High-Five to the Hero

by Vita Murrow

“Hey, who’s that peeping in on us?” someone said.

  “That’s nobody,” Philomena said, lowering her eyes.

  That evening, true to his name and his promise, Slink slunk into the textiles room. As he worked, he sang a little song:

  “Round about, round about,

  My praise Mena foretold!

  Twist away, twist away,

  Turn straw into gold!”

  Before long the straw was a pile of gold ribbon. When the class came in the next day, everyone was in awe.

  “Mena, you are so talented! You simply must do this for our Winter Ball,” her peers crooned.

  “Our crew always does the planning, you have to be on the committee,” they begged.

  Even the principal popped in to admire the work.

  “Yes, Mena, you should be on the committee for the Winter Ball,” he insisted. “All our trustees will be there to see our best and brightest shine.”

  Mena gulped and excused herself to find Slink. He was in an out-of-the-way spot on campus. “Oh, hey, Mena!” he said, perking up. “Did you tell the crew about me? Maybe I could sit at their table at the Winter Ball?”

  “What?! You haven’t really come up yet,” Mena said, bending the truth. “But speaking of the Winter Ball, I need your help again.”

  “Oh, they liked my work!” Slink lit up. “I’ll help you, but promise me this time you’ll talk me up.”

  “I promise,” Mena said.

  Mena arranged for the principal to provide enough straw to deck the halls for the ball. That night she piled the straw high on her work station and headed to bed. Slink snuck in again and sung quietly to himself as he worked his magic.

  “Round about, round about,

  My cool factor they’ll behold!

  Reel away, reel away,

  Turn straw into gold!”

  In the morning, a resounding celebration of the gold was heard throughout the school.

  “Can you believe it!?” the students and teachers exclaimed. “Such artistry! We are so lucky to have a student like Mena.”

  But it wasn’t her glow to bask in, it was Slink’s and he was getting impatient. He cornered Mena by the door to her class, but just then, the cool crew sidled up and Slink was pushed to the side.

  “You won’t believe what the principal has in store!” the students said excitedly to Mena. “He is planning a live performance of your straw-to-gold spinning at the Ball! Once everyone sees your talent, you’ll be the toast of the after party!”

  Mena went pale. Slink went wide eyed. As the cool crew wound off, Slink turned to Mena. “You’re really in a jam this time,” he observed.

  “You think?!” Mena looked at Slink pleadingly.

  Slink shook his head. “After party … that sounds amazing. I’ll help you one last time, but you have to get me into that party,” he said.

  “You’ll be on the guest list, I promise.” Mena assured him. On her way to bed, she popped by the headteacher’s office to secure his spot.

  The night of the Ball arrived. Gold ribbon draped every surface. From chairs to bleachers, columns to mirrors. Everything was adorned in Slink’s handiwork and Mena’s lie. Mena regarded the room with fear, but Slink admired it with pride. He’d done a good thing, he thought. Surely, he would be rewarded with entry into the cool crew.

  When the stage was lit for Mena’s performance, Slink crept beneath the stage. They had arranged for Mena to pass straw through a missing floorboard to Slink, who would then send gold ribbon back up. It was hot and cramped while Slink performed the task. Above, the illusion weighed on Mena too. Her fingers shook and she was drenched in sweat.

  When it was over, Mena expected to feel buoyant with relief, but instead she felt ill. She wanted to go straight to bed, but Slink raced to her side.

  “You promised me,” he reminded Mena.

  So, off they went to the after party. It was held at the king’s palace and the “who’s who” of the kingdom were in attendance. Candlelit chandeliers soared over buffets and drinks bars. Fountains flowed into pools and the whole thing was bordered with cozy seating where the cool crew perched. All that stood between Slink and his place among them was the velvet security rope.

  “Name, please!” barked a guard.

  “Slink,” Slink said hopefully.

  “And Mena, Philomena,” Mena added.

  “Ah right, this way m’lady. Sorry young man, I don’t see you on the list.” The guard held a hand up.

  Slink stood, mouth agape. He glared at Mena. “You didn’t put my name on the list? After what I did for you?!”

