Chapter 6 Is Up!!!

Chapter 8 of The Great Wish Movie Rewrite up on AO3!

Read here! Link

When Asha is appointed the people's new fairy godmother, she and Star Boy start a civil war. Magnifico confronts them, and dark magic corrupts him further.

Excerpt: Chapter Eight: Civil War

"What's your opinion of our fairy godmother?"

"Your what?"

"Our fairy godmother. She promised she’s going to give us literally whatever we want."

"And who--"

Just then, Asha flashed across his vision, robed in a flowing lavender cape with a hood, a big pink bow under her chin, the slim, white wand between her fingers, then she disappeared behind a tannery, and Magnifico swore he could hear the star's laugh not far behind her.

"Enough!" he yelled. "Enough. There are too many of you." And he pushed through the flock, then stormed back into his castle.

For the next week, Magnifico busied himself staring into his book, which hypnotised him more and more, and there were less moments when the green subsided from his vision. He barely noticed anything else, until one day when a commotion outside grew especially loud. Through a window, he glimpsed the silhouettes of Asha and Star Boy causing more chaos in the village. Deep furrows carved into his brow, and his eyes narrowed as his mouth turned down into a scowl. He had to do something about them, but his fascination with learning forbidden magic was a distraction. 

Finally the noise became too loud to ignore, and Magnifico snapped his book shut, then crept down from his tower, and, keeping to the shadows, made his way to the town square where his enemies were fooling around. He pressed his back against a pillar, peering around its edge.

Asha twirled through the village with her wand, the sparkles coming out its end trailing in the breeze behind her. She looked determined to use it at every turn. Meanwhile Star Boy, perched nearby on an awning, revelled in the spectacle, egging Asha on with laughter as he clapped. “Go on Asha! Don’t be shy! Make it bigger, reach the sky!”

Asha basked in the attention, giggling as she made a baker’s oven grow to the size of a dragon. The oven roared and shot balls of magma from its chamber with startling rumbles. 

“I only asked for a small upgrade.” Mr. Burphy watched with hands to his forehead as his bakery was caught up in flames.

“Oops! Sorry!” Asha tried fanning away the smoke with her wand, when someone tapped her on the shoulder so she turned.

“Can I have two hundred cupcakes for free?” the spoiled little boy who was now a man asked her.

“You totally can,” she said with her back to the catastrophe, and granted his wish as the bakery’s roof fell in behind her. From the tip of her wand, a poof of cupcakes materialised, each swirled with frosting in every shade of the rainbow, topped with glittering sprinkles. They multiplied rapidly, spilling out into the street, causing an old lady to slip. The young man clapped and cheered as the bakery’s fire was forgotten in the whirlwind of frosting and sprinkles.

Star Boy twirled around a lamppost he’d moved to. “Haha, Asha, what a scene! They’ll never be able to get this clean!”

Magnifico’s frown deepened. In the grip of dark magic, he could care less about the smoke billowing from Mr. Burphy’s bakery or flames licking the edges of market stalls. His focus was entirely on his rivals. Their antics were an affront to his carefully curated image of control. Each burst of confection seemed to mock his authority. Magnifico’s fingers tapped against the pillar as he plotted how he could kill Asha and Star Boy spectacularly in front of everyone. 

Asha scampered towards the other side of town, where a young lass wished for a pet rhinoceros. Her wand waved, and out popped a massive, thick-skinned mammal with a sharp horn protruding from its snout. It promptly started chasing Star Boy, knocking over everything and sending townsfolk running in all directions. The star led it in circles, his chronic snickering encouraging it.

“Okay, not what I intended,” laughed Asha as a young man was almost paralyzed when he was kicked backwards into a wall. She produced a lasso made of sparkles she tried to corral the creature with, but it only entangled a couple peasants who became enchanted, then joined the creature in its dizzying dance.

