by Cameron Jace
“Push the button, Draco,” I said enthusiastically. “Or they will get you. They love to kill vampires.”
An incredibly victorious and pompous smile drew itself on Dracula’s face when he pushed the button, decapitating his first zombie.
“Feels good, eh?” I said. “Just like your first—“ I was going to say kiss, but didn’t know if her were capable of that.
“Off with their heads!” He yelled at the screen.
“Don’t say that, please,” I shook my head. “That’s not your department. These words belong to the Red Queen.” I followed, wondering if there were zombies in Wonderland. Why did the Red Queen repeatedly say: off with their head? Hmm.
He didn’t comment. He was so into the game as if I weren’t in the room anymore.
“I thought so,” I said under my breath as I walked out. “Every child’s dream is to push a button and kill imaginary friends.”
Out in the hall, the Queen was tapping her glass shoes on the marble floor of my castle. Those must have been Cinderella’s shoes, but I didn’t want to know.
As arrogant and evil that the Queen posed, she still took my breath away with her beauty. Even though I knew her beauty was fed with young girl’s blood, the Queen was one of the few reasons that made me consider growing up.
“My Queen,” I nodded as I approached my desk in the hall. It was cut from the most precious oaken trees, the shape of a liver. The Lost Boys liked those tables when we used to have food fights in Neverland. “What an unpleasant surprise.” I greeted her with a big smile on my face.
“I see you have gotten yourself a large castle in Transylvania,” She looked around, avoiding my insult. She was good at making me feel invisible sometimes. “That’s Dracula’s castle, isn’t it?”
“You guys only wake up once every one hundred years while I sit here waiting for you forever,” I tucked my knife in a small belt around my waist. “I intend to live large every minute of the boring one hundred years waiting for some of you,” I stopped, checking her out again. “Of course, you’re not one of those I wait for.”
“But why?” She smirked, as she noticed the way I looked at her. She pulled her chin up a notch. “Aren’t you a lucky little bastard, living forever, not growing up, and not affected by the Brothers Grimm’s curse?”
“I smell envy,” I sniffed the air like a rabbit. “I don’t belong to your department. I am a proudly mentioned by Sir James Mathew Barrie, and I don’t live until the Grimm’s umbrella. Should I remind you that Barrie was a Sir?”
“From what I know about you, Peter, he buried some serious secrets about you too in his books. I wonder why?”
“He might have, but he didn’t curse me.”
“He might not have cursed you. But you are cursed with your love with one of us.” She looked straight into my eyes.
I couldn’t utter a word. I was guilty as charged. Hadn’t I fallen in love with Sleeping Beauty, I wouldn’t have been pulled into all this drama with Snow White in 1912.
Silence roars in the room.
“So how’s your Neverland?” The Queen interrupted the silence ith another insult. “Did you kidnap enough children to occupy it and rebuild it?”
“Why are you here?” I asked firmly, ignoring her question. “You wouldn’t be here unless something is wrong with your daughter. Last time we met, you said you got hold of her, so she can’t hurt any of us.” I did consider myself one of them when it came to the Snow White dilemma. Sleeping Beauty was one of them, and Snow White could hurt her.
“I did,” The Queen nodded, and approached my desk as I sat chewing on an unlit Cuban cigar. “But there is still a possibility she could wake up again, and end the world we live in.”
“What?” I refused to allow my heart racing faster. I am not going to get scared by that little pale princess. I am Peter Pan. “Didn’t you say you got hold of her. All that we went through in 1912, and we still have to worry about her?”
“That’s why I need your help.”
“Oh,” My Auburn eyes widened while I took a drag from my unlit cigar and puffed invisible smoke into the air. “The Queen of Sorrow needs my help, Again?” I teased her.
“Do you have to be topless when you talk to me?” She averted from commenting on my implication, as always. “It’s not like you have a six pack or something. You’re just a wiry tall boy.”
“Beautiful boy,” I corrected her. “I know I turn on girls my age. But is it possible that I make the Queen of Sorrow uncomfortable with my beauty? Mirror mirror.”
