1349, LONDON (OTHERWORLD)

Dear Diary,

Today was my first solo trip into the Otherworld, and, boy, was I dreading it. For months I’ve been listening to the fairies brag about all the children they’ve been helping and it’s intimidated my socks off. Their stories are so touching and heartfelt, I knew I could never have the same impact.

For starters, the fairies really look the part. They’re always dressed in bright, shimmering, colorful clothes, like they’re performing in an obnoxious parade. I get headaches if I look at them for too long, and children love that gimmicky crap.

Another thing: I’ve never been good with kids. They never appreciate my humor. They say I talk funny and smell weird, which stings when it’s coming from a kid with a lisp who’s covered in chocolate. Every baby I’ve ever been in contact with has peed or thrown up on me—even when I’m not holding it! It’s like I’m a walking hazardous wastebasket to them.

Needless to say, I was very nervous about the whole thing. I seriously regretted signing up for it.

I crossed through the portal and ended up in a town called London in a country called England. I’ve heard the fairies speak so highly of it, but it was miserable! Or at least the condition I found it in was.

The city was like a big foggy maze, and there were rats everywhere! The streets were filled with people lying on the ground who coughed and moaned horribly—like I do on the mornings after I’ve had too much bubbly. But these people weren’t recovering from a night of careless drinking, they were sick—the sickest I’ve ever seen!

Their skin was pale and there were dark circles under their eyes. Their glands were so swollen they protruded out of their necks and down their bodies. Their fingers and toes were black, as if their bodies had begun rotting while they were still alive.

I use the term alive loosely, because many looked like they were already dead. I couldn’t help but scream when I turned a corner and found a large pile of bodies stacked right in the middle of town. The liveliest person I saw was a man wearing a birdlike mask who was pulling a wagon of more dead bodies, which he dumped with the others.

“Excuse me, sir.” I said. “I’m new in town. What’s going on here?”

“Madame, you mustn’t be walking the streets without a mask on!” he said. “You’ll catch the Black Death.”

“Black Death?” I asked. “Where I come from, that’s a wrestling move I invented. What does it mean here?”

“It’s a terrible plague,” he said. “It’s taken more than half the lives in this country, and even more throughout Europe.”

“A plague?” I said in disbelief.

Of course! There would be a deadly epidemic the first time I came to the Otherworld by myself—it was just my luck. How was I supposed to help anyone under these circumstances? If I wasn’t nervous before, I definitely was now. I needed a drink.

“Is there a tavern around here?” I asked him.

“What’s a tavern?” he asked.

“You know, a place that serves alcoholic beverages,” I explained, but that didn’t register with him, either.

“Alcohol?” he asked.

“Yeah, the sterilizing liquid originally invented for medicinal purposes but was later developed into a variety of consumable flavors for consumers to abuse.”

Still, it wasn’t ringing a bell.

“I’ve never heard of a tavern, but it’s a fine idea,” the man said.

“Never mind,” I said. “Do you know of any children in the area who could use a hand?”

He pointed down a winding street. “There’s a church down this road that’s housing orphans, but I wouldn’t go there if I were you. All the children are infected.”

“Trust me, it’ll take more than a plague to poison the blood in my veins,” I said. “Thank you for the directions.”

I traveled down the road and stopped at a building that had several tiny coffins stacked outside it. I figured this must be the place. It was an eerie sight, and my heart began to race. Thankfully I found my backup flask in my hat and took a swig from it.

I knocked on the door and a nun wearing a mask answered. I could only see her eyes, but the dark circles under them were just as bad as the people’s outside. However, hers weren’t from illness but exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” she asked me.

“I was wondering if I could help you,” I said. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d ask if you needed any assistance with the children.”

“God bless you,” the nun said. She was so relieved I thought she might kiss me. “I’ve been taking care of the orphans for two days straight without sleep. Please come in.”

The nun led me inside the church and took me into a back room. There were a dozen beds but only three were occupied with children: two boys and one girl. They had terrible coughs and were just as pale and swollen as the people outside. One of the boys was so ill he could barely keep his eyes open.

“The plague took their parents,” the nun said. “A week ago we were turning children away, and now these are who remain….”

“Why don’t you get some rest,” I said. “I’ll look after the kiddos.”

“Thank you,” the nun said and went into the next room. She was so weary, she didn’t even think to ask who I was or if I was qualified to look after children. The orphans, however, weren’t so shy about vetting me.

“Who are you?” the conscious little boy wheezed.

“Where I’m from, they call me Mother Goose,” I said.