Finally Star Boy shook the creature off, and floated up beside Asha to cheer, “Well well, look at them go! They are putting on quite a show!” He flew high above the fleeing peasants and ruined buildings, just in time to watch as the statue of King Magnifico got its head knocked off. It fell to the ground where it smashed into a thousand pieces. The once orderly kingdom was a wreck.

By now the entire village gathered to confront Asha, encircling her, all covered in many things from ashes to glitter to pie filling. Some were covered in blood.

“Okay, okay,” Asha shouted over the angry mob, her wand waving frantically to try and undo the mess she’d created. “I’ll fix everything. It’s not that big of a deal. Just give me a second.”

Magnifico, looking around the wall of a smouldering shoe shop, let his lips curl into a smirk. “The entire village gathered into one spot,” he thought. “How convenient.” His grasp tightened around his staff, and he imagined Asha and Star Boy, surrounded by the throng of disgruntled subjects, meeting their end in a climatic show before them all. 

But before he stepped out to reveal himself, he watched curiously as the peasants slipped on frosting and the rhinoceros barreled past, then an even darker grin spread across his face. Why end this when he could plunge the town into even greater disarray, just for the joy of it? Perhaps Asha and Star Boy were on to something. His ungrateful subjects deserved a lesson, and granting wishes could indeed be great fun. With sudden, wicked inspiration, Magnifico decided to join them.

He walked out into plain view. "Ho, ho, ho!” he announced, his voice a booming parody of cheerfulness. “Who’s ready for a wish?”

The townsfolk, momentarily stunned by the sight of their feared king, hesitated, before their eyes lit up with hope, and typically, they immediately forgot he’d recently committed a murder. His subjects ran up to him with gleaming eyes. “I want a dragon!” one squealed. “I wish for a castle!” another called out.

Magnifico’s staff glowed with dark magic as he waved it theatrically. For each wish, he conjured grand manifestations in flashes of green. A dragon with ebony scales and evil eyes appeared, hissing as it coiled around the square, thrashing buildings to splinters with a barbed tail. A castle of shadowy spires rose from the ground, its piercing turrets sending subjects scattering out of their way.

Asha and Star Boy, hanging back, watching the king from the sidelines with open mouths, soon crept forward, their shocked, suspicious expressions melting into ones of excitement. 

“Look at that!” Asha clapped her hands. “Magnifico’s really getting into the spirit!”

Star Boy hovered beside her, a smile splitting his face. “He’s making this a grand display! I’ve never seen wishes done this way!” He flew around the dragon, darting in and out of its coils as it crushed Farmer Finnegan’s garden.

Magnifico’s shoulders shook with laughter as he watched the unrest. Each time a wish was fulfilled, the kingdom was wrecked further. Galloping unicorns with stabbing horns, mountains of gold coins that squashed his subjects, and stupider suggestions still, all executed with poorest judgement.

“This is the best!” Asha turned to Magnifico. “See how sharing is caring? It’s so much fun to make dreams come true.”

Magnifico’s laughter rang louder. The more carnage he created, the more his sense of control returned. But as the evening wore on, his generosity revealed its true cost: a wish for endless sweets resulted in clogged streets, and when a drizzle started, it melted into sticky sugar that ruined everything it touched, so people’s demands turned into abstract contradictions. One woman, caught in the deluge of stickiness, wished loudly, “Only I should be able to make wishes!” at the same time as another man. These pleas warped materiality, so that every time either of them made a wish, their personal reality became disconnected from the rest of the kingdom, fulfilling their desires in isolated loops of their own making.

Matters were convoluted further when Mr. Burphy, desperate to reclaim his bakery, cried out, “All wishes should have good results!” The effect was that everyone began to disbelieve in magic, because things remained the same when no one could define good, let alone understand what was good for them. Subjective wishes couldn’t become objective realities, filling the people with doubt so they began fighting amongst themselves. 

