Hey guys, so I'm going through a Barbie movie phase right now, and I was watching my favorite one the other night when I had this idea, because we all know how stupid Barbie is :/

ENJOY!

"Merry Christmas, Jenna! Good night!" my sister calls before shutting the door. I smirk and head over to my dresser to take off my jewelry from the party our mom threw. Our relatives finally left a few minutes ago, so I'm free to go to bed.

Popping open my jewelry box, I smile softly as the music plays. Clara and Eric from Barbie and the Nutcracker spin above my drawers of jewelry in their respective goofy outfits.

If you're going to put a hot guy in a movie, NEVER make him do ballet.

As a Christmas tradition, I watch Barbie and the Nutcracker every year after Christmas dinner. I love it all: the magic, the candy, the Nutcracker…my only real problem with the movie is Clara. She's not very bright and not a very good enemy of the Mouse King, and nobody can just magically do such wonderful ballet, even in Parthenia. I don't understand how Eric fell in love with her, or how he could choose her over ruling a kingdom. He abandoned his responsibility.

Time goes by, and as the film draws to a close, I sit on the bed wishing with all my heart that I could prove to the Nutcracker he had made the wrong choice. That he should go back to fighting evil and rule Parthenia, to make sure the Mouse King is actually dead.

I'm convinced he's alive: falling off a collapsing bat that's been hit with a snowball probably wouldn't kill you.

I put the cassette back in the case and lie back down on my bed. Shoving my iPod headphones into my ears, I play one of my favorite songs: "Bluebird" by Sara Bareilles. It's a great song, in case you ever want to look it up on Youtube. It's pretty sad, though: a perfect song to listen to when you're depressed by something.

As I drift off into sleep, I send a little prayer up to whoever's listening: Please. Help me show him he was wrong.

I black out soon afterwards, the soft piano chords rippling gently in my ears.

A few hours later, I'm woken by a small noise. I blink and sit up, glancing at my clock. Midnight exactly.

Normally, I would assume my dad was crashing away on his computer trying to finish his work for the next day, but this sound wasn't typing on a keyboard. It sounded almost like…swords.

I leap up from bed, clinging to my iPod, and I quietly tiptoe towards the kitchen as I remove the headphones from my ears and shove my iPod into my pocket. My lucky necklace is still around my neck; I thought I took it off before bed…?

I quietly change into my comfiest outfit. Light blue elbow-sleeve plaid shirt, comfy jeans stained with brown paint from my time working on the middle school musical two years ago. Black Converse.

Ah, the comforts of the 21st century. If I were Clara doing this, I'd be screwed in that crazy little pink nightgown.

Reaching the kitchen, I gently pull the door open to find the craziest thing I've ever seen.

The Nutcracker….MY Nutcracker from the Barbie movie…is standing on the granite counter fighting off several mouse guards. The Mouse King sits nearby, grinning wickedly at the spectacle as he shifts his scepter from a sword to a crossbow and back to a scepter again.

I blink and rub my eyes. I have to be dreaming. I pinch myself hard and yelp. No, not a dream.

Unfortunately, the Mouse King heard me. He stands up, walking straight past his soldiers, heading for me with his scepter glowing at his side.

Definitely not a dream.

I'm not going to walk away from danger, though. I live for adventures.

I grin and leap into the kitchen, snatching up the Mouse King in my hands and pinching his little golden scepter away from him. He begins yelling. "No no no, not again! Not another idiot girl who thinks she can save the day!"

He struggles against me, but I hold tight and walk over to the window. Opening it wide, I stretch my arm back to throw him as far away as I can.

Suddenly, a sharp stinging pain flames through my hand, and I yelp and clutch it, dropping both the Mouse King and the scepter. I turn to see one of the mouse soldiers, who fired a tiny arrow straight into my fist. The Nutcracker has knocked out the rest and heads for the one who shot.

I grip my wrist and try to still the pain. My hand burns dramatically, and I head for the sink: the arrow must have been on fire when the soldier shot it.

Before I can reach the cool water, I hear cruel laughter, and I whirl around just in time to see a tiny yellow blast hit my ankle. Suddenly I'm shrinking. I'm shrinking faster and faster until finally I'm just shorter than the Mouse King, who walks at me with an evil grin, hitting his scepter against his hand.

"Not so tough now, are we, young lady?" he hisses. As he raises his scepter to blast me into who-knows-what, I rummage desperately through my pockets for any kind of weapon. My hand hits cool metal: my iPod.

I yank it out. Even in its shrunken state, it should be able to play music pretty loudly. I turn it on and rip out the headphones, searching for the loudest song I have.

I turn the volume up full blast and plug my ears. As the loud, angry guitar chords rip out across the kitchen, the Mouse King lowers his scepter and clutches his head with both hands. Fleeing across the floor, he runs into a mousehole I never noticed under the sink, clinging desperately to his scepter.

I reach down and turn off the music as the Nutcracker hops down from the counter. "I found some rope to take care of those soldiers," he said. "I'm sure someone will get rid of them in the morning."

I blink at him. This is really the Nutcracker. I think.

I give him a confused look, and he sighs. "Well, it's what you think: I'm the Nutcracker, in the…wood…flesh. Prince Eric, if you prefer. Lovely to meet you." He removes his cap and bows.

"You can stand up," I told him. "I'm not a fan of all that princey formal crap." He rose, huffing as he replaced his hat. "I was just trying to be friendly," he said. "I don't even know your name."

I reached out and shook his hand firmly. "Jenna," I said. "Nice to meet you." He smiles and returns my handshake. His wooden hands feel strange against my own warm ones, and I end the shake as fast as I start it.

He sighs again. "Come on, then, Jenna," he said. "We'll need to find a way to help you be your normal size again." He heads towards the mousehole.

I don't follow him.

He turns back at the mousehole. "Coming?" he asks. "You can't stay like that for the rest of your life. Surely you want help?" "I'm coming," I tell him.

I walk up to the mousehole, gazing at the entrance. "You're being very calm about this," I noted. He sighs. "It's all happened before," he says, before vanishing into the darkness of the mousehole.