“Do you have children?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. “But I do have a pet gander who acts like a child—though don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get very upset.”

“Geese don’t get upset,” the little girl said.

“You’ve never met Lester,” I told her.

“He has a name?” the boy asked.

“Sure does, although he tells me every day he wants to change it to something more dignified.”

“He can talk?” the girl asked.

“Getting him to shut up is the trick,” I said.

“But animals can’t talk,” the boy said.

“Where I’m from, lots of animals talk,” I said. “They wear clothes, have jobs, and are respectable members of society. We have lots of things you don’t have in this world, because in my world there’s lots of magic.”

“Magic?” the girl asked, as if she was afraid of it. “Do you work for the devil?”

“Depends on who you ask,” I said. “But you have nothing to worry about. I work for the Fairy Godmother. She’s a wonderful woman who sent me here to help you.”

The orphans began to cough and looked at each other sadly.

“You can’t help us,” the boy said. “No one can. Soon the Lord will take us to be with our parents.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. Who would?

“I may not be able to help your bodies, but maybe I can put your minds at ease,” I said. “Would you like to hear a story?”

The orphans just looked at me. They didn’t say no, so I figured this was my chance. I had no idea which story I was going to tell them. What could I possibly tell them to make them feel better? I anxiously took another swig from my flask and began telling them the first tale that came to mind.

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty back together again,” I said and hiccupped.

“Why are you rhyming?” the girl asked.

“Oh no, was I rhyming?” I asked—I hadn’t even noticed. “You’ll have to forgive me. I tend to rhyme when I’ve had too much to drink. It’s a nasty trait I get from my father—it runs in the family.”

“I like it,” the boy said and smiled, probably for the first time in a long while. “My parents used to tell me rhymes before they died.”

They seemed like such sweet kids. I didn’t think there was anything I could say to comfort them.

“You know, I was an orphan, too, once,” I said. “My dad was a warlock and my mom was a fairy. They had me very young, probably before they wanted to. They left me on the doorstep of the Fairy Palace and ran off to persue their dreams of becoming musicians. But their musical aspirations were crushed when a giant stepped on them.”

“That’s rough,” the girl said.

“It could have been worse,” I said. “The fairies raised me, but I was a bit of a troublemaker. I got passed around from home to home until I could take care of myself. I was always using my magic to play pranks and rig horse races.”

It was the first time I had ever told anyone that story, and I had told it to the right audience. Both orphans were smiling at me.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” the boy said.

“Me too,” I said. “You’d think people with their heads in the clouds would have seen a big foot coming.”

Wouldn’t you know it—I made them laugh! It was the most heartwarming sound I’ve ever heard. It reminded me that I had a heart, and judging from the warmth filling my chest, I must have had a big one.

“Mother Goose?”

I turned my head and saw that the other little boy was now wide-awake and sitting up in bed, as if their laughter had brought him back to life.

“Will you tell us another story?” he said. “Rhymes make me happy.”

After hearing this, I realized my tear ducts still worked after all. I took another big swig from my flask and told them another story.

“Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep, and doesn’t know where to find them; leave them alone, and they’ll come home, wagging their tails behind them.”

“We used to have a farm with sheep before the plague,” the girl said. “Please tell us another one.”

“Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey; along came a spider, who sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away.”

“A spider?” the boys laughed together. “Please don’t stop!”

“Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.”

I spent the rest of the night telling them rhymes about the ridiculous people from my world. I had sobered up entirely but kept a loose facade to keep them happy. They had me repeat their favorites, and then we recited them together. The orphans added tunes to the poems and we sang them to one another until they began to fall asleep.

“Mother Goose, will you be here in the morning?” the girl asked.

“You betcha,” I said. “Now you kiddos get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll rhyme more in the morning.”

I sat with them until the sun rose, but the orphans never woke up. Just like the boy said, the Lord took them to be with their parents. When she was done resting, the nun came into the room, said a prayer for their souls, and covered their bodies with their bed sheets.

Naturally, a part of me was devastated. But knowing I managed to supply those kids with a little happiness in their final moments was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, and perhaps the single greatest act I’ve ever done. For the first time, I truly understood why the Fairy Godmother was so passionate about helping people. There’s nothing like restoring the light in someone’s eyes and helping them forget their pain, even if it’s just for a moment. It’s magic at its finest.

I went into the Otherworld hoping to make a difference in someone’s life, but the true difference was made in mine. I had been so skeptical of myself before, but making those orphans laugh in such a miserable time had a profound effect on me. Maybe this old lady could help that world after all….