Another woman, driven by desperation, wished to transport herself to a future where she could escape the troubles, but didn't anticipate the consequences when the total matter of the universe, which needs to remain constant, was disturbed by her appearance, causing an anomaly that resulted in a catastrophic explosion when she arrived. Time travel, unlike producing things from thin air, does not simply relocate mass. The more Magnifico’s subjects tried to mend things, the more tangled everything became.

“I wish you’d go somewhere far away!” a disgruntled scrivener, shaking a fist, yelled at Magnifico, so the staff in his hand winked, and with a sputtering pop, the king vanished. Moments later, he reappeared, robes singed. Crystals clung to his hair and clothes and he collapsed to his knees. His vision had narrowed to a pinprick, and he had a feeling in his chest of being crushed that left him gasping for breath. He was scarred from briefly visiting a silicon dimension inhospitable to carbon atoms. “No more wishes!” he barked, slamming his staff into the ground to heal himself from the consequences of travelling there under High-G acceleration.

Finish reading: Link

Chapter 13 is up! (Millionth Thneed Party)

The millionth Thneed party was another beat that would've been interesting to focus on if the movie didn't waste time on Ted. I can't believe there are only a few more chapters left to post now!

Excerpt:

There was another orange flash. Now he was sure he'd seen it. The Lorax was throwing a fit. "Close the drapes on all the windows." He stopped a servant. "It's taking away from the show on the ceiling."

While he'd been lost in thought, Once-ler's Ma was busy orchestrating the next highlight of the evening. She had insisted on this, claiming it would add a touch of whimsy to the grand event.

"Laaaaaadies aaaaaand geeeeeentlemen!" her loud voice boomed through a microphone, cutting through the chatter as the music fizzled out. "May I have your attention, please!"

Faces turned towards the menagerie that she stood in front of, wearing a pink, fluffy gown and beaming with pride. Behind her, in a large glass tank, were more humming-fish. Their scales gave way to multicolored sheens under the bright lights, but they were clustered towards the back of the tank, their large eyes darting around the room.

"We have a special treat for you tonight," she went on. "Tonight these little beauties--straight from the heart of the forest--are going to serenade us with a grand song!"

Polite applause rippled through the audience, though many guests still appeared more interested in their conversations and cocktails. Once-ler's Ma signaled to a technician, who turned a dial on the sound system. Soft, enchanting music began to play, and the humming-fishes' voices were, one by one, slowly drawn into the tune with quavering but rich intonations.

Air fol-la-lull derry dum toor-a-lie-ay

Rrye-dum diddledum darruhdum

Troll, fol-de- roll, troll, fol-de- roll

The haunting sound filled the room, with echoes that could only be described as capturing the very essence of the valley. In less than ten seconds, the previously bored faces had all turned towards the tank, conversation dying on their lips.

Oh--Oo--Oh--Oo--Oh--Oo

Oloho, oloho, oloho, oloho

Whack whack, lady lady lie

The music sounded like the wind through the trees, the ripple of water, and birdsong mixed together with something else that was ancient and indescribable.

Once-ler knew from being a musician how hard it was to get people to pay attention to even his most beautiful songs, and animals usually flat out ran away. Barn cats dived for cover, mules twitched their ears in irritation, and birds flew off--to ordinary animals, even man's most sophisticated music held no appeal. However, when the fish started their underwater opera, the world itself paused to listen with rapt attention.

All other noise stopped, including the ticking of clocks and background noise of the river. The air was respectfully still, and the stars outside the window could be seen ceasing to twinkle with baited breath just before the servant closed the curtains.

Only then did Once-ler realize, as a shiver crept down his spine and tears slid unprompted down his face, that the world had never been deaf--it simply needed to hear a performance in the right key. A key that one could only hit, apparently, if they were a particular type of fish.

"Isn't it just marvelous?" his Ma cooed into the microphone when there was a break in the rhythm, and the crowd clapped. "Aren't they just the most delightful little creatures?"

