In the Valley

“Do you want it or not?” the little girl asked. She was dressed like Little Bo Peep in an old-fashioned, full-skirted pink monstrosity of a dress, but instead of a shepherd’s crook she held a pitch fork.

Annie certainly wasn’t in Kansas anymore. “Yes, I do want it.” She had no idea what it was, but so far everyone she’d seen while wandering through this fairytale valley had asked if she wanted it, and if she said yes, she was given directions forward. She was glad she’d made it to the valley, which was mostly full of flowers and girls weeping and the occasional charge of the light brigade. The forest had been less pleasant, with lost children wandering, cottages made of candy, little girls in red cloaks talking to anthropomorphic wolves, and seven little men who brandished their pickaxes at her.

The little girl beamed and twirled the pitchfork like an expert spear fighter. She traced a complicated pattern in the air that ended with the pitchfork pointed over her shoulder along the valley floor.

“If you can find the yellow brick road - it’s a little hidden under Aurora’s thorns, because Prince Philip was a little rushed during the most recent rescue - then follow it until you reach a trail of bread crumbs. Those should take you past the Two Brothers’ houses, and from there you should follow the raven to the gates of horn and ivory. Tell the Wyvern you seek audience with the Dream King, and he’ll give you what you want.”

Annie nodded, trying not to snicker at the thought of Prince Philip thundering down the Yellow, and suddenly it hit her, full-force between the eyes. The entire valley stretched out before her, and yet she could see it all, every blade of grass, every brick in the road, each tangle of thorns that choked at the path, a pair of houses - one neat, the other cluttered - and then it all ended at a gate.

The gate.

Of ivory and horn.

Annie took the first step forward.

(344 words)