Lampwick and the No Strings Friend (Fairy Tales Redone #1)

Chapter 1

1

LAMPWICK

YEAR: 1881

M y life is over.

I know my time on Earth is coming to a close because I feel myself dying, overworked and broiling in the autumn sun. I can’t take this, and I realize I am going to die in days, maybe hours. No matter how much water or food they give me, I keep collapsing. I’m being worked to the bone here on the farm with mud all over my body. I’ve never felt this awful, this alone, this vulnerable, and I can’t even say it out loud.

Because I can’t talk. I’ve been transformed into a donkey, and now I’m trapped on a farm, laboring like an animal. I’m nearly eleven years old—I’m supposed to be merely a boy in school, but instead, this is how I’ll live my final days.

As the sun blazes on my body, I lie, gasping and twitching in the mud. I take what must be my last few breaths, dwelling on two thoughts. Number one: I miss the people in my life. Not that sinister Coachman who brought me here, but the ones who wanted more from me. My mama wanted to instill a conscience in me. My teachers wanted me to be a part of society. And Pinocchio, my best friend, the wooden puppet boy. He was the only person who knew the real me, who made me feel worthy. I wonder if he got away from that awful Land of Toys.

I weakly bray in the mud. The second thought: I deserve this. Because I wasn’t a good kid. I never acted right, never learned, and caused mayhem and destruction all over town.

So, here I go, letting the exhaustion of being an overworked farm donkey overtake me. No more misery. The world will never remember the kid they called Lampwick .

“Here he is!” Those three words wake me up — that’s not the farmer. Who is it?

I blink, even though I can barely see in this animal body.

“It’s him!”

“Are you sure, mio figlio ?” The second voice is unfamiliar, an older, more ragged tone. I sniff and move my neck, just wanting to be left alone to shrivel up and die.

“I know it is. I can feel it. The Cricket was right!” That voice, the first one, is higher, but I recognize it. My big ears work just fine, but with these donkey eyes, I can only make out dim shapes. I’m too weak to see anything anyway. I feel someone get close enough to touch. There’s something about this person — a kid like me? — that’s recognizable.

“Papa, we have to save him!”

“But it’s a donkey.”

“He’s not a donkey. He’s my friend, Lampwick!”

My name. I know that voice!

Hope and affection flood my bones, giving me strength. Standing up on all fours, I blink as much as I can. I can vaguely make out the shape of a human boy getting close to me. I dip my head, bracing for his hand as it approaches me.

“Are you sure?”

“I even recognize his scar.”

He remembers . My friend, the boy I cared about the most, remembers me. Pinocchio doesn’t look the same, but my donkey eyesight is still not good. When his hand touches my face, the first kind warmth I’ve felt in days, or possibly years, warms my soul. He rubs above my eyebrow, where my scar was when I was human. I can’t believe he recalls that little part of me.

Pinocchio pets me, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like life might be alright. I feel safe.

That comfort is short-lived when the farmer stomps forward. “ Cosa fai ? That’s my donkey!” Hearing his voice, I instinctively bury my head in Pinocchio’s arms. I don’t even care if I’m wrong about this being my friend, anything would be better than my fate here. Please save me.

“How much for him?” Pinocchio asks.

“What?” the older second voice interjects.

“What game are you playing?” the farmer asks, and I flinch at his voice.

“I want to take this one home. I’ll even work for you, no matter the cost.” After a pause, my friend says, “Please, Papa?”

I can’t hear anything for a beat. I nuzzle into Pinocchio’s side, taking in his scent. I’d forgotten how much he meant to me. I’ve missed friendship, I’ve missed someone caring about me. I’ve missed him . “How much?” the older man, his papa, asks.

The farmer grumbles. “Fifty gold,” he mutters.

I flinch in Pinocchio’s arms, and he pets me. It’s soothing, but fifty gold is an insane asking price. Pinocchio isn’t some rich boy prince!

“That’s way too much,” Pinocchio retorts. “Look, he’s limping. His condition is so poor. He needs help; let us take him off your hands.”

“ Signore , what if I make you a nice clock? Custom, just for you,” the papa says.

I breathe rapidly, afraid the haggling will fail. I don’t want to go back, Pinocchio.

After a long pause, the farmer mutters, “Fine. He’s a shit donkey anyway.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as my friend pets me. His hand is the first loving touch I’ve felt in ages, and it soothes my very soul. The two grownups talk about trading for me while I nuzzle my friend. I knew he was extraordinary, but right now, he’s the most important presence in my life.

“It’s okay, Lampwick.” He rubs the scar on my eyebrow. “We’ll take care of you. You’re safe now.”

The next week is a blur, but a comfortable one. I know I’m indoors, and I’m given better food than on the farm, with plenty of water. Pinocchio even washes me, telling me all about the scenery around him in the town of Collodi. His words alleviate my pain, and I adore him more and more every day. They’re all kind to me: his papa, his pet cat, and even, somehow, his pet goldfish in a bowl. Most of all, I’m allowed to rest.

After a day, I can see a little better. My life isn’t sapping away anymore. I have energy, and I’m almost content. I may be a ten-year-old kid-turned-donkey, but at least I kind of have a home now. I would be okay spending the rest of my days with him, because my best friend takes care of me.

