Dad saw a big one in the duck pond."

"Okay," Wirt said. "I just don't want to get my costume wet." He brushed off some mud and pulled his blue cape tighter as they crept inside.

Kerrrrok, kerrrrok, kerrrok

"I think it's the giant bullfrog," said Greg. "Me and Dad see him whenever we go fishing." 

Greg jumped over flat graves as if they were no more than hopscotch squares.

Wirt stood still, watching his breath mingle with the mist before following. "Careful, don't slip," he said. "After all… we all croak in the dark."

"Maybe you should just hop to it!" Greg scolded, waving him over.

Kerrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrrok

"Shh! I think I hear the frog... over there!" Greg froze.

Wirt's eyes followed Greg's pointing finger to the edge of the graveyard. A rickety fence in the distance barely kept overgrown grass from spilling out of the railroad enclosure beyond.

They approached the thin chain-linked gate, the likes of which might be found in a backyard and easily jumped. The only thing that signified danger was the fact that on the other side there was a steep incline crowded with bramble and thorns—unkempt in faith they'd do what the half-hearted gate could not. 

And yet, if one looked hard enough, there were some clear paths up the slope writhing between the bushes—perfectly good for reaching the top should the desire burn deeply enough in their heart.

Greg was already putting one foot in front of the other, as Wirt slowly slung his own legs over.

Kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrok, kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrok

The frog's cries were desperate now, seeming to say "Catch me! Hurry! What's taking so long?"

The scratchy ascent would have been a hard enough wrestling match without a cape, but somehow Wirt made it through. Greg reached the top first with burrs stuck to his overalls, and was skipping back and forth over the rails.

"Hey, I've never got to walk on a train track before," he said, putting his hands on his hips and doing a twirl.

Wirt had never been on one either. Unfortunately it was getting really dark now, so it was hard to appreciate the fine details of craftsmanship. Under moonlight, the most that could be observed were the two steel rails stretching like sinews, the sleepers spaced with precision, and if he squinted, a few fish bolts coming loose.

A dark speck appeared in the distance.

When Wirt looked back on the incident years later, he could never remember the train making a sound until it was right in front of them.

"Trains are dangerous," adults always said. "Even if you think they're far away, they can appear in the blink of an eye. Even if you're not standing close to them, the pressure can suck you under. You'll instantly be killed."

Well, after that night, Wirt could safely say which of these things were and weren't true. The train took its time coming—too much time, if he was honest. He and Greg sat indian-style on the track watching it calmly for a minute, not fully convinced the shape really was a train because of how slow it was going.

There was no sound for a long time, and when the lights and rushing noise finally grew, there was plenty of time to dive away. No, it was only because Wirt's cape got caught on one of the fish bolts that he was jerked back into the wood chips.

Even then, nobody got sucked under. In fact, Wirt rolled the opposite way when he finally tore himself free.

And Greg… Well…

"GREG!"

CRRRRAAAAAASH-CLAAANG-TCHOOOM-SHRREEEEEEEECH-KLUNK-KLUNK-RUMBLE-RATTLE-CLACKA-CLACKA-CLACKA-VOOOOOM-KRASHHH-CHUGGA-CHUGGA-THRUMMMM-WOOOOOOOO-SPLAANG!

Coldness punched Wirt in the chest. 

A force pressed hard from every side, so his limbs were too heavy to move. He was yanked downward through blackness as his hands grasped empty water.

Wirt had fallen into the river after his brother. Now both of them were dying.

Greg. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not while he was babysitting. "GREEEEEEEEG!"

CLACKA-CLACKA-OOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Coldness. 

Blackness. 

Sinking. 

Fog enveloped everything.

~*~

The moment Wirt’s shoes hit the mud, he felt the ground give way beneath him. His arms shot out, grasping for anything to hold. 

The frog's croaking grew deafening, as if every amphibian in the pond had joined into a chant. 

"Wirt! It’s deeper than I thought!"

Wirt tried to speak, but his words were swallowed by water. Then the current stopped abruptly, and pushed him the other direction in a way that seemed conscious and purposeful for a river.

“Wirt, hold on!” 

Fingers brushed his arm as the frogs sang louder. Wirt clasped Greg's hand as his younger brother pulled him up. Wirt coughed and blinked the water from his eyes.

They were in a brown pond. The algae had torn into a jagged circle where they'd surfaced. Though it was still dark, the chill had died, being replaced with warmer air, as if it were late summer instead of mid fall.

Wirt shook himself off, and the water slid from his clothes easily, more like slime than liquid.

"A…are you okay…?" He stared at Greg, who was smiling and dancing knee-deep in the mud.

"Yeah! That was fun! I got my bullfrog, see?" He held the biggest, fattest frog Wirt had ever seen over his head, and stuffed it under his teapot.

Kerrok, it said sorrowfully, making Wirt's heart twinge a bit.

At first he wasn't sure why something about his brother looked off. Then he realized the implausibility of the teapot still being on his head after being swept downstream.

"Huh? Hey, did you realize—How do we still have our hats?" Wirt took his own from his head and held it out to examine. It hadn't been nearly so stable in the graveyard.

A sound cut through the air—a man's voice chanting:

O, we took a left when the map said right,

Now we're driftin' off where day is night.

The sign said "Destination," but I reckon it lied,

We're here in the void, where the stars've died.

There was a heavy crunch, like footsteps on brittle leaves. Wirt’s breath caught, and he turned to see a figure moving through the fog, a tall shape in a dark coat, carrying something long and heavy.

The compass points north, or was it west?

We might've failed, but we did our best.

We lost the plot when we took a fall,

Now it seems we're nowhere at all.

“Hello!” Greg called, waving. “Do you know the way back to the railroad we were trespassing on?”

"Shut up!" hissed Wirt, certain Greg was going to get them arrested.

The figure stopped. Wirt could see him more clearly now—a man, tall and broad, with a weathered face and eyes sunken deeply into their sockets. He carried an axe, the blade dark and stained. Most likely a Halloween costume, but wasn't it a little dangerous to be using a real axe if that was the case?

When the man raised a lantern to light his pale face, a chill returned to the air, but not due to the temperature. Wirt grabbed Greg’s shoulder and pulled him back.

The man’s bloodshot eyes settled on them, and his voice was a low rumble. “You two are lost.”

Wirt swallowed. “Yeah... We fell into the river, and now we’re... Well, we don’t know where we are. What city is this?"

The man just stared. Then he let out a dry laugh. “You two are more lost than you realize," he said. "Both are a bit young to be dead, I would think."

Wirt didn't know what to say to this, so he said nothing. He didn't know who this man was, but decided to wait for him to go away.

Greg, unfortunately, was too dumb to be shy. "Hey, are you gonna kill us with that axe? You look like a bad guy. Are you wearing a costume?"

"Greg!" Wirt kicked his ankle.

But the man didn't look offended. His expression was blank. Too blank. For a moment, it looked like he was broken.

"It's out of my hands to decide who lives and dies," he said finally. "Such are the whims of fate."

"Wirt, do you think that man has any candy for us?" Greg said loudly, as if the man wasn't standing right there. "Hey!" he turned and yelled. "TRICK OR TREAT!"

The man shook his head slowly. "There are no treats for you out here, boy. And I suggest you keep your voice down if you don't want to attract the beast." His eyes fell upon Wirt. "You should keep an eye on your brother. Goodnight to you." He turned to continue on his way. As he trudged off, Wirt saw a bundle of wood strapped to his back.

 AW-ROOH! AWWWW-ROOOOH!

Wirt and Greg both splashed backward at a howl that sounded all too near.

"It's the beast!" yelled Wirt. "We have to get out of here! Come on!"

He and Greg dashed out of the water. There was a slurping sound as Wirt's shoe was pulled off by quicksand. He didn't stop, keeping his pace the same as Greg's. Greg was at the age of being too heavy to carry, but slow enough that the best you could do was watch his back and pray he went fast enough.

"Quick! Over here!" said a voice.

Wirt and Greg turned through a grove to see a big broken-down house with a waterwheel looming before them. Hopefully inside would be safe. Safer, at least, then outside with a beast, at the bottom of a river, in the middle of a train track, or any of the other places they'd been that night.

The Lorax Novelization

Do you ever kinda wish something would exist, so you just decide to make it yourself?

Read here. I release new chapters every week.

Out of curiosity how long do you prefer fanfictions to be? Are you more likely to read something with just a few chapters or do you like a long quality story?

Thank you so much for saying this, it really makes me happy to know it was enjoyed!!!

Because the original had a lot of plot holes and wasn't satisfying.

What to expect:

1. Actually tells the Once-ler's whole story from beginning to end (no Ted)

2. Gives Once-ler more agency and develops his motives beyond "my family made me do it."

3. Includes "You're all going to jail!" scene

4. Animals die/the stakes are raised

5. Logical explanations for why they couldn't just plant more trees or use a ladder, why Once-ler didn't just plant the seed himself, etc.

6. The Lorax is actually significant

7. Characters like Once-ler's dad, Norma, and O'Hare are woven in, but don't steal the spotlight. (Example: Norma isn't an annoying girlfriend who steals the role of the Lorax).

8. NO ANNOYING OCS, MARY SUES, OR STUPID ROMANCES!!!!!!!!!! Just a straightforward, comprehensive narrative of what the movie should've been like.

This entire novel is complete and has been through multiple drafts. If you follow it, you can be sure that it does have an ending and the author knows where it's going with foreshadowing and extra plot twists. Chapters will be released each week.

Chapter 9 of The Great Wish Movie Rewrite is up on AO3!

Read it here! Link

Guys, only one more chapter to go after this one! It's been so much fun posting this rewrite! Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading! I can't wait to start the next movie rewrite soon!

In this chapter Magnifico gets sucked into his own black hole of misused magic, and goes through a change.

Excerpt: Magnifico was towed downward by the black hole’s current, the edges of his robes unraveling into threads. He felt himself stretching, as if time itself was taking him apart, strand by strand. Space had swapped places with time, and hurled him toward the void’s inevitable singularity. His head and feet pulled in opposite directions as intense gravity stretched him unthinkably thin. 

As his torso elongated, his legs did not immediately catch up, and the pressure on his head intensified. His arms and legs became uselessly long threads. Horrifically, the magic in his blood denied him death until he became a smeared streak, when his soul was finally released, then he floated out of himself.

Magnifico, now immaterial, continued his descent, then, below, in the blackness from which no light could escape, he began to see dozens of embers. It turns out some light survives after passing through the event horizon’s boundary. As Magnifico sank deeper, time crawled slower and slower, and the lights, getting closer, grew brighter, revealing themselves to be dimming stars. Not alive like the one he’d met, but cold, colourless orbs.

Gravity no longer affected him, so Magnifico floated leisurely through their midst.

The stars’ surfaces were webbed with cracks that spilled streams of gold like blood. Some flickered weakly, while others were grey and lightless, perhaps dead, but they were all doomed to spin round together in the current. One floated through Magnifico, its edges curled inward as if it were devouring itself. They clustered in groups, grazing each other, shedding shards of brilliance like falling snow, while a few floated alone, then disappeared into the blackness beyond. Magnifico watched one brighter star shrink away from him as if it knew he were there.

He watched the creeping shadows where the star vanished, that were creating patterns around him: an endless staircase led downward, each step dripping with despair as it dissolved into nothingness, then the shadows became piercing shards that hurled themselves at him, and stabbed through him, though they only passed through him like smoke. These burst into fragments like pieces of glass from his terrible mirrors, and Magnifico finally saw his own reflection in them. The eyes of his shadow self were empty and sunken, and he did not recognise himself.

The darkness closed in, and laughter rang out from each of his reflections, then Magnifico realised they were one and the same with him. At this understanding the dark magic's grip loosened a tiny bit, and he knew that to reclaim his sanity, he would have to confront these distortions of himself.

As he drifted further down, a shadow formed into the shape of a man.

“Is that. . .?” Now Magnifico knew he was dead. “I think I remember you.” The words he’d said to Asha earlier, during her interview echoed through his mind: “He was a philosopher, was he not? Had great magic running through his blood. Always warning people about the consequences of getting whatever your heart desires. . .”

It was him. Asha’s father, the renowned philosopher. The tall man with a short beard and an eyepatch over his right eye, whose hair still stuck straight up after being killed by lightning, spoke. “Remember when magic was the pursuit of knowledge, not a weapon of tyranny?”

Magnifico studied the philosopher, then he nearly laughed. “I should have known you would appear here to mock me. You always were popping up at the most inconvenient of times. But save your laughter. You speak falsely. Magic is not knowledge, it is power. That is all it has ever been.” He found communicating intuitive despite no longer having a body, and could not explain how.

Time became so slow it was as if they no longer moved at all, and Magnifico could not look away from the man.

“Is that all the philosophy you have gained in one and sixty years?” The philosopher’s gaze pierced him. “Or have you forgotten yourself in the midst of wielding power so mindlessly?”

Finish reading here: Link

Chapter 6 is up!!!

Once-ler tries to sell his product in town and meets the Lorax. Excerpt below (read full chapter on Ao3):

It was sticking out from a stump, covered in mossy brown fur. It was the size of a cat, but with the round bean-form of an animal Once-ler had never seen. Its most significant feature was the yellow mustache on its face that was so thick Once-ler had the urge to pick the creature up and turn him upside down to sweep a floor. It positively radiated power and adorableness both at the same time. It pulled itself up and looked him in the eye.

The foot of the creature tapped expectantly.

Once-ler straightened his grey business vest and hat. "Can I help you… sir?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, if I gave you a surprise." The creature didn't sound sorry at all. "But I think you earned the shock in your eyes. You're up to mischief, best confess. Your secret plot, your sneaky mess."

"What am I doing wrong? You mean trying to make a living? Why is everyone here so against that?" Once Once-ler started ranting, he found he couldn't stop. “At least I actually have some ingenuity. Why is that a bad thing? My family was like that too. Don't we need inventions and new ideas to keep the world going? How are people supposed to support themselves, huh? Just by working for the O'Hares, and that's it?"

"You have a point, it's true, I see. Your words hold weight, are error free. But mind your manners, and do beware, lest your sharp wit makes you an O'Hare."

Once-ler flushed. "Well, maybe you should all stop assuming that every stranger who tries something new around here is exactly like an O'Hare." He tipped his hat stiffly, and turned away.

"Hey, you're alright, don't you fret. A nice, amusing chap, I won't forget. Ambition burns, inspiring, bright, but heed my words, and do what's right. Two paths I see, a heavy choice. One leads to glory, a tempting voice. The other path is a conscience clear, but it all depends which way you steer."

"Amusing, huh? Well, I think you're annoying," Once-ler grumbled, and grabbed Melvin's leash.

The creature kept up with Once-ler's long legs at a surprisingly quick pace as it stroked its mustache. "The Lorax am I, my voice is always near. I've been watching this place, year after year. The trees and beasts, they're my sacred domain. The forest's my charge, and I'll watch over it again." It darted in front of him and stuck out its spindly hand.

Once-ler stared at the long curling fingers before hesitantly giving them a shake. "Once-ler."

"Once-ler, that's a name so odd. What could it mean, I'd love to prod. Is it a title, a moniker grand? Or a label that I can understand?"

"It means I never make a mistake more than once," said Once-ler. "Because my Ma said she wishes she hadn't.”

"And what was the woman's misstep I wonder, that gave her son such a name to ponder?"

(Full novelization on Ao3. We're going to make a bunch of high quality rewrites of movies that had too many plot holes).

Lorax Novelization Excerpt

Nobody ever really writes about Once-ler's life on the farm. I imagined he had to help support his family and fight for the chance to study by making a space in the barn or something. I think that would've been more relatable. Excerpt below.

Only one evening did Once-ler's Ma visit the barn out of curiosity to ask what he was doing.

"Wow," she said, when she saw what he'd done to the place.

It was practically an office now, with books stuffed into barrels and crates, one of the stalls made entirely into a library with shelves and a file cabinet. Blue prints and charts were taped to the walls and ceiling, with even more piles stacked around the floor. The big drafting table took up the wall facing the door, with magnificent designs pinned to the drawing board. In the corner Once-ler's well-loved guitar rested in a safe spot underneath the hayloft. This had been transformed into a comfortable out-of-the-way bedroom and changing area with a mattress, a neat basket of folded clothes and a curtain.

"Wow, you really have it good, Oncie," she told him. "And we don't even make you pay rent. You got this whole place to yourself while we're all crammed together in that little cottage. Brett and Chet sure don't get anythin' like this!"

She didn't mention that Brett and Chet never took the initiative to work for anything like it.

"And taking all my yarn!" she said, noticing what he'd swiped from her supply and turned into a mass of unidentifiable shapes. She tapped her foot. “Have you ever considered moving out?"

"Actually… I would love to now that hard times have come to an end." Once-ler spun around, and twirled one of the pink blobs of yarn around on his finger. "In fact, I'm almost ready to go and sell my invention. I just need to find something better than this cheap yarn to make it with."

(Read the whole story on Ao3)

Chapter 8 is up!

EXCERPT:

He'd finally become such a joke to the townsfolk, it seemed they'd entirely forgotten he was human.

Instead of just tomatoes, the grocer volunteered wheelbarrows of spoiled produce that some teenagers mixed with glass and rocks. A particularly well aimed stone knocked out a tooth as he was belting out his favorite jingle:

"The Thneed is good, the Thneed is grea—YOW!"

Once-ler usually didn't stop for anything, but the taste of blood made him drop his guitar on his foot. This hurt even worse, so he sprang up and down. The guitar bounced onto the concrete while the crowd laughed and cheered.

Once-ler didn't get a chance to see if the instrument had broken, because, in a fit of enthusiasm, the mean little girl with red hair ensured this was the case. She smashed it on the ground with the second worst noise Once-ler had ever heard.

A tomato landed in his stunned face, but he didn't even feel it. He just watched open-mouthed as fruits and vegetables pelted him and the girl stomped on the pieces, giggling with her parents who stood back and watched.

"Alright, sweetie, that's enough, we have to get to Grandma's house," the mother finally told her. She smiled and pulled out a big bag of chocolate-coated pretzels for her daughter as they walked away.

Once-ler's last shred of optimism finally evaporated. After his father had passed away, the guitar had been the only good memory he'd had from home.

"THAT'S IT!" he roared. "I've had enough!" He stormed from the gazebo with tears in his eyes.

Only the baker looked slightly sympathetic. She twisted a strand of curly brown hair around her finger as he strode past.

"Is this really the way to treat a stranger?!" he heard her yell at the grocer.

"Oh, come on, Norma, he's just a self-centered out-of-towner." The grocer sounded slightly abashed.

Once-ler turned to see Norma stomp her foot. "I know he is, and I know that piece of junk he's selling looks like a wadded up piece of bubblegum with hairs stuck in it, but you just gotta understand! Homeless mentally ill folks need to be shown charity..."

Her words just infuriated Once-ler more. "My family was right. I quit!" He ripped the Thneed from his neck, and accidentally whipped the baker in the face as he threw it away. It knocked off her glasses, which fell to the ground and shattered. Oops.

He walked away faster. Luckily his long legs took him back to the forest before anyone could call the police.

The problem is when it never stops being fun, and I don't want to do anything else

I love getting to the point that a story is finished and I just keep adding to it, like it's a sketch that I can keep rendering. It's hard to "show instead of tell" every single thing when you have limited time to write a fun fanfiction, but you can easily get sucked into refining it and expanding on things more and more. I don't know how much time I should spend on them if they're just for fun, but it is addicting. Really addicting.

Chapter 3 of The Great Wish Movie Rewrite is up on AO3. Read here: Link

The rewrite explores Magnifico as the protagonist with Asha and Amaya as villains, and Star Boy comes into the story later.

In this chapter, Magnifico holds an interview and meets Asha for the first time.

Blurb: It was noon the following day, and Amaya had promised to return within the hour with the most promising candidate she’d been able to find. Magnifico waited in his Wish Chamber, a hidden chamber inside his observatory that stored every wish he’d been given, but never yet granted. 

He reached out so one of the wishes alighted on his finger. The wisp flickered, leaving a trail like sparks of hope in its wake. The king admired the aspiration, and the sense of longing it radiated made his heart ache, like a tune somebody used to know, then forgot, and heard once again in the distance. He let the wish, light as dandelion fluff, ascend into the swirling cloud of others above him, where they danced in a radiant sky-revel, with stardust pirouettes and leaps.

Magnifico knew from poetry that wishes weren’t always what people should want, but rather, what they did want. They were mysterious flower buds that would unfold and unfold, and might never stop unfolding, until the world was overrun with the complications of them, unless someone did something to stop their consequences. 

His people needed to trust his wisdom, for he’d spent the last eighteen years studying the complexities of fate, and now recognised when the time was not right for a wish to unfold. The most challenging aspect of being a sorcerer was dealing with the unanswered wishes, because his subjects could fervently ask for something, believing it to be good and necessary, yet it was not always what was truly best for them. But why their wishes remained unanswered was a mystery to them. 

“I opened Pandora’s box by learning sorcery to grant wishes, but now I have a key, and can lock it up again when I need to,” the king told himself, though he was never at peace despite the fact. “But soon,” he leaned against a windowsill, “I will have someone to assist me, should anything go wrong. . .” 

Amaya had told him the candidate's name, and assured him that this time, she had complete confidence in her abilities. What had she said the candidate’s name was again? 

Gently, Magnifico traced the brass filigree of an old armillary sphere, its interlocking rings representing the orbits of celestial bodies. He studied its familiar patterns, remembering his own days as an apprentice, guided by his mentor's steady hand, and he listened to the faint, melodic hum of the wishes’ hopeful song. It filled him with peace.

A jarring shriek pierced through their tune. Magnifico spun so fast his sphere toppled off its perch on the table. 

“Someone is in my tower.”

Despite the horrific noise, the king made his expression calm, though a sinking sense of dread filled him as he feared for each delicate piece of equipment in his observatory. “I suppose this is the best candidate Amaya could find,” he thought sarcastically. “I should never have allowed our meeting to take place here. What was Amaya thinking? Well, I’ve got to give them a chance. . .”

But as Magnifico emerged from his Wish Chamber, the picture was worse than the one his imagination had leant him. A young woman had stumbled in with the grace of a toddler, and attempted to make contact with his book of forbidden magic, evident from enchanted wasps encircling her, which he’d conjured as a safety precaution, to materialise if anyone but him touched the glass case protecting the manuscript. 

The girl swatted her arms like a wild monkey, continuing to shriek as the enchanted wasps buzzed in a menacing symphony around her, and Magnifico felt a wave of pity, because she thought they could sting when they were only meant to confuse and to scare. He’d almost raised his voice to yell, but the girl was turning pink, clearly embarrassed, and Amaya had thought her worthy of coming here. There could still be virtue underneath, in spite of this careless accident. He mustered patience.

“No, no,” he laughed, making his presence known as he reentered his observatory. “Asha, is it? That book is forbidden.” Though he hurried forward, he maintained a calm composure. “Now hold still. I’ve got it.” As he raised his hands to summon the swarm, he tried to make light of her mistake. “You can’t have known, but I put, ahem, a spell on the glass guarding this book. It is actually very, very dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Then why would you have it?” Asha, still waving her arms, sounded as if she was going to cry. “I only wanted to touch the etchings around the glass because they were pretty.” 

She was so worked up she slipped, and almost kicked King Magnifico in the face just as he’d gathered all the wasps into his hands. Before they could force their way from his grasp, he called up all the magic he could, and shot them back at the case, which they melted into, becoming nothing but ornate carvings once again.

Magnifico sighed as he shut the case, then he rubbed his hands off on his robes. “A king must be prepared for everything. I hope there will never be a time this book needs to be used. Are you all right?”

“No,” said Asha, in what sounded like a whine.

Magnifico was going to overlook this, but then Asha ploughed on in a show-offish sort of ramble, “I mean yes. And I understand if you think I’m, like, totally weird and you want me to leave right now and never show my face again.”

“That would certainly be for the best,” thought Magnifico, but Amaya’s words made him curious whether Asha actually had some mysterious talent not obvious at first sight. “Let’s not over react,” he said instead. “You’re here; you’ve certainly got my attention.” He turned, and wriggled his fingers so a quill leapt into the air, ready to take notes on a bit of parchment he’d laid out on a desk. 

“So go ahead; tell me why you think you should be my apprentice.” He waited with hope in his heart.

“Well,” said Asha, in the tone of someone telling a joke to their friends, “I care too much.” Then she paused, as if waiting for a laugh.

“Ookay,” said Magnifico, as hope packed its bags and took a one way trip from his heart. He waited for her to say something else, anything to imply she had some selfless intention, but she just continued staring, as if waiting for a reaction.

“That’s interesting,” said Magnifico finally.

“It’s my weakness,” she burst out, and looked so pleased with herself Magnifico thought she was going to laugh at her own incompetence.

“I see.”

“Figured I might as well get through all the bad stuff right up front,” she ruined her own joke by blabbering on too long. She was clearly used to being surrounded by a group of friends who laughed at everything she said, and was trying quite hard to be quirky.

“Fair enough.” Magnifico already couldn’t wait to send her away. This was not the way someone with common sense acted before the king. It reminded him far too much of eighteen years earlier, when no one had shown him any respect. But he would get through the rest of the interview for Amaya’s sake. He breathed out. “And your strengths? Do you have any?” 

“Glad you asked, I have many.” Asha brushed her box braids behind her ear, then pulled a vellum book from her pocket. “I’m a hard worker, and I help well, and I’m young and malleable, and I like to draw.” 

Magnifico grasped for something in all these cliches. “You like to draw?” he latched onto the most useful of these irrelevant skills. “And how long have you had this ability?”

At this, the first glimpse of sincerity appeared in Asha’s eyes, and she opened her book to detailed life gestures she’d sketched of goats and lambs. “A long time.” She flipped through more pages of life-like scribbles. “It’s something my father taught me,” she told the king with a proud smile.

When Asha said this, a distant, half forgotten memory stirred inside Magnifico, and he peered closer at the young woman's annoying face.

“I think I remember your father.”

“You do?”

“He was a philosopher, was he not? Had great magic running through his blood. Always warning people about the consequences of getting whatever your heart desires.”

Asha’s eyes glazed over at the last part, but she eagerly started talking about herself again. “Oh yeah. We used to climb that tree by the high ridge in the Hamlet, where I’m from, to look at the stars, and he said they were there to guide us.”

“Your father said a lot more than soft soap like that. He was a very wise man. Did you learn much about his philosophies?”

“Not really. After he got struck by lightning, he wasn’t able to take me out at night as much anymore. I used to want to make a wish that he would get better. But the electric shock left him with lots of burns, and his heart finally stopped one day.”

“I’m sorry. How old were you when he passed away?”

“I was twelve years old.”

Magnifico finally glimpsed something recognisable in Asha, so he attempted to dig a bit deeper.

“It’s not fair, is it?” he asked, taking a gamble as he searched her face for that sincerity again. “When I was young, I too suffered great loss.” He wasn't sure Asha would pay attention as the subject changed to something other than herself, but he went on, determined to finish, because whether she listened at this moment would decide everything. 

“Years ago, my entire family was killed by selfish, greedy thieves, and our lands were reduced to ashes,” he told her. “The devastation was beyond imagining. The streets, once bustling with life, were strewn with the bodies of those I once loved. Though the village I’d roamed was silent, I could still hear sobbing of ghosts, of my mother and my father, my brothers and sisters, and my friends. Not a day passes without the haunting thought: if only I had known sorcery then. . .” The king shuddered as the faces of his lost kin grew clear in his memories. He looked hard into Asha’s eyes. "It is for this reason, Asha, that the very foundation of this kingdom is built upon the belief that no one should ever experience the agony of watching their dreams crumble before their eyes. I vowed to create a haven where everyone would be safe, where the horrors of my past would never befall another.”

Magnifico paused to see whether she was listening.

Asha had finally stopped rocking back and forth, and looked contemplative. When the king stopped talking, she blinked. “You’re right,” she managed. “No one should live their life feeling the pain of that loss everyday.”

The king nodded. “Yes. Exactly. And that is why I do what I do.”

Asha’s voice was serious when she replied, “And that’s why I want to work for you.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, or his own good heart deceiving him, but at that moment, Magnifico was overwhelmed, and his heart melted a little. “Come with me,” he said, and led Asha toward the tower’s back wall, where he raised an arm so the stones shifted and slid apart, and his Wish Chamber revealed itself.

“Wow,” said Asha as blue light poured over her, and the domed chamber shone upon her in all its heavenly glory.

“You’re one of the few I’ve ever invited in here.” Magnifico led her inside with sweeping strides. “But if I am to trust you, I need you to understand just how important the wishes of Rosas are.” He glanced at his guest, and was pleased to see her expression was properly impressed, her eyes wide, and her mouth shut. “You can feel them, can’t you?” 

“I can,” she whispered. “They’re, uh, everything.”

“That’s exactly it. These wishes are everything.” Magnifico paused to let her take in the brilliance of them.

“I didn’t expect them to feel so alive.” Asha reached out toward the tangible essence of someone’s deepest aspiration: a woman cradling a violin in her arms inside the orb. She shivered as the woman created the beautiful music of someone who’d put in countless hours of practice, each pluck of a string evoking a yearning that transcended the material world around them. 

Magnifico laughed a deep laugh at Asha’s first impression. “They fill you with so much longing, don’t they? But that one would do no good to grant. Ambition untempered by effort stifles the growth of character. Denying someone the trials and triumphs of their journey robs them of the refinement of their soul. To grow in virtue is to become something more beautiful than even the most vibrant vibrations of violin strings.”

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