GUYS, IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 8 is up!

EXCERPT:

He'd finally become such a joke to the townsfolk, it seemed they'd entirely forgotten he was human.

Instead of just tomatoes, the grocer volunteered wheelbarrows of spoiled produce that some teenagers mixed with glass and rocks. A particularly well aimed stone knocked out a tooth as he was belting out his favorite jingle:

"The Thneed is good, the Thneed is grea—YOW!"

Once-ler usually didn't stop for anything, but the taste of blood made him drop his guitar on his foot. This hurt even worse, so he sprang up and down. The guitar bounced onto the concrete while the crowd laughed and cheered.

Once-ler didn't get a chance to see if the instrument had broken, because, in a fit of enthusiasm, the mean little girl with red hair ensured this was the case. She smashed it on the ground with the second worst noise Once-ler had ever heard.

A tomato landed in his stunned face, but he didn't even feel it. He just watched open-mouthed as fruits and vegetables pelted him and the girl stomped on the pieces, giggling with her parents who stood back and watched.

"Alright, sweetie, that's enough, we have to get to Grandma's house," the mother finally told her. She smiled and pulled out a big bag of chocolate-coated pretzels for her daughter as they walked away.

Once-ler's last shred of optimism finally evaporated. After his father had passed away, the guitar had been the only good memory he'd had from home.

"THAT'S IT!" he roared. "I've had enough!" He stormed from the gazebo with tears in his eyes.

Only the baker looked slightly sympathetic. She twisted a strand of curly brown hair around her finger as he strode past.

"Is this really the way to treat a stranger?!" he heard her yell at the grocer.

"Oh, come on, Norma, he's just a self-centered out-of-towner." The grocer sounded slightly abashed.

Once-ler turned to see Norma stomp her foot. "I know he is, and I know that piece of junk he's selling looks like a wadded up piece of bubblegum with hairs stuck in it, but you just gotta understand! Homeless mentally ill folks need to be shown charity..."

Her words just infuriated Once-ler more. "My family was right. I quit!" He ripped the Thneed from his neck, and accidentally whipped the baker in the face as he threw it away. It knocked off her glasses, which fell to the ground and shattered. Oops.

He walked away faster. Luckily his long legs took him back to the forest before anyone could call the police.

Chapter 12

Once-ler turns evil. Gets dark at the end. Read the whole thing on Ao3. Excerpt:

It was nice when he could get a second guitar without even thinking about it. Perhaps even nicer than it would have been to someone who didn't have heartbreaking memories of always being told his parents couldn't afford a good one for him. After all, hadn't it been just the other day he'd asked for one on his eighth birthday in front of the music store window and gotten tears in his eyes when his dad told him no?

He didn't have any memories of clothes-shopping as a child either. All he'd gotten was hand-me-downs for short people from his church's charity drives. Surely other people had always gotten measured at tailors to get jackets and trousers of the highest quality to fit them perfectly. This, of course, justified the exorbitant bill when he bought a new designer wardrobe complete with extra tall top hats in his favorite black and bright green colors.

It turned out, the world was full of things he'd never been able to appreciate before he'd had money:

Clothes, drinks, cars, trips, events. There were so many more opportunities when you weren't just a poor helpless urchin…

He would never go back to being poor. Never. He was even worse than his Ma, after a short time.

"Oncie, don't ya think maybe we could take a day off to have a family picnic and celebrate the end of summer like in the old days?" she said to him one day.

Once-ler looked up from the photos he was studying for a new billboard advertisement. He'd almost settled on what he thought was a charismatic picture of himself with his arms spread wide and an eye-popping grin on his face, though Brett had remarked it made him look rather possessed.

"Ha!" He slammed down the photos. "You mean the old days when we were poor and miserable? Why don't we take the whole week off and have a real party? Or better yet, a month-long tropical vacation?"

His Ma blinked. "Sounds real nice, honey, but who's gonna run the company? Didn't you just get back from a cruise? Ain't ya gettin' just a little too extravagant these days?"

"Who cares? I'm rich! We got a million employees now. Besides I deserve it cuz of all the sufferin' I went through before."

This excuse got less impressive by the day as Once-ler's new luxuries quickly outweighed any misery he'd previously endured. His identity as a lower class citizen faded even more quickly from his own memory and personality than it did into the past.