One night, I’m getting ready for bed, curled up on a carpet in the tiny living room where both Pinocchio and his papa sleep. Dinner was yummy, and afterward, I got to listen as his papa played the accordion. Even with my poor vision, I could see my buddy, dark curls bouncing around his tiny face, dancing with the pet cat. This entertainment is no island of pure pleasure, but it’s fun. And Pinocchio is all sorts of cute. Being part of a loving home is a welcome change of pace. As I drift off, I think to myself that I could get used to this…

“Hello, dear child.” A woman of pure turquoise comes into vision. She’s all I can see. “This is your second chance.”

My…what?

“Your friend cares so much for you. And you need to spend the rest of your days finding a way to repay both him and Geppetto.”

What’s happening?

“Avoid temptation. Follow the right and true. And find your heart, young one. This is the last time you will get this chance.”

Before I can ask, a warm, turquoise glow engulfs me. I feel lighter, happier.

“Your friend made a wish, so do not squander it. Find your conscience, and find your heart.”

With that, the turquoise woman disappears, and I drift deeper into sleep.

* * *

When I wake up, my back hurts. I stretch out, unsure why I’m curled up in a ball position. My shirt and green trousers are dirty and tattered, making me even more uncomfortable. I splay out and stretch like a starfish, and then look up. The ceiling looks so detailed. When I gaze forward, the wall is filled with color. I’m overwhelmed by the clarity and details of the room.

The wall is covered with…clocks? Wood planks and tools are scattered about, and I have no idea where I am.

“What’s with all the clocks?” I ask, my voice croaking, like I haven’t talked in ages. My mouth feels sour; as much as I hated being told to clean my teeth, I could use one of those new toothbrushes my teachers told me about. I sit upright on my hands. “My neck,” I murmur, twisting my head left and right.

To my left, the clarity hits me again, and I see who’s in the tiny bed. A kid about my age with brown curls and a narrow face is a few feet away from me. He blinks open his eyes, and the realization hits both of us at the same time.

“Lampwick?!” he squeaks.

“Sticks?!” My face hurts from smiling so much. It all comes back to me, and the immensity of this moment makes me spring up — I’m back to my original self.

“Lampwick, you’re human!” My friend stands up, clad in his nightgown.

“Ah! So are you, Sticks! I mean, I guess I can’t call you Sticks anymore!” I laugh as he lunges and crashes into me. I probably still smell like a donkey, but how can I care? I get to hold my best friend, the greatest boy I’ve ever known, with my real hands. I’m human again, and so is he!

I clutch my friend, nearly crying in relief. My hands grasp his hair, and I breathe in his perfect scent. Boys don’t hug other boys, and boys shouldn’t cry, but none of that matters right now. I’m back, and I know in my heart it’s because of Pinocchio.

“What’s going on?” I turn to see the older man getting out of bed and putting on his glasses. Papa !

“Meow.” A tiny cat purrs at my feet, almost as if he’s confused, too.

“I can’t believe it happened!” Pinocchio wipes away a tear, and I can’t stop smiling.

“What is this?” the man asks.

“This…” Pinocchio looks between us, then nods and turns to his papa. “This is Lampwick. This is my best friend.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, straightening my back. “And, um, thank you.”

The man shifts his glasses up, then slowly smiles. “It’s Geppetto.”

My shoulders relax in relief, knowing he’s not going to kick me out immediately. “Meow!” Pinocchio bends down and picks up the tiny black cat.

“Come, meet my cat and pet fish!” Pinocchio says with joy.

“I’ll meet anyone you want,” I say, chuckling. I stretch my back and shake out my arms, delighted to have my human limbs again. After a moment, I pet the cat in his arms, and it purrs. “I’m just happy to not be a donkey anymore.”

“How is this possible?” Geppetto asks.

“I made a wish!” Pinocchio giggles when the cat purrs in the delight of me petting him. “The Turquoise Fairy gave me one wish upon on a star, and I wanted Lampwick back.”

My heart threatens to burst. My best friend saved me from servitude and used a magic wish to restore me? Pinocchio continues to do more for me than anyone.

“Well, son, I guess you’re one of us. Welcome to the Carlo family.” Geppetto smiles and I nod.

“Sir, with all due respect. I don’t want to be part of the family.”

“Huh?” Pinocchio asks. They all look at me, the cat even pausing to listen somehow.

“I want to earn my keep. I’d like to do chores for you, because you both saved my life.”

Pinocchio shakes his head slowly in confusion. “But…you’re part of the family now.”

“Sticks…I mean, Pinocchio,” I say. “Being human is my second chance. I want to grow into something better than the selfish kid I was. I can’t stay here in good conscience without helping out.”

Geppetto and Pinocchio look at each other in understanding. “We know a thing or two about having a conscience,” Geppetto says with a smile.

“My moral guide left,” Pinocchio slowly explains. He pets the cat and continues, “The Cricket said I don’t need him anymore, so he went to find someone new to help. But before he left, he told me where to find you.”

I nod. “Then I owe you all a debt. Let me repay that.” I walk over to the goldfish and tap the bowl. Somehow, I can tell the fish is batting her eyes at me. “I’ve been selfish my whole life.” I walk back to Geppetto. “So let me work to earn my place here.”

“Very well, Lampwick,” Geppetto says. “If that will make you happy.”

“It will.”

Pinocchio places his hand on my shoulder, and my heart warms even further. “Welcome to the family, Lampo.” I beam, even though I know I’m not a part of his home, not yet. I need to earn it. And if it takes a year, or a lifetime, I’ll do what needs to be done to redeem myself.

The Turquoise Fairy gave me a second chance, and I will not waste it.