Once-ler frowned. Something about the song had changed, and the spell was breaking. The fishes' voices were wavering as their eyes dilated at the thunderous applause. He could see they were in distress, but his Ma was oblivious, giving the aquarium a little shake to jolt them back into song. She turned to the crowd again, encouraging them to applaud louder.

The guests whistled and shouted for more. The humming-fish were gasping now, turning a grayish hue. Their notes came out in rasping croaks:

Air... air... loll-dee-daa

Yay-dee, lay-dee... oh...

Ahhhh!

Once-ler stepped forward, but his Ma shot him a sharp look.

Before he could do anything else, the lights flickered, and the temperature dropped with an icy blast. The guests glanced around, crying out as some of them dropped their drinks. The music from the speakers warbled and then cut out entirely, leaving silence in its wake.

After a moment of stunned confusion, a glaring orange glow filled the ballroom. The humming-fish stopped any painful attempt to sing, raising their eyes to the spector. The silhouette of the Truffula Valley's guardian materialized in the center of the room, shimmering with bright light.

Once-ler's Ma dropped the microphone, and bumped into the tank as she jerked back. The crowd gasped and looked around, unsure of what was happening.

The guardian's saw-dusty voice rang out, mightier than the rush of the river. "You've gone too far, Once-ler, it's clear. Now greed is going to bring you to tears. You've shown no regard for the lives you’ve disrupted. You've taken nature's beauty for something corrupted. You've taken the wonder for your own gain. Now you will suffer consequences and pain!"

The ghostly Lorax's eyes locked onto Once-ler’s as he stood paralyzed with guilt and fear. "Greed has brought you to this moment. It's time to face your mistake and own it."

As the orange phantom raised its hands, the glass tank holding the humming-fish shattered, and water poured out and soaking the ballroom floor. The grand fountain began to tremble and crack, and the ornate structure burst apart, sending a torrent of water to flood the room.

Guests screamed and scrambled to escape the rising water. Norma's curly hair was drenched and straightened. Mcbean dived under a table, only to be washed out again with his cigar put out. Once-ler stumbled, trying to regain his footing as the water surged around him, suddenly waist high. The Lorax's voice boomed above the chaos with a final damnation: "Your greed will drown you in the end! As the river should have before this happened!"

With that, the ghostly spirit vanished, leaving the ballroom in disarray. There was a loud CRACK and Once-ler fell backwards into the water.

The Great Lorax Rewrite (beginning)

Hey guys, here's the beginning of the fanfiction I'm writing on Ao3. The aim is to tell Once-ler's whole story from beginning to end without Ted interrupting. There are four chapters up so far, and a lot more to come:

"Where is it? Where did you put my guitar?"

Once-ler smacked his head as he looked under the triple bunk bed he was forced to share with his brothers in their small house.

"Reckon if ya don't get out there n' chop some trees, I'll let Brett n' Chet smash that dang guitar for good!" his Ma's voice called from the kitchen.

His younger twin brothers and sister laughed from the dinner table.

"Hurry up n' get more money from yer wood," Brett complained. "We only got three potatoes in our stew today, n' they're smaller n' ping pong balls."

"Yeah, an' none for you, Oncie," said Gizette. "I get the last one!"

"Why can't I ever have any of the stew if I'm always the one earnin' the money?" Once-ler tripped out of their closet-like bedroom, and squeezed around the table through the equally cramped dining area. This was made even harder by his abnormal height; he always had bruises on his knees and elbows from being such a tall person in such a small house.

Before him sat his shorter, but equally ungainly family, squished around the table: his mother with her teased up hair balanced by a bow, in her patched polka-dot sweater while serving brown stew water, the twins Brett and Chet with ripped up overalls and squashed hats who were staring eagerly at two tiny potatoes on their plates, and the youngest "baby" Gizette with ratty hair, buck teeth, and the biggest serving of stew of all (which was still not very big).

In the corner Once-ler's father was asleep in the rocking chair by the fire, using his old gray coat as a blanket. His gray hat was pulled over his stubbled face, and his ax laid on the floor beside him after his long day of woodcutting. Once-ler had to avoid the blade as he tiptoed to the only corner of the room with enough space.

"Because, sweetie," said his Ma, "You're the oldest child, and we have to think of the youngins. It's time for you to be an adult. Anyway, we've all got to make sacrifices when times are hard." The fancy unidentifiable dead animal she always wore around her neck bobbed its nose as she scooped the last tiny part of the stew into her own bowl.

This was always the excuse whenever Once-ler said he needed anything: "We have to think of the youngins." He understood the sentiment, really. It just seemed like he couldn't recall anyone ever using that argument during the short time he'd gotten to be the youngest. The youngest kids were also older than he'd been when they'd first started using this excuse. In fact, it seemed his family had decided Once-ler was an adult the second he'd been born, and that the others could never grow up.

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.

New chapter is up!

Preview:

The first place Once-ler tried his luck was the city of North Nitch where the biggest businesses were. It was a city of rainbow, sleek buildings twisted into swirly shapes and blinking lights, filled with the latest technology, including traffic lights with seven colors instead of three. He lost track of how many times he almost got run over in traffic trying to understand what they were supposed to mean.

O'Hare's Business and Innovation Center was the biggest, sleekest, twistiest building where he made an appointment to pitch his product. He rode an elevator up to the hundredth floor at the top of the building where helicopters flew so close to the window it looked like he could touch them. The O'Hares were a famous line of CEOs who ran all the major companies in every country.

Once-ler pulled his guitar from his back, mentally going over the pitch he'd carefully prepared for the team of salesmen. He took a deep breath, and began:

"The great is Thneed… I mean, the Thneed is good," he missed a note, completely forgetting how to sing in anapestic tetrameter.

READ THE REST ON AO3!

Join me as I post an actually finished rewrite of this entire movie! Extra plot twists, foreshadowing, and embellishments, since I did multiple drafts! Nobody ever finished a full rewrite before, so I did it myself.

Chapter 11 is up!

IF YOU HAVEN'T STARTED READING NOW, IT'S JUST GETTING TO THE FUN PART!

Excerpt:

As the meetings became more frequent, the character he had invented started to take on a life of its own. It was no longer just a way to get through the day. He would slip into his green suit, the color of money, and with it, would transform into someone else entirely. His voice would change—louder, more charismatic, filled with a confidence that didn’t quite belong to him. His handshake would be firmer, his smile broader, his laugh just a bit too loud.

Brett, Chet, and Gizette, who had seen the transformation firsthand, started calling him “Greed-ler” behind his back. They found the whole thing hilarious, completely different from the brother they knew. Gizette doodled pictures of Greed-ler on scraps of paper, turning him into a cartoon character with exaggerated features and dollar signs in each eye.

It wasn’t long before Greed-ler became more than just a private joke. The image of the green-suited CEO with a maniacal grin spread throughout the company, and soon, it wasn’t just his siblings drawing cartoons of him. Employees began to share these drawings, and Greed-ler started popping up in more official places—on company newsletters, posters, even merchandise. What began as a role to get through the day turned into the official mascot of Thneeds Inc.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3!

This chapter is a little longer because I want to take my time showing how Once-ler's personality devolves. I've also never seen any writing about what an average day at the company would be like. As I go through the whole movie, I want to thoroughly explore every last thing like this for once. There really is more than a novel's worth of potential in this story, if it's given its due.

Also, instead of always making Once-ler doubtful about his family's selfishness, I wanted it to be clear he was joining in with them and being an equally terrible or worse person. This is key to making the story work and have a more powerful lesson.

I wish archiveofourown would let us easily decorate the documents better, like Google Docs. That would be so much fun.

Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to  be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower.  And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky. 

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity. 

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have. 

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded. 

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

Lorax Rewrite Excerpt

Without focusing on Ted, the story can start earlier and show more of Once-ler's background trying to sell his Thneed. What bad influences did he have when it came to running a business? Some of the advice in this chapter are real things I've been told...

Excerpt below:

He pulled the Thneed from his neck, and spread it on the table. "Ah, you know what, let me just show you."

"It's brilliant," said the main representative immediately.

He was the shortest man and wore a sleek white suit. "The audacity is stunning. It's the perfect balance between essential and useless. Whimsical enough to capture the imagination, yet quaint enough to be marketed as a necessity. This is, indeed, something everyone needs. We would just have to make it out of a better material. For the most part, there's not a single thing that could be improved. However…" He looked up from his spinny chair at the long table. "There's one problem."

His colleagues in smaller chairs around him nodded their heads knowingly.

"Whaddya mean?" asked Once-ler.

The salesman pressed his fingers together and leaned forward. "To sell a product, you need to have a certain degree of charisma," he explained. "The creator's image is even more important than the thing itself when it comes to commerce. That is, you can't just come into a company in your dirty lumberjack clothes, dragging a mule, singing out of tune, and expect to be a success."

Once-ler turned red. There were no barns in North Nitch, so he'd been taking Melvin everywhere with him on a leash. The buildings were so big it hadn't occurred to him there was anything wrong with it. Plus Melvin was such a well-behaved mule, or maybe it was just that he hadn't had any human friends in so long, Once-ler had unconsciously started to think of him as a person.

He also resented his spiffy new outfit being called dirty lumberjack clothes. The fashion of his old town must've looked that way to outsiders no matter how new or clean they were. He observed the stiff, sleek blazers the businessmen wore and took note.

"There seem to be two of you here right now, Mr. Ler," the salesman said, and Once-ler got the feeling he wasn't talking about the fact that he'd brought his mule.

"On one hand, I see a powerful inventor with an ingenious work ethic, capable of bringing impressive ideas to life. But you can’t let humility hold you back. My advice to you is to try and think of yourself a little more selfishly, if you know what I mean."

"No, sir… Could you expand on that?"

"I mean stop thinking of yourself as someone small from a lowly background. You have to imagine yourself as bigger than everyone else."

The salesman hopped from his chair and drew his own short body to its full height in front of the towering woodsman.

"It doesn't matter if you're the tallest person in the world, if you never think you can reach anything." The businessman threw a pointed glance at a geeky young intern with glasses and braces. "Isn't that right, Aloysius?"

"I get it, Dad." The teenager rolled his eyes.

The salesman folded up the Thneed, and handed it back to Once-ler. "You have potential, but come back when your marketing strategy has improved. Have you ever read The Virtue of Selfishness? I look forward to hearing back from you. In the meantime, have you considered applying to other job options at one of the O'Hare companies?" He handed Once-ler a pamphlet.

Once-ler walked out of the building buzzing with embarrassment. He'd butchered his delivery on his first try. Why was it so easy to sing about Thneeds at his family's farm, in the forest, or the privacy of his wagon? He hadn't expected to start shaking like a leaf the instant he started playing for other people. He needed to practice.

Full story here:

One reason I rewrote the Lorax the way I did was actually because I got annoyed at a book I was reading. Books always give the youngest child the hardest role, which is kind of cliché. But the last straw was that this main character had to help provide for their family. And that just hit a nerve. It's one thing to use the typical trope of 'the oldest got all the attention, but the youngest was ignored' for the millionth time, but why does it always make it seem like the oldest child has no struggles, all while giving their more common struggles to the youngest just to fit a marketing cliche? Anyway, it gave me the urge to write some realistic oldest child representation for once, and it happened to fit the archetype for this story really well. (Kind of a random priority, but I have a lot of random priorities that cause me to write). Sometimes there's just a story where you feel like "okay, wait, wait, stop. I'm the one who actually knows how this really happened though."