“Gimme a break, please.” She waved her hand, covered in white gloves. Gosh, the way she waved her hand; so elegant, so attractive. The Queen was made of fabulousness, awesomeness, and majesticness – I think there is no such word. If you didn’t like it, sue me.
“Did I ever tell you that you make me want to grow up?” I said, leaning back in my chair then stretching my legs on the desk. “But then again, you’ve been more into girls than boys lately.”
“Peter,” She bowed her head as she slammed her palms on the desk, staring at me with those piercing eyes. “Stop playing games or—“
“Or what?” I teased her more, unable to take my eyes off her. No wonder her daughter used the same kind of charms to seduce her victims. “Are you going to turn me into a frog?” I croaked then laughed. My voice echoed in the castle. I could hear Hunchy chuckle somewhere in the dark.
“I don’t have time to turn anyone. It is faster to kill.” She said.
Her anger was vicious yet sweet. Some girls made me want to rest my head on their legs. The Queen made me want to die in her arms. Wicked. Before I let her see me shrug, I grabbed another apple and took a bite. “Hmm,” I loved the taste of apples. “Apples?” I offered, stretching out my arm, almost too close to her royal nose. “They are not poisonous. Cross ma heart.” I grinned.
The Queen neglected my sarcasm as usual. I hated when she made me feel so small like a useless fly, buzzing around the halls of my castle. No matter how high it fluttered, no one gave a damn. I bet that if I had parents, they would have made me feel the same.
“Why don’t you offer him some apples,” She straightened up, laughing at a huge poster of Sean Connery on the wall behind me. “Why do you have this poster here? It so blows up the gothic/fairytales feel of this castle."
“Oh, James Bond?” I tilted my head. “It’s a Scottish thing. You wouldn’t understand. You’re a Grimm. I am a Barrie.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She said without looking at me, emptying a sack onto the desk. “Don’t get me started, making fun of the author who created you. This Barrie of yours.”
“I hate to correct you again. You mean Sir James Mathew Barrie.” I insisted as I picked up a pipe from my desk after I threw away my cigar. Of course, the pipe didn’t work.
“Easy with your smoking habits,” She mocked me. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“You’re totally right,” I pretended to cough heavily. “Where in the world would I be without you—“
“Shut up and look.” She pointed at the items she emptied on my desk.
“So that’s why you are here,” I rubbed my chin, looking at the seven items on my desk:
A fork, a plate, a mug, breadcrumbs, a chair, a knife, and some magical beans.
“Remember those?” She wondered.
“Who wouldn't? Isn’t this the part when the seven dwarfs come back from work to their cottage and keep asking, ‘who drank from cup’ and ‘who slept in my bed’ and so on?” I squeaked the last part.
“Dwarves my butt.”
“Yeah. I forgot you like that phrase.”
“Because they weren’t dwarves. They were the Lost Seven who had helped her.”
“So why are you obsessed with the Lost Seven?”
“Don’t you get it?” She sighed. “They were the ones with her in the cottage. They were the ones who helped her escape two hundred years ago.”
“So what?” I swooshed the
unfinished apple into the garbage. Basketball style. I am amazing. “Didn’t you say you got hold of her? I don’t want to know what you have done to her, but I take your word for it that she can’t hurt us for the next hundred years.”
“Not if she finds them,” The Queen shrugged. “Or if they find her.”
“Good point,” I considered. “So why are they so important, again?”
“There is a secret, a puzzle, that each one of them holds a clue to it.”
“And I assume you’re not going to tell me what that secret is, of course.” I said, fiddling with the breadcrumbs on my desk.
“You know how this works, Peter. The only thing that makes us on the same side is that we want to get rid of her. Other than that, I could not care less about you and your Wonderland.”
“It’s Neverland, my Queen,” I plastered a fake smile on my lips. “Wonderland is someone else’s department. What's with everone confusing his roles today?”
“Wonderland, Neverland, and Disneyland. They are all childish names for places I hate the most,” She said. “Now listen, I need you to tell me what every item means to you.”
“Hmm. Did you say that each item belonged to a fairy tale character?”
“That’s what I think,” She pointed at the breadcrumbs. “Who do you think the breadcrumbs belong to?”
“That’s a silly question, my Queen. Where there are breadcrumbs, there are Hansel and Gretel.”
“And a witch.” The Queen said.
“And a witch,” I agreed. This woman thought everything over. I always thought she could use a weekend in the sun and do something nerdy, so she would relax. The thought made me remember Count Dracula playing Zombie Attack on my Xbox inside the chamber. I wondered if he broke my high score record. I killed 4000 zombies with one thumb once. “But why would a witch help Snow White?”
“Good point.” She said.
“Besides, weren’t you the witch in the Hansel and Gretel thing? I’ve always thought all bad characters were only a personification of you.” I started chewing a peach-flavored gum. I liked those.
“Funny funny,” She mocked me. Finally, she didn’t neglect my sarcasm. “So you know where Hansel and Gretel are, or if they still know who they are?”
“It’s going to be hard to find Gretel. She’s been into witchcraft herself, and probably lives with some Voodoo cult or something. As much as I love her, she’s become pretty cuckoo in the head lately. I guess that after she had saved her brother from the witch, she lost it.”
“And Hansel?”
“I don’t think Hansel is one of them. He is a dependent and useless boy who is hungry all the time. Had his sister not been saving him repeatedly, he would have been dead by now. Believe me, the breadcrumbs belong to Gretel. She was obsessed with Snow White when we were in school. She adored your daughter. But I can’t help you with finding her.” I said, checking my watch. It was almost midnight. I had an appointment with my love at midnight, but I wouldn’t tell the Queen.
“And the fork?” The queen held a silver fork in front of her. It was rather fancy for a sixteen-year-old fairy tale character.
“Where there is a fork, there is a devil.” I mused, intentionally turning my Auburn eyes into black.
“You don’t scare me, Peter. Try that with the kids you kidnap every night.”
Her words made me look over her shoulder in the direction of another chamber in my castle, next to the one where I locked Count Dracula. It was where I kept the kids locked in a cage. In a couple of days, these homeless kids will be sent to Neverland. If the real world was tough on them, it was time they enjoyed the other wonderful realms in Dreamworld. “I have a Neverland to build,” I winked at her. “It needs a lot of kids.”
“Whateva,” The Queen waved her hands in the air, showing expensive bracelets and jewelry wrapped around her wrist. “So you seriously think the fork belongs to a devil?”
“Or a devil’s son,” I raised a single eyebrow. “Or daughter, or even his cook will do. How the hell should I know? Did you ever meet a devil in a fairy tale?"
“It depends on what fairy tale you are talking about. The true ones or the false?”
“In that case, I can’t help. You will have to dig deeper in the matter. And what is that?” I picked up one of the seven items: a plate.
“This one is most confusing,” She said. “I don’t remember the significance of a plate in any of the tales. Do you have a clue?”
“Of course,” I said as I took out the gum from my mouth and glued it to the plate. I had no idea why I did that, but it seemed like a cool thing to do. Gums, if not in your mouth, belonged on plates or the wood of your desk at school. “NOT!”
“Don’t vandalize the plate,” The Queen looked irritated. “These items are worth millions. If I can’t find the Lost Seven, I can bargain with higher demons in the Dreamworld with these items.”
I jumped off my desk and stretched out, neglecting her obsession with controlling everything. I put my hand behind my neck and stretched out my body, showing off the beauty of my lean and slender curves, wanting to get her attention. She really made me want to grow up. But then, I had to resist growing up. Growing up sucks. That’s why I never liked our meetings. She messed with my head.
To clear my head, I had to occupy myself with something, as she kept asking questions. I clapped my hands twice, and the dim lit hall of the castle shone brighter with magical fireflies, tons of them. The queen squinted at the sudden brightness in the hall.
“Hunchy,” I summoned. “Basketball, please.” I demanded.
“What? You have a basketball court in the Dracula mansion?” She looked insulted, reminding me of parents always being mad at their children for just being children.
A rainbow-colored basketball came dribbling out of the dark towards me. Hunchy couldn’t help but add some creepy and scary atmosphere.
“Continue, my Queen. I am all ears.” I said, dribbling the ball. It was a magic basketball. It made no sound.
The Queen sighed impatiently, but she knew that I didn’t care. If I got bored, I had to find something to play with. “All right. What about this piece of wood I found along with the items in the cottage. It looks like it’s part of a chair.”
“Where there is wood, there is a woodpecker.” I said.
The Queen looked puzzled.
“I am just joking,” I swooshed the ball in. “Frankly. I don’t know. However, this piece of wood doesn’t look like it belongs to a chair to me. It looks like someone’s nose.” I winked at her.
“What? No way. Pinocchio is not even a fairy tale character.”
“He is not even human if you ask me,” I flew high up the ceiling and landed down with another swoosh. I tried not to show off with my flying abilities too much. It made two-legged human uncomfortable. “I got you again, my Queen.” I winked at her.
“This isn’t funny, Peter,” She gritted her teeth. “I need to have at least one clue to start from. What about this mug? And don’t say it’s the holy grail.”
I stopped the ball, looking at the mug. It was a glass mug, and it definitely caught my attention. “A glass mug,” I recited, rubbing my basketball.
“So you’re thinking what I am thinking? Cinderella?”
“Not everything that is glass is Cinderella,” I said. “Her item should be a glass slipper not cup. But it still looks suggestive to me.”
“I always knew that this little peasant girl had something to do with my daughter.”
“Even though it does not make sense that Cinderella was one of her friends in the cottage, I heard that you actually manageded to kill her in the Dreamworld.”
“I did,” The Queen mused proudly. “But someone is bringing her back.”
“How is that possible? I understand that once an immortal is killed in the Dreamworld, they can’t be resurrected.”
“It’s true, but there is a nagging human girl who found out a way to rebirth the dead.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, Pete,” She sighed impatiently. “Somehow, this nagging girl entered Cinderella’s mother Dreamworld and replayed the birth scene again so that Cinderella is reborn from dreams.”
“Cinderella has a mother?” Ok. That was a shallow question. “So tell me how this works?”
“Every hundred years when we surface to the real world, we could trick each other into playing the old tales again. If done right, you can bring the tale upside down, which means if Cinderella was dead, and you entered a certain dream and manipulated her mother into rebirthing her, she becomes alive.”
“Oh,” I scratched my temple. “You mean the Dreamworld is like a movie scene that you can replay every one hundred years?”
“Close,” She nodded. “And if you play the cards right, that movie becomes the truth for the hundred years after.”
“Pretty damn confusing, I must say.”
“Do you understand why I am looking for the Lost Seven now? If I find them before Snow White does, I can rewrite the new truth in the Dreamworld my way. So, do you still think this is Cinderella’s mug?”
“Second thoughts, it’s doesn’t have to be?” I dribbled and walked closer to her. “I think it is not about the mug. It’s about what was in the mug.”
The Queen’s face shone brighter. “That’s the first thing you say that makes sense. The mug might have been filled with a potion, a drink, or any other item that could lead me to its owner. But how can I know?”
“Can’t help you with that,” I said, turned around, and swooshed again. Damn, that was brilliant. “Which brings us to the magic beans,” I said impatiently. I wanted her out of my castle before midnight. “I don’t remember the dwarves in the book talking about magic beans.”
“Remember the phrase, ’Who ate my vegetables?” Beans are vegetables.” The Queen explained.
“Oh. Then that’s an easy one. Who else has magic beans in his pockets all the time?” I cocked my head happily.
“Jack,” The Queen mumbled. “That little crook.”
“He is a thief and a crook, but he is very lovable.”