New York City, New York, 1899
People shouted, children cried, horses neighed, wheels creaked and groaned while above the messy, distracting clang of the bustling New York streets, one clear newsboy's voice rose to hawk out the headlines of that afternoon's paper. The sun hung in the sky, casting oppressive heat over all the passerby who walked to and fro. Such it was that Crutchie stopped by the side of the road simply to wipe his brow. He was carrying his hat in his hand, uncovering his hot, sticky forehead to face the summer day. Crutchie took hold of his crutch again, and limped off into the masses to sell his newspapers. A sudden breeze tugged at his blonde hair, and he welcomed the coolness by turning his bright green eyes towards its direction. That same breeze mischievously brushed by his hat, and before Crutchie knew it, his cap had been ripped out of his hands and was tumbling away through the air like a small, plaid green flag. Crutchie immediately limped after it, swinging his free arm back and forth as he went as fast as he could. The wind led him far from the hustle and bustle of the crowds and into the quiet peace of Central Park. Crutchie never stopped or slowed his pace while following the wind, which seemed to be intent on leading him on a wild goose chase. Finally, the wind died in a small grove of trees, and his hat gently fluttered to the ground. Crutchie snatched it out of the air and placed it firmly back on his head, looking around. He had most likely lost a lot of business while trying to catch his hat, but Crutchie didn't particularly mind. It wasnt often that the city's newsies caught a break.
Crutchie wavered as the wind picked up again, watching the trees sway violently. He looked down with a gasp as the ground opened up beneath him in a giant swirl of purple and blue light. Crutchie yelled out in fright as he dropped through the hole, holding onto his crutch with a death grip. At sixteen years old, Crutchie had thought he had seen everything from being a newsie, but it looked like he was wrong. What was happening here could only be described as magic.
Crutchie fell head over heels onto a wooden bridge. He groaned, slowly sitting up and taking his legs out from underneath him. He straightened out his bad leg, and rubbed his eyes. Where was he? He stared at an immense, thick green forest that spread out as far as the eye could see. In the other direction, Crutchie saw a giant blue lake, far bigger than anything he had ever seen. On its banks far away from the bridge, was more of the forest. Crutchie had never seen a place like this in his life, except maybe in paintings. He stood up and started to walk around, his crutch giving a reassuring tap whenever he took a step. At least that reminded him of the city. Crutchie glanced back at the forest, unsure of where to go. He couldn't deny it; he was a bit afraid of the forest. In Crutchie's mind it was like an alleyway, filled with all sorts of people just waiting to beat you up. Crutchie began limping towards it, but froze when he heard a loud shuffling and grunting noise. The wooden boards creaked under his foot and crutch as he hesitantly took a step backwards. Crutchie's mouth opened in horror as two monstrous creatures stumbled out of the forest. Wearing nothing but brown, ragged shorts, they were hairless and ugly with layers of dirt all over them. Their faces were brutish and mean, and they at once surrounded Crutchie, who had all but frozen in fear.
The monsters began laughing, their voices grating and gravelly.
"You gonna pay the toll, welp?" One of the monsters snickered. Crutchie fearfully dug around in his pocket for his day's earnings.
"I-I think I-I got some money, sir," Crutchie stuttered, scared out of his mind. The trolls laughed uproarisly as Crutchie held out his meager assortment of coins. The troll who had spoken to him grabbed his arm in a crushing grip, and Crutchie gasped aloud in pain. He had been right. The forest did have people waiting to beat you up. The trolls snickered at his predicament.
"Too bad for you, you didn't pay the toll," the other troll snickered.
"But don't worry, welp-we'll make it up by having a nice, warm dinner," the troll explained.
"You're goin' tah feed me?" Crutchie asked, confused. He cried out in pain as the troll knocked his feet out from underneath him.
"No, welp," the troll smiled a wide, sickening grin, "We're going to eat you."
The trolls grabbed both his arms and dragged him away down the bridge, still laughing maliciously and ignoring their captive's pitiful cries for help.