"I'm so glad that in the last year I was finally able to discover the real me," was something he'd told everyone in his family more than once since they'd returned. It never occurred to him that what he meant was: "I'm so glad I finally have money to do whatever I want without any consequences."

***

2nd excerpt:

"I just wanted to tell you, the Barbaloots are dying."

Something got through the iron-clad self absorption that had enclosed Once-ler for the last few months. He was surrounded by terrible people all the time now, but when harm fell upon innocent creatures, it was different. He remembered the little Barbaloot that had given him a hug after the fiasco in the river.

"What do you mean dying? How can they be… Surely they're not actually dying ?"

"There was something in the water that made 'em sick. Something from your factory that set in quick. It's making 'em not move and lay around. And some of 'em…" There were tears in the Lorax's eyes. "Some of 'em ain't gettin' up from the ground."

READ THE FULL THING ON AO3!!!

Do you ever feel like life would be easier if you weren't a creative person who was always inspired to do things you're not supposed to be doing?

Lorax Novelization Excerpt

Nobody ever really writes about Once-ler's life on the farm. I imagined he had to help support his family and fight for the chance to study by making a space in the barn or something. I think that would've been more relatable. Excerpt below.

Only one evening did Once-ler's Ma visit the barn out of curiosity to ask what he was doing.

"Wow," she said, when she saw what he'd done to the place.

It was practically an office now, with books stuffed into barrels and crates, one of the stalls made entirely into a library with shelves and a file cabinet. Blue prints and charts were taped to the walls and ceiling, with even more piles stacked around the floor. The big drafting table took up the wall facing the door, with magnificent designs pinned to the drawing board. In the corner Once-ler's well-loved guitar rested in a safe spot underneath the hayloft. This had been transformed into a comfortable out-of-the-way bedroom and changing area with a mattress, a neat basket of folded clothes and a curtain.

"Wow, you really have it good, Oncie," she told him. "And we don't even make you pay rent. You got this whole place to yourself while we're all crammed together in that little cottage. Brett and Chet sure don't get anythin' like this!"

She didn't mention that Brett and Chet never took the initiative to work for anything like it.

"And taking all my yarn!" she said, noticing what he'd swiped from her supply and turned into a mass of unidentifiable shapes. She tapped her foot. “Have you ever considered moving out?"

"Actually… I would love to now that hard times have come to an end." Once-ler spun around, and twirled one of the pink blobs of yarn around on his finger. "In fact, I'm almost ready to go and sell my invention. I just need to find something better than this cheap yarn to make it with."

(Read the whole story on Ao3)

Necessity of Creativity

Chapter 12

Once-ler turns evil. Gets dark at the end. Read the whole thing on Ao3. Excerpt:

It was nice when he could get a second guitar without even thinking about it. Perhaps even nicer than it would have been to someone who didn't have heartbreaking memories of always being told his parents couldn't afford a good one for him. After all, hadn't it been just the other day he'd asked for one on his eighth birthday in front of the music store window and gotten tears in his eyes when his dad told him no?

He didn't have any memories of clothes-shopping as a child either. All he'd gotten was hand-me-downs for short people from his church's charity drives. Surely other people had always gotten measured at tailors to get jackets and trousers of the highest quality to fit them perfectly. This, of course, justified the exorbitant bill when he bought a new designer wardrobe complete with extra tall top hats in his favorite black and bright green colors.

It turned out, the world was full of things he'd never been able to appreciate before he'd had money:

Clothes, drinks, cars, trips, events. There were so many more opportunities when you weren't just a poor helpless urchin…

He would never go back to being poor. Never. He was even worse than his Ma, after a short time.

"Oncie, don't ya think maybe we could take a day off to have a family picnic and celebrate the end of summer like in the old days?" she said to him one day.

Once-ler looked up from the photos he was studying for a new billboard advertisement. He'd almost settled on what he thought was a charismatic picture of himself with his arms spread wide and an eye-popping grin on his face, though Brett had remarked it made him look rather possessed.

"Ha!" He slammed down the photos. "You mean the old days when we were poor and miserable? Why don't we take the whole week off and have a real party? Or better yet, a month-long tropical vacation?"

His Ma blinked. "Sounds real nice, honey, but who's gonna run the company? Didn't you just get back from a cruise? Ain't ya gettin' just a little too extravagant these days?"

"Who cares? I'm rich! We got a million employees now. Besides I deserve it cuz of all the sufferin' I went through before."

This excuse got less impressive by the day as Once-ler's new luxuries quickly outweighed any misery he'd previously endured. His identity as a lower class citizen faded even more quickly from his own memory and personality than it did into the past.

"I'm so glad that in the last year I was finally able to discover the real me," was something he'd told everyone in his family more than once since they'd returned. It never occurred to him that what he meant was: "I'm so glad I finally have money to do whatever I want without any consequences."

***

2nd excerpt:

"I just wanted to tell you, the Barbaloots are dying."

Something got through the iron-clad self absorption that had enclosed Once-ler for the last few months. He was surrounded by terrible people all the time now, but when harm fell upon innocent creatures, it was different. He remembered the little Barbaloot that had given him a hug after the fiasco in the river.

"What do you mean dying? How can they be… Surely they're not actually dying ?"

"There was something in the water that made 'em sick. Something from your factory that set in quick. It's making 'em not move and lay around. And some of 'em…" There were tears in the Lorax's eyes. "Some of 'em ain't gettin' up from the ground."

READ THE FULL THING ON AO3!!!

Does anyone else use Read Aloud apps to listen to their writing after they finish it? I usually like to listen to it a few times before I post it.

Chapter 7 (The Wrath of Nature) is up. Excerpt below:

(This specific scene was one of the main reasons I wanted to rewrite the movie).

"If you meant no harm, then why did you put my bed in a river?!"

"I didn't mean harm, my touch was light, a gentle breeze, for the softest flight. I merely meant to float you away, to a land of dreams, to another day."

"ARE YOU STUPID?!" Once-ler exploded. "I FIND THAT VERY HARD TO BELIEVE! OF COURSE THAT WAS A DANGEROUS IDEA! And you're telling me you didn't know there was a waterfall there when you're supposed to be the all-knowing Guardian of the Forest?!"

The Lorax was speechless, caught in his lies. "Remember your promise, I'll hold you to it now. In the river you swore and made a vow."

"I said that because you were threatening my life. Do you really think you've accomplished anything?"

"Hear this important plea, loud and clear," said the Lorax. 'Everyone needs the trees that are here! 'We need the wood,' the voices cry, 'To live and stay, or else we'll die.'"

Once-ler felt a speck of pity when he realized the Lorax really was that dumb. In his simple mind he’d really thought his plan to blackmail Once-ler into a promise was going to guarantee the safety of his sacred Truffula Trees. Typical fey creature.

"Okay, that's it." Once-ler finally grabbed the Lorax by the scruff of his neck. "You've manipulated and tricked me. You've tried to kill me. Let's have this out once and for all. I refuse to be bullied out of this forest. If you can actually give me a logical explanation for why I shouldn't cut down the trees, then I'll stop. How bad can this really be, huh?"

"Fine, have it your way, we'll talk, indeed," the Lorax said. "But know I'm earnest, and please take heed."

"Fine."

Once-ler dropped the Lorax onto a stump, where he stood up straight and cleared his throat. He said in a meaningful voice:

"You think you can chop down whatever you please. But everyone here needs the trees."

"That's too vague," said Once-ler at once. "You have to explain what problem it causes, so we can figure out how to solve it."

"Well," said the Lorax, "my feathered friends have all made nest, in the trees they decided they liked best. You can't impose upon their tweets, and come and steal their cozy retreats."

"Okay," said Once-ler. "Then I just won't cut those ones down."

"Oh, great excuse, I'm sure you know best, but how will you tell which ones have nests?"

"I promise to use my binoculars every time."

The Lorax considered this. "Well, my dear sir, even if that part might be alright, what about the fruit in which Barbaloots delight? This fare is their favorite sweet, juicy treat. They aren't the type of bears that just eat meat."

"Wait," said Once-ler. "There are a bunch of other trees around here that have fruit. So they won't be affected."

The Lorax sighed. "Beyond that, other things are at hand. Trees create fresh air for the rest of the land. Through leaves so frugal, they drink the air, and give it life, don't you even care?"

"Okaaaaay," Once-ler considered. "But counterpoint: there are still lots of other trees and plants around here to contribute to photosynthesis."

"I'm afraid I haven't been explaining this right," the Lorax said frustratedly. "Because the Truffula Trees are a special type. It takes hundreds of years for them to grow. Why waste them on cheap products, I don't know!"

Unfortunately, the insult only distracted Once-ler from his strongest argument.

"Hey, my product is NOT cheap! I put tons of effort into developing it. The Thneed actually took lots of research, and I had to fight and sacrifice a lot—"

"Alright, alright, you're getting offended! This conversation should really be ended. I'm just saying don't waste ancient trees. I don't see why it's so hard to agree…"

(Read the rest on Ao3).

It was really hard not to make the Lorax seem like a psychotic jerk here. I decided to make him into more of an unpredictable fae creature who will show more depth and have his say later.

I wanna try my best to steelman both sides in this, because the movie accidentally made Once-ler the most sympathetic by far. (Though even he didn't go far enough). Gonna give the Lorax his due soon.

The argument was important for me to include here, because the Lorax had no arguments in the movie and only relied on manipulative music.

The Lorax Novelization

Do you ever kinda wish something would exist, so you just decide to make it yourself?

Read here. I release new chapters every week.

Chapter 9 of The Great Wish Movie Rewrite is up on AO3!

Read it here! Link

Guys, only one more chapter to go after this one! It's been so much fun posting this rewrite! Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading! I can't wait to start the next movie rewrite soon!

In this chapter Magnifico gets sucked into his own black hole of misused magic, and goes through a change.

Excerpt: Magnifico was towed downward by the black hole’s current, the edges of his robes unraveling into threads. He felt himself stretching, as if time itself was taking him apart, strand by strand. Space had swapped places with time, and hurled him toward the void’s inevitable singularity. His head and feet pulled in opposite directions as intense gravity stretched him unthinkably thin. 

As his torso elongated, his legs did not immediately catch up, and the pressure on his head intensified. His arms and legs became uselessly long threads. Horrifically, the magic in his blood denied him death until he became a smeared streak, when his soul was finally released, then he floated out of himself.

Magnifico, now immaterial, continued his descent, then, below, in the blackness from which no light could escape, he began to see dozens of embers. It turns out some light survives after passing through the event horizon’s boundary. As Magnifico sank deeper, time crawled slower and slower, and the lights, getting closer, grew brighter, revealing themselves to be dimming stars. Not alive like the one he’d met, but cold, colourless orbs.

Gravity no longer affected him, so Magnifico floated leisurely through their midst.

The stars’ surfaces were webbed with cracks that spilled streams of gold like blood. Some flickered weakly, while others were grey and lightless, perhaps dead, but they were all doomed to spin round together in the current. One floated through Magnifico, its edges curled inward as if it were devouring itself. They clustered in groups, grazing each other, shedding shards of brilliance like falling snow, while a few floated alone, then disappeared into the blackness beyond. Magnifico watched one brighter star shrink away from him as if it knew he were there.

He watched the creeping shadows where the star vanished, that were creating patterns around him: an endless staircase led downward, each step dripping with despair as it dissolved into nothingness, then the shadows became piercing shards that hurled themselves at him, and stabbed through him, though they only passed through him like smoke. These burst into fragments like pieces of glass from his terrible mirrors, and Magnifico finally saw his own reflection in them. The eyes of his shadow self were empty and sunken, and he did not recognise himself.

The darkness closed in, and laughter rang out from each of his reflections, then Magnifico realised they were one and the same with him. At this understanding the dark magic's grip loosened a tiny bit, and he knew that to reclaim his sanity, he would have to confront these distortions of himself.

As he drifted further down, a shadow formed into the shape of a man.

“Is that. . .?” Now Magnifico knew he was dead. “I think I remember you.” The words he’d said to Asha earlier, during her interview echoed through his mind: “He was a philosopher, was he not? Had great magic running through his blood. Always warning people about the consequences of getting whatever your heart desires. . .”

It was him. Asha’s father, the renowned philosopher. The tall man with a short beard and an eyepatch over his right eye, whose hair still stuck straight up after being killed by lightning, spoke. “Remember when magic was the pursuit of knowledge, not a weapon of tyranny?”

Magnifico studied the philosopher, then he nearly laughed. “I should have known you would appear here to mock me. You always were popping up at the most inconvenient of times. But save your laughter. You speak falsely. Magic is not knowledge, it is power. That is all it has ever been.” He found communicating intuitive despite no longer having a body, and could not explain how.

Time became so slow it was as if they no longer moved at all, and Magnifico could not look away from the man.

“Is that all the philosophy you have gained in one and sixty years?” The philosopher’s gaze pierced him. “Or have you forgotten yourself in the midst of wielding power so mindlessly?”

Finish reading here: Link