  “I did!” Mena cried.

  “I can give you three tries to offer a name listed here,” said the guard. “After that, we have to eject you.”

  Slink wondered why his name wasn’t on the list. Then he realized with alarm. It was his given name that was on the list! The name that would give away his origins as a homesteader. The one that would make him different.

  Slink confronted Mena in front of the growing line of party-goers.

  “You need to get me on that list!” he said.

  Mena held firm. “I told you, I did. I asked the headteacher directly.”

  “I mean you need to get me as Slink on that list,” he explained.

  “But why?” Mena asked.

  “My real name is … embarrassing. It shows I’m a homesteader,” Slink confesssed.

  Heads turned at his words. The cool crew moved from their perch to the entry.

  “See?” Slink said, gesturing at the crowd. “I don’t want to draw attention to that part of me.”

  “Why not? It’s what made you want to help me, even when I let you down,” Mena said. “You don’t need to be afraid to be yourself.”

  The assembled crowd nodded encouragingly. Slink took a deep breath. Maybe Mena was right. “It starts with an R,” he started. The guard scanned the list.

  “RAMONE, RICHMOND, RAFAEL, RORY, RASHEED, RUFUS…”

  “No, it’s… Rumpelstiltskin!” Slink said, his eyes closed against the jeers he feared.

  “Here it is!” said the guard with a smile. “What a distinctive name!”

  “It means ‘gold turner’ in my native language,” Slink explained.

  “What are you saying?” asked a member of the cool crew.

  “He’s saying he’s the one who can turn straw into gold, not me,” Mena confessed, looking at the floor.

  “I’m saying, I’m not hiding my true self anymore,” Slink said with new-found confidence. “And neither should you,” he said, turning to Mena. “You don’t need magic to be accepted. You just need to be yourself.”

  Mena and Slink strode into the party. For the first time, they had nothing to hide.

  King’s Crown school was changed forever. Students mixed freely and were encouraged to bring their unique histories into the classroom. The velvet ropes were cast aside, and all were welcome at the Winter Ball After Party.

  After Slink and Mina graduated, they returned home to share what they had learnt with their hometowns. From time to time, Slink stopped by the mill to teach Mena and her father how to spin straw into gold, with this cheery song and a hint of magic:

  “Round about, round about,

  Let everyone behold!

  Reel away, reel away,

  Don’t hide your inner gold!”

  From time to time, Slink stopped by the mill to teach Mena and her father how to spin straw into gold.

  Jack and the Beanstalk

  Once upon a time, in a quiet row of thatched cottages, there lived a boy named Jack, his two moms, and their cow named Sweet Cream. His parents worked in a nearby town and Jack spent his days tending the garden. Though Jack had a green thumb, it was a lot to take care of and he was often lonely.

  Each morning his parents joined the parade of residents from the lane as they strode off to work. Jack watched them from the window with curiosity. They were all smartly dressed. Many carried leather satchels and gold watches on their way to the
market, and the profitable profession of trading. In the evenings, they’d stream back to the cottages with baskets steaming with warm food and arms filled with new goods to improve their homes and gardens.

  “These are people who can look after their families,” Jack thought aloud to his cow. “This is who I shall become.”

  So, one day when he was old enough, Jack struck out with the commuters to try his hand at the market. He brought his family’s only asset, their cow Sweet Cream.

  At the market it wasn’t easy. Jack felt discouraged. Everyone was trading fancy items, and they already had relationships formed. No one wanted Sweet Cream, and Jack didn’t see how he’d ever be like the other traders. But just as he was about to leave, a stranger approached him.

  “Interested in trading that cow?” the stranger proposed.

  It was Jack’s first opportunity and he didn’t want to miss it. “She’s been in the family a long while, what are you offering?” he said.

  “I will give you five magic beans!” the stranger offered.

  Magic beans, Jack thought. Perhaps this was how things worked. So he nodded, took the magic beans and gave the stranger the cow.

  When he reached home, Jack’s moms were less than impressed.

  “You traded away our cow for some beans?” his mom sighed, while his mama added the beans to the garden seed mix in a planter.

