Disclaimer: I do not own The Lorax, be it book or short or film. That honor belongs solely to Dr. Seuss Enterprises, Random House Publishing, and Universal. I am simply a fan of a wonderful story.
Author's Note
Hello, one and all. My name is T.O. Cole. I grew up on the tales of Dr. Seuss. I remember being especially fond of the tongue-twistery Fox in Socks. But I have never entered into the realm of Seuss fan fiction. In fact, I only recently stumbled onto this section on the site.
I blame The Lorax for that, really, and for this story.
Here is the truth. A few weeks ago, I watched the Universal film version for the very first time. I know, I know. I'm slow. The effect on me was immediate, though. I enjoyed the movie. It made me smile and laugh. As soon as I was able, I bought the movie at a local store. I also sought out the book—a book I had not read or seen in many years.
And, as so often is the case when I find something I really like, I became a mite obsessed. Enough so that I began brainstorming ideas for fan fiction…
But I cannot bring myself to be too embarrassed about this state I am in. As I said, I grew up on Dr. Seuss. I adore his work, and I have many fond memories of not only reading the books but also watching their adaptations.
And, well, I love the moral of The Lorax. We all know it, of course.
UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better.
It's not.
It is not just the environmentalism aspect of the message that touched me, though as a country gal surrounded by nature I did very much appreciate it. But I loved the idea that it could apply to life in general as well. By choosing to care and do the right thing, we can be a positive influence that can change the world for the better.
And we most certainly SHOULD care about loving one another and making the world a brighter place. It is our responsibility.
I apologize for what seems like a load of rambling. What I mean to say is that the moment I watched The Lorax, my newfound love for the story drove me to write one of my own. A specific tale, in fact, because the beginnings of a possible plot had already been planted.
Honestly speaking, I have plenty of other fan fiction stories I should probably be working on right now. Not to mention a few original pieces are always clamoring for my attention. But I have the creative itch, and it will not leave my brain until I put this story to the page and share it with others.
So I will.
I am a huge fan of fantastical events and epic journeys. Therefore, this fan fic has a healthy dose of both. References to other Seuss works will also be used.
I am still working out the kinks in the overall plot itself. However, I will definitely go back and fix the mistakes that will inevitably pop up. I will let you know when this happens, and would appreciate it if anyone points out where a plot-hole reveals itself.
The prologue is a bit intense, so fair warning. Happy reading!
OoOoOoO
THE LOST VALLEY
Prologue: A Long, Long Time Ago…
OoOoOoO
Storm clouds, spitting burning rain, boiled in a tumultuous sky. A sour wind blew, tugging at skeletal trees and threadbare grass. Black water oozed and globbed and slopped. The ground was a sickly gray, gutted by deep trenches and pockmarked with misshapen lumps that might once have been hills.
He felt nothing but an abnormal chill in the air. This valley was dead.
He wiped at wet eyes. He had seen it three times already this year, and the sight still made his heart sink to his furry toes.
"No more," whispered the Lorax. He gazed at the Elder's precious gift in his hand. "No more."
It was time to act.
He set off across the blasted landscape, a small patch of color against the dull sameness of a lifeless world.
Caw-caw-caw!
The Lorax glanced up and spotted crows. There were at least a dozen of the birds, and they did not seem to mind the biting rain. Instead, they circled above him, slowly, slowly, watching. He stared straight into their sharp, beady eyes.
Caw-caw-caw! they cried.
Then, with a flap of oily feathers, the flock at long last flew onward.
In the direction he was headed…
"Looks like we're expected, then," said the Lorax. He sighed, and smiled at his silent companion. "Doesn't matter though, huh? We gotta keep going."
The gift quivered in his palm.
"Here we go."
The Lorax followed a winding path through the wasteland. He struggled to ignore the desolation surrounding him. The twisted, crumpling trees. The scorched and wilted remains of flowers, bushes, and clover. The stink of stagnant pools and acidic air.
It was difficult, a losing battle. He saw it all, felt it all. The weight of so much loss was suffocating. Several times, it nearly bowled him over.
And still he continued moving forward, inch by inch, step by step, his eyes trained on a certain hillside.
There IT awaited him.
An eternity of a march later, the Lorax clambered up the mound. It was a steep, rocky climb. He would never admit to it, but he soon began to huff and puff. Everything ached… This land sapped his strength. It was no longer his, and he was definitely not welcome.
But onward and upward he climbed, until he crested the knoll. A disorderly din of caw-caw-caw greeted him.
So too did a sharp-toothed smile.
