BIG TO THE SMALL

IT GROWS ON ALL

SMALL TO THE BIG

ONE THREAD OF A WIG

UNWANTED AND PLUCKED

IT DROPS IN THE MUCK

THE BEANSTALK WAS A COLOR OF GREEN

This made you wish for sunglasses: so green it almost sparkled. And so alive it never stopped growing. Yoj could actually see the stem (thick as a hundred tree trunks) slowly twisting, the enormous, broad leaves almost imperceptibly lengthening from the stem, uncurling themselves, and turning toward the sun.

A kind of whispery noise emanated from it, the sounds of growth, but it seemed to you that the Beanstalk was quietly singing to itself.

Y/N: One thread of a wig…

You repeated this to yourself. It had to be a hair. A big hair. The hair of a giant. And the surest place to find a giant was at the top of the Beanstalk.

Only when you were near enough to touch the lower leaves did you notice the makeshift barricade surrounding the Beanstalk’s base. Two ogres sat in folding chairs in the shade of a tent-sized leaf, quietly munching from bags that read: Potato Chips: Giant Size.

You started to pull back one of the barricades.

Male Ogre: Nope.

Female Orge: Yep, nope.

Y/N: I’m sorry?

What was going on here?

Both ogres began to stumble over themselves in an attempt to explain.

Male Orge: They gotta thing up there…

Female Orge: There’s this stuff…

Male Orge: Jumpin’ and sum other…

Female Orge: But it’s a list you got…

???: Enough!

You looked for the source of the voice. A bright green sprite stood on a Beanstalk leaf perfectly camouflaged. Her hair, wings, and stylish motorcycle boots were all the same color of green.

Y/N: Oh, thank the book. Someone who can hel...

Sprite: I’ll stop you right there.

The sprite hovered directly in front of your face. Her eyes were glowing green.

Sprite: Don’t try any flattertalk. Just go away.

Male Orge: Ah, c’mon, Amy. Why you gotta be so mean?

Amy: You!

The sprite darted straight to the ogre.

Amy: Shut it!

The ogre bowed his head.

You took a breath.

Y/N: Hello, Amy, is it? My name is Y/N Ozymandias. Would you be so kind as to tell me why the Beanstalk is closed?

Amy hefted the tiny MirrorPad in her hand.

Amy: Sporting event up there. And you’re not on the list. There are rules, you know.

You groaned. You respected rules. Rules existed to keep everything going in the right order, on track, safely and securely, with as little uncertainty as possible. But here rules were stopping you from trying to get everything back on track.

Your mind raced. You had read a book two years ago, The Dust Trade During the Age of Djinn, detailing the historical economics of trade between magical creatures.

There had been a chapter on how the court of the sprite regent only traded in ideas, thoughts, or feelings, which made doing business with them awkward and confusing. Instead of a load of potatoes, they would trade something like “the satisfaction of a full wagon,” or instead of a diamond they would trade “a bride’s beauty.”

Well, it was worth a shot.

Y/N: It is a pleasure to exchange thoughts with you today, Amy.

You said this in what you hoped was the formal sprite manner.

The sprite’s little eyebrows raised in surprise. Her lips cracked a tiny smile, revealing green teeth.

Amy: And with you, Y/N.

You clasped your hands together. You were on the right track.

Y/N: I am thinking today...

You started gazing up at the clouds that swallowed the top of the Beanstalk. You needed to express your need to get up the Beanstalk and into the giants’ castle, but in the sprite manner.

Y/N:… about transit, and passage, and entry.

Amy smiled and flitted back to the leaf she had been sitting on when you arrived.

Amy: Ah, my thoughts bend toward duty, gates, and…

Her eyes flicked to her ogre companions.

Amy:… frustration.

Y/N: Perhaps we could trade?

Amy: What do you offer?

Y/N: I would take your frustration in exchange for passage.

The sprite sighed and turned away. Whoops. You messed up there somewhere. What you wanted was to somehow make this sprite’s life easier in exchange for the chance to go up the Beanstalk.

Y/N: But I fear it would be a poor exchange.

The sprite nodded.

Y/N: I am feeling free, Amy. Right now, I am feeling like I could take a break. Alone, away from large distractions, maybe to have a cupcake. I want to trade my freedom to you, Amy. You mentioned duty before. Your duty. I’ll take that in trade. You can relax, and I think duty suits me.

The sprite brightened.

She flitted up to your cheek and patted it.

Amy: Deal. Let us also trade gratitude.

You laughed in relief and happiness.

Y/N: Agreed.

You watched Amy fly off toward town. Probably to the cupcake shop. Hopefully she and the pastry vendors could work something out, because you were pretty sure they wouldn’t take something like “duty” or “frustration” as payment.

With the sprite gone, a quick, friendly conversation with the ogres delegated the door-guarding portion of your newly gained duty to them, and you proceeded to the Beanstalk base. Ogres, you found, were often reasonable when treated kindly. A climbing rope was wrapped around it, and you clicked a hook onto the first link and began the long, arm-aching, stomach-trembling, dizzying climb.

Y/N: I. Don’t. Like. Big. Weeds.

At last you breached the cloud cover and climbed up into noise. Masses of people and creatures sat in towering bleachers, blocking her passage to Giant Castle. And no giants in sight.

A huge banner hung over the cloud field: Fairy Ball!

You looked around, desperate to find some way around the crowd and to the castle.

A witch in black spandex and a pointy black hat was floating on a mop about ten feet above the crowd. She was standing straight up, holding the mop vertically, with one boot on the floppy business end of the mop, one hand holding the pole part. A massive mirror broadcast her image to the crowd.

She reminded you of a certain someone.

The witch shouted into a megaphone.

Witch: Next event: Fairy Ballll… Ballll....Ballll!

The crowd cheered, and four teams of two people ran onto the cloud field, each in matching bright outfits.

You heard a voice you recognized.

Brair: What do you mean, he doesn’t meet the height requirement?

She was wearing a bright pink minijumpsuit and sporty wedge sneakers, her dark brown hair swept up in a ponytail. As always, crownglasses were perched on her head, a sleek, aerodynamic pair today.

A plump, bearded man with a bird on his shoulder answered her.

Man: Rules.

You moved closer and nearly tripped on Nate Nutcracker.

Y/N: Whoa! Sorry, Nate! I didn’t see you there.

Nate: Story of my life.

Nate smiled to show he didn’t mind, though his forehead was worried. He was also wearing a bright pink minijumpsuit.

Y/N: Wait… you were going to compete with Briar, and they won’t let you because....

Nate: Stature.

His tiny hands shook. You rubbed your chin for a moment.

Y/N: I mean, I could try to do something if you'd like.

Nate quickly raised his hands and moved to try and cover your mouth, but since he was so much smaller than you, he ended up pawing at your chin.

Nate: No, it’s totally okay.

His nutcracker jaw was chattering.

Nate: I’m actually re… re… relieved.

Still, you marched up to Briar, ready to give the referee a piece of your mind.

Briar stopped her yelled protests midsentence.

Brair: There!

She pointed at you.

Brair: There’s my new partner!

Y/N: Wait… what?

Briar grabbed your hand, tugging you onto the field.

Brair: I had no idea you wanted to start doing hextreme sports, Y/N!

You stumbled and skipped to try and keep up with Brair as she pulled you along.

Y/N: I, um, I don’t. Actually, I just came up hunting for a giant’s hair.

Brair: Really? Gross.

Y/N: Yeah. But what are you....

Brair: Stand here.

Briar pointed to a small circle combed into the cloud field.

Brair: Fairy Ball is a cool event. You’ll be okay. Hey, I’m throwing a going-away party for Maddie and you tonight in my dorm. You must be there, of course. I know we all want to cry our eyeballs out about it, but crying makes for lousy partying, so tonight we dance and sing and just spellebrate the wildest, maddest girl in all of Ever After and the charming lost son of Oz.

You stood in the spot as commanded. However, when you did, you realized a few things.

1.) Was she expecting you to fail?

2.) What the hex is Fairy Ball?

3.) What do you even do?

4.) SHE TOTALLY THINKS YOU'RE GONNA FAIL!

Y/N: Hey! Wait a sec....

Witch: Release the balls!

You looked around. You had assumed that Fairy Ball was some kind of ballroom dance-off, but there was no music, and everyone seemed to be looking… up.

You looked up just in time to see a giant, silver, spherical blob plop heavily onto you and Briar. You felt slimy for a second, and then, pop! , you were inside the sphere, looking out onto the world through a shimmering haze.

Y/N: Wait…I’m here for....

Brair: A giant’s hair, I know. Don’t worry, I can help.

Y/N: But....

Witch: Go!

Briar: Run!

Y/N: Aah!

But you ran. As Briar and you ran, the ball began to roll. It surrounded you like a rubbery cocoon, powered by the motion of their tread. You watched through the transparent curves as the other balls passed you.

Y/N: Is… it… a race?

Brair: Yeah!

The ball was surprisingly bouncy beneath your feet, like running on a trampoline. That and the fact that you weren't as athletic as many may believe.

Y/N: Why is it… called a Fairy Ball?

Briar pointed to either side of them.

Briar: Because of the wings!

Tiny gossamer wings were attached to the outside of the ball. Only they weren’t spinning with the ball, just flapping once every time your ball seemed to make a complete rotation. You imagined that if the ball were spinning fast enough, it might actually fly.

Brair: Faster!

You tried to pick up the pace, but you kept slipping on the unfamiliar surface. Three Fairy Balls cruised along in front of you. You hoped that Briar wouldn’t feel bad about losing.

Suddenly the Fairy Ball in first place disappeared. It just dropped out of view.

Y/N: Briar?

Briar: Faster!

She was laughing.

The second ball dropped out of sight.

Y/N: Briar? Why are there wings on the ball?

The third one disappeared, and then you saw it. You were running right off the edge of the clouds.

Briar: So we can fly!

And your Fairy Ball rolled off the edge and fell.

Brair: Hextreeeeeeeeme!

Y/N: Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

You could see the other competitors now, their Fairy Balls spinning, tiny wings flapping, bobbing in the air as if they were floating in water. You would have found it pretty had you not been nearly incapacitated by terror.

Y/N: But I needed to go. To. The. Giant! Castle!

Briar: I know, I can help!

You sailed past the ball that had been in third place, the second, and then the first.

You stopped screaming.

Y/N: Hey! We’re winning!

Briar and you gave each other a high five, and then looked down. The ground was coming up remarkably fast. You weren’t “winning” so much as falling faster than anyone else. You looked at Briar with wide eyes.

Y/N/Briar: Faster!

You scanned the ground below. You were dropping too fast, and you were going to go splat. It was all wide stone ground and cobblestone streets.

You needed to land in water or hay or something softer than a hammer.

Y/N: What’s that?

Briar saw you pointing to a large gray mass.

Briar: The. Giants’. Midden. Heap.

Briar was panting with the effort of running.

The midden heap. The giants’ garbage pile. Gross. But way softer than stone. And just maybe…

Y/N: Do the giants throw their garbage and stuff there?

Briar: Yep! Maybe even the hairs after a haircut. But… it’ll be nasty.

You shrugged, as much as anyone can when running for their life.

Briar looked at the oncoming rush of ground.

Briar: Let’s do it!

The Fairy Ball containing you and Briar Beauty crashed into the giants’ garbage heap with a sound like ten thousand butter pies exploding.

The ball burst on impact, its remains lying like a gelatin picnic blanket under the girls. For two seconds you sat in silence, stunned that you were not road paste.

Briar broke the silence.

Briar: That. Was. Awesome! Let’s do it again!

You took a breath, thought better of it, and then began absently patting yourself to make sure you weren’t missing any arms or legs.

Y/N: Um, I can’t. Have an errand. To run.

The word run reminded you how you’d just run for your life, and you shuddered.

Briar hopped up.

Briar: What do you need the hair for anyway? Hextra credit project? Never mind, I don’t want to know any gross details.

Briar tore a couple of pieces off the ball’s remains

Briar: Here, we can use this to board down the heap so we don’t have to ruin our shoes in this nastiness.

Y/N: Thanks, Briar. I’ll see you back at school. When I succeed.

Your friend gave you a thumbs-up and leaped onto her impromptu garbage surfboard.

Briar: Wahooo!

You looked around the garbage heap. Huge orange peels, banana peels, crumpled tissues, and ( shudder) sharp toenail clippings.

At last you spotted a thin, stiff stick as long as her arm poking out from under a monstrous, wilted cabbage leaf. A giant hair. You didn’t have enough time to climb back up the Beanstalk and try to find the giants all over again.

Besides, the riddle did say “drops in the muck.” Maybe the most garbagey hair was exactly what the spell needed.

Y/N: Be brave.

You teetered across a path of garbage, moved aside the leaf, and pulled out the giant’s hair. It was black and rough to the touch, like the bark of an oak tree. Holding the hair firmly, you sat on the scrap of the gelatinous ball and slid down the heap. After falling from the sky, sledding over garbage was a walk in the park.

But for now, maybe you should find Raven and see how she's doing.

Y/N: I better not be banished after all of this.

The End Is Just The Beginning.....