  “Don’t worry, they’re magic!” Jack said hopefully. “They are my first small steps toward a future of new comforts for us.”

  When Jack woke the next day, he saw that a great beanstalk had grown from the magic beans! Jack rushed to climb it. Now he was sure he had made a good trade.

  At the top of the beanstalk Jack’s hopes were confirmed. Before him lay a towering city where everything was bigger. Bigger plants, bigger roads, bigger homes, bigger buildings. There were even much bigger people. They had legs like tree trunks and feet like boats. It appeared he had climbed right into a giant’s realm.

  “Aaah!” gasped Jack. He had heard giants were dangerous and grisly and would grind your bones to make their bread. So he rushed to get out of there. He was just about to scramble down the beanstalk when something caught his eye.

  It was a market stall with a great goose, and the bird had just laid a golden egg. Beside that stood another marvelous stall, packed with instruments including a harp that was singing. Jack saw more stalls with giant foods and garments so big that one sock could cover his whole chimney. At the end of the row of stalls, overflowing bags of coins rested on the ground.

  An idea struck Jack. With just one gold egg he could rise instantly to the top. That thing would trade brilliantly, he thought to himself. Everyone would want it. Then, as if Jack had willed it to happen, a golden egg rolled away from the stall toward him. He caught the egg with a hug. But at just that moment a few giants drew close.

  “Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum,” they sang.

  Jack scrambled down the beanstalk, golden egg in arms. He raced into the cottage, where his folks were beginning their day.

  “You won’t believe it. Those magic beans sprouted a beanstalk that is my shortcut to success!” Jack called out, gesturing up the beanstalk. “You can both retire! I can provide us with everything we need and then some. Aren’t you pleased?”

  “Jack, what are you thinking? There are no short cuts to success,” his mama said. “If you want to work your way up the trader’s track you’ve got to start at the bottom.”

  “But atop the beanstalk is an abundance of amazing things,” Jack persisted, presenting the egg.

  “You can’t take things that don’t belong to you!” his mom asserted, and cast the egg aside.

  Jack didn’t understand. He thought he’d be the provider all his neighbors were.

  “I ought to chop that beanstalk down right now.” Jack’s mom reached for an axe.

  “No, no!” Jack cried and scrambled up the beanstalk to deter her.

  On his return up the beanstalk Jack considered his parents’ words. Maybe he hadn’t illustrated his point well enough. He decided this time he’d bring down something of higher value. What said success better than a singing harp? But this would be a riskier prospect, he’d have to really watch out for the giants.

  Jack made his way to the trading table and surveyed the scene. He wrapped his arms around the harp and slowly slid it toward the beanstalk.

  “I smell trouble!” boomed a voice. (Even though they are so far away from things, giants have an excellent sense of smell).

  “Nah, that just Fugue’s farts. Excuse yourself, Fugue!” another voice replied.

  “I thought I smelled the human world…” the voice trailed off.

  Jack hastened down the beanstalk like he was on a slide. The harp was awakened and it sang out.

  “La la la la laaaaaaaaaa.”

  It was time for the morning commute. Jack’s neighbors noticed the glittering harp and heard the bright voice and took a detour to his garden.

  “Wow, Jack, what market are you playing at?” someone asked.

  “Looks like your folks will be set for life,” another one commented, glancing up at the beanstalk with raised eyebrows.

  Jack stared up at the beanstalk too. With one more acquisition his neighbor would be right, Jack and his family could be set for life. He could provide everything their hearts desired. So that afternoon, while the neighborhood was at work, Jack ventured once more up the beanstalk.

  This time Jack popped up right in the middle of the giant’s marketplace. Terrified, he ducked beneath a table and closed his eyes tight to shut out the horror he anticipated. He imagined rolling heads and drooling monsters. Instead this is what he heard:

  “Grace! Come check out the eggs, there’s one missing!” said a deep voice.

  “Oh T-Bone, I knew it was a bad investment,” a gentle voice lamented.

  “Huh?” thought Jack.

  “There’s that smell again,” a familiar third voice broke into Jack’s thoughts.

  “Yes, I smell it too,” said the giant called Grace.

  “I think it’s coming from under the table,” said the giant called T-Bone.

  The two giants peered under the table and discovered Jack.

  “Just where did you come from?” asked T-Bone with a face as stern as a stone wall.

  “I’m Jack! I live in the world below the beanstalk. Please don’t eat me!” Jack pleaded hastily.

  “Eat you? Why would we eat you? We are fruitarians!” Grace pulled Jack out from under the table.

  “What are you doing up here anyway?” T-Bone pondered.

  “Uh, nothing.” Jack held his hands up in surrender.

  The two giants peered under the table and discovered Jack.

  “What’s that on your hands?” asked Grace, coming in for a closer look.

  “Looks like bits of gold,” observed T-Bone.

  Sure enough, gold dust covered Jack’s hands and dappled his pants. Jack gulped.

  “Well?” the giants asked expectantly.

  “I think a gold harp and a golden egg found its way down the beanstalk,” Jack sort-of confessed.

  “A harp and an egg?” repeated Grace. “Oh no, this means we won’t be able to pay our sales team and they have others, wee ones, old ones, who depend on them.”

  Jack’s error began to sink in. He had stolen to get ahead. But in doing so, he had put someone else behind.

  “Gotta run!” Jack said and he raced for the beanstalk, trembling as he descended. He nearly made it all the way home when he saw a terrible sight. In his very own garden were the golden egg and coins. A crowd of onlookers had assembled, and some were climbing the beanstalk.

  “Stop!” Jack cried out. “Don’t touch those things! Get the axe!”

  Suddenly the beanstalk swayed. Jack looked up and saw the faces of the giants peering down at him from above.

  “Is that our egg down there?” wondered Grace.

  “Is that our harp?” questioned T-Bone.

  “It’s not w
hat you think,” Jack pleaded. “Well … it is what you think, but I’ll give them back.”

  “Why ever did you take them?” T-Bone asked.

  “It looked like an opportunity to get ahead quickly. To take care of my parents,” Jack admitted.

  “I know that pressure,” T-Bone reflected. “I have a lot of people looking to me to keep them well cared for, when really I’d rather just play that harp!”

  “Really?” said Grace, looking surprised. “We can make that happen, T. You shouldn’t feel like you have to carry a heavier load than anyone else. No one should.”

  “I can chop down the stalk and you’ll never have to see us again,” Jack offered. Jack’s neighbors and family waited with bated breath.

  “No, wait, what is growing in your garden there?” T-Bone inquired.

  “Just fruits and veggies,” Jack said honestly.

  “They look fantastic,” T-Bone commented. “How’d you like to try an honest trade. You keep the items you took, and we get fresh produce from the garden. It’d be a real treasure to us.”

  The assembled party in Jack’s garden all nodded. His parents put down the axes and both nodded and so Jack nodded too.

  “Congratulations!” everyone cheered.

  “Looks like you can be both a fine trader and a fine gardener,” Jack’s mom observed.

  “But in this family, we provide for one another, not just one person for all the others,” his mama added.

  Grace interrupted the merriment. “Looks like we have a deal. Come on up and let’s shake on it.” And with that Grace and T-Bone reached down from the clouds. Jack climbed up to meet them and gave their giant hands a gentle squeeze.

  The beanstalk stayed up as a monument to the new trade relations between Jack and the giants. Jack returned his focus to his true passion as a gardener. His favorite days were market days, when he’d hoist a fresh harvest up to the giants’ realm. T-Bone would play the harp beautifully, and Jack could see that delivering on one’s own dream was the best thing you could provide to those you loved.

  Quasimodo

  Once upon a time, a grand temple stood at the heart of a sunny city. The temple was an architectural marvel made up of two towers resting on a great stone platform, which in turn rested on many flights of stairs, so that the whole thing could overlook a beautiful lake and town center. It was embellished with animated carvings of amazing creatures. The temple functioned as a community center, a place of learning and—most importantly—a sanctuary where people could go when they needed help.