Page 208 of Naughty Nelle

I suspend my wand in mid-air and take a bow to signal my act is over. There’s no applause whatsoever. Only dead silence. Everyone in the room is in a trance. My little chant has worked like magic. To be honest, it was more fun putting people to sleep this way than with a poison apple. It’s time to knock Snow White off her pedestal. Mirror, mirror, I’m coming home!

I take one last look at the dozing group of inmates and staffers. An unexpected melancholy descends on me. I’m going to miss this motley crew of losers and monsters. Especially Elz and Winnie. Maybe one day, we’ll see each other again.

Enough. There’s no more time to reflect. I’ve got to stick to the plan and leave while they’re all still asleep. Tossing my “magic” wand, I leap into the air and take flight.

Flying is not as easy as it looks. Or as fun. Because the moon is a mere sliver, it’s hard to see anything in the dark of the night. I’m also not used to avoiding things like treetops, stars, and flying objects. I almost crash into an oncoming bat and narrowly miss catching my wings on the tip of a tree branch.

Finally, I get the flying thing down. And because I studied my map, I have some sense of where I’m going. Good. I can see the fortress wall in the distance. It’s just beyond The Enchanted Forest. All I have to do is get past that stupid armed giant at the gate, and I’ll be free!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a blast of heat scorches my backside. A shooting star? A thunderous roar tells me this is not a cosmic phenomenon. I twist my neck and look behind me. My eyes make contact with a pair of angry, yellow, glow-in-the-dark ones. Two outstretched wings that must span fifty feet flap as madly as my heart. A monstrous, fire-breathing dragon is after me!

Unable to fly any faster, I zigzag across the night sky, hoping to lose the beast. Or at least tire it. No luck. The dragon chases me in hot pursuit. Panic sets in as the monster gains ground on me. It lets out another fierce roar. Something’s burning. Oh no! My wings have caught fire! I’m doomed.

My high-speed flying is reduced to a crawl. Then to a dead halt. Fanta’s magical wings have completely lost their powers. The dragon flies away, satisfied with its victory, as I tailspin toward the earth.

This was so not part of the plan. My life is over. I squeeze my eyes closed, not wanting to see the ugly end. A loud, ripping sound jolts them open. My crash-and-burn fall has been intercepted by a tree limb. Hanging by the sleeve of my dress, I’m dangling like an ornament on a Christmas tree. Fanta’s wings, now smoldering, are mere gossamers of what they once were.

How am I going to get down? A thought. Maybe if I shout out to that giant guard Gulliver, he’ll hear me. I bet he’ll be able to reach up and bring me down to safety. A strange splintering sound steals my attention. Crack! Crack! Snap! The tree branch is breaking off. Just when I thought I could smell freedom, I’m freefalling to Earth, clinging to a branch. For the second time tonight, I can kiss my life good-bye…

Or not. I land hard on a soft pile of compost. What good luck! And thank goodness for all my padding. I’m sore all over, but otherwise okay. I pick myself up, wipe off the yucky mulch, and yank off my tattered wings. They’re of no further use. I have no choice but to travel by foot.

When I take my first step, a sharp pain shoots up my right ankle. I wince. I must have sprained it. If this is nature’s way of stopping me, forget it. I break off a limb of the branch. Using it as crutch, I take off.

Despite my injury, I hobble through the dark forest with its monstrous trees and unknown sounds at astonishing speed. My childhood fears have come back to haunt me, so the quicker I can get out of here the better. My eyes dart left and right, watchful for thorny branches that will whip themselves around me, evil spirits who will jump out from nowhere and attack me, and that fire-breathing dragon. Who knows where it’s lurking. Fighting the pain in my foot, I pick up my pace.

At last, I reach the guardhouse. Gulliver waves to me. I hold my breath.

“Why good evening, Fanta. What brings you here?” he asks.

Either he’s dumber than he sounds or I’m a genius. Whatever it is, I’ve fooled him. He thinks I’m Fanta!

“Oh, I thought I’d take a little stroll.” I falter for an excuse. “You know, it gets so claustrophobic being inside that castle.”

The giant gawks at me. My heart hammers. Maybe he doesn’t understand the word “claustrophobic.” Worse, maybe he’s questioning my Fanta voice. It ultimately doesn’t matter. He unlocks the gate with a large metal key and lets me out. “Have a nice walk,” he says and then relocks the gate.

Yes! I’m out. Free at last! I want to jump for joy. But wait! The drawbridge is up! I can’t cross over to Lalaland! My body pulsates with anger and frustration. What am I going to do? Don’t panic. Think, Jane! Think!

My pulse rate slows down, and my emotions settle. I survey the dark, swampy moat. It’s about a half-mile wide. I have no choice. I know what I have to do. Jump into it and swim across to the other side. I’m a strong swimmer. I can do it! I’ve got to!

Wasting no time, I toss my makeshift crutch and dive into the black, stagnant water. It feels thick and warm like a blanket, but the stench is nauseating. A few minutes into my swim, a massive, rancid blob of flesh and fur assaults me. A monster! I frantically wrestle the muddy beast until I realize it’s only a dead boar. As dead as the boar whose heart The Huntsman stole. It floats away, and I swim on.

With each sludge-squeezing stroke, I grow more fatigued. Every muscle is cramping from the strain. Finally, I reach land. Heaving, I drag myself out of the muck and struggle to my feet. Dripping wet with scum, I stink. I’m exhausted. And I’m in agony. But I’m free. Really free! At last! Next stop: a real spa for a little beautification and then home to my castle. And my magic mirror.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice, a familiar one, startles me. I spin around and face a strapping, bearded man with unforgettable green eyes. The Huntsman! What’s he doing here?

There’s no way I’m letting him get in the way of my freedom this time with all I’ve been through. I make a run for it, hobbling as fast as I can. The Huntsman races after me. Every step is more painful than the one before, but pure willpower keeps me moving. The crunching sound of his heavy footsteps grows fainter. He must be losing steam. I run faster. Suddenly, I find myself tumbling to the ground; something—a rock?—has tripped me. As I scramble to get up, The Huntsman tackles me from behind. Kicking and screaming, I try desperately to free myself from his grip. I’m no match for his brutal strength.

Holding me down with the weight of his body, he pulls something out from his satchel.

My eyes widen. It’s his two-foot knife, and he’s pointing it my way!

“How would you like me to cut out your heart?” he breathes down my throat.

“Ha! You don’t have the courage.” I spit at him.

I’m wrong. Dead wrong. Without blinking an eye, I watch him lower the blade to my chest. Fear grips my insides. My life is over. This time for sure. I squeeze my eyes shut. An image of myself as a child reaching out to my mother flashes into my mind. They say you never know what you’ll see when you’re about to die.

One, two, three…I’m counting the seconds to my last breath. On the count of four, I’m yanked to a standing position.

The Huntsman throws me over his broad shoulders. “You belong at Faraway.”

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