The grin belonged to a sinuous creature. Its serpentine body lounged in the boughs of what had been a majestic tree, the oldest of the valley. Pale gray eyes were set deep into a thin, wolfish face. Its barbed tail twitched in the air. Tattered wings, as dark and hazy as the sky, drooped from its bony shoulders. It had only two wiry, crooked looking arms, but each one ended in a set of nasty claws. A mob of dusty crows perched on its back, the crest of its head, and the limbs and branches which made up its throne.
"Well, well, well," the monster hissed. Its voice was velvety and almost sweet, a feminine voice. "There you are… I was beginning to wonder if you would ever show up. Welcome, guardian."
The Lorax merely grunted.
She chortled. "Well, now that is rude. But I suppose I should have expected such a greeting from you, old friend."
"We are not friends, Beldam," said the Lorax.
"Perhaps not… But we are connected in a way few things are or ever will be. Our dance is an eternal one. Familiarity such as that deserves at least some respect."
"Naw. That's not how it goes. Familiarity breeds contempt, that's what. Coincidently, that's what I'm feelin' right now."
She laughed again. There was no true merriment or joy behind the sound, however. It was as poisonous as the blood of the Beldam herself.
"You always were good for a laugh, little guardian," said the Beldam, leaning her head against an upraised claw. "I've missed that." With her free arm, she gestured at the terrain. "Tell me. What do you think of my latest work of art? Is it not beautiful?" she whispered.
The Lorax's mustache bristled, and his hands clenched into trembling fists. But his voice was calm and cool when he said, "Beautiful is not the word I'd use."
The Beldam rolled her eyes. "Of course you wouldn't. You are so busy speaking for tongue-less trees, oh mighty Guardian of the Forest, you are blind to the beauty found in death."
"Wrong again. I deal with life, so I know death pretty well. Death's peaceful. It's natural, and I accept it. But this, what you've done?" The Lorax spanned his arms, taking in the desolate, polluted lands. "This is chaos. This is destruction." He glared at the creature, the heat of the sun in his eyes. "This is murder. Nothin' beautiful about that."
"Mm. We'll just have to agree to disagree, won't we?" The Beldam's eyes narrowed as she licked her lips. Sizzling slaver dripped from her jaws, burning whatever it touched. "It doesn't matter what you think, anyway. Trust me. This is only the beginning."
"Ya think so?"
"No," she said with a sneer. "I don't think so. I know so."
The Beldam rose up from her languid crouch. Her wings spread. Her eyes gleamed. Her tail slashed. She spoke, and her voice became thicker, weightier, thunderous.
"And here's what I know. I intend to take more of your valleys, Lorax. And more of your forests, and more of your fields, and more of your mountains. More of your precious trees… And more, more, more! I will make it all MY definition of beautiful."
The Lorax scowled. "So you plan on consuming the whole world, then. Is that it?"
"Silly, silly guardian," the creature chortled. "Haven't you realized the truth yet?" She leaned forward a bit, and breathed smogulous smoke into the Lorax's face. "It's always been mine to take…"
"That's crazy talk," wheezed the Lorax, his eyes and nose stinging.
She smiled. "Is it? I don't think so. I've always had more followers to do my bidding than you."
"Followers, huh?"
"Yes. An eon's worth, with still more yet to crawl from the mud and draw breath."
She chortled.
"Oh, I admit," she said, "not all my pets realize they work for me. Take the humans, for instance… They have no idea. But they do serve me, all the same, with their constant BIGGERING and BIGGERING. Such a lovely concept, that, isn't it? The whelps love fame and profit and self-gratification far more than they ever will something beyond themselves. Such as you and your agenda…
"And if they do ever notice? It still wouldn't matter!" The Beldam laughed again, a wild howl that sent the crows to cawing. "After all… Who in their right mind would dare stand up to me? Face it, little guardian. No one cares enough about your or your trees to risk everything they hold dear in a plant's defense. They are too cowardly, too weak willed, to go against the grain, against the status quo, against ME!"
The Lorax harrumphed. "Counting your chickens before they hatch, aren't ya?"
"Don't tell me you think a human would fight me to protect your world!"
"Maybe, maybe not," said the Lorax. "Only time will tell."
Her lips twisted into an expression that was both a sneer and a grimace. "What an irrational sense of optimism you have."
He shrugged. "Ya have to, in my line work. And it's not so much optimism as it's faith." The Lorax pointed at the Beldam. "So you can count on this. Maybe it'll be a hundred. Maybe a thousand. Most likely it'll only be one, possibly two. But that's more than enough. Cause Someone will always step up and stop you. Always. I feel it in my gut."
"Is that Someone you?" drawled the Beldam, grinning. "Are you here to use the Forces of Nature against me? Make me pay for what I've done? Send me into exile, renew what I've broken? Curse me till the end of my days? Oh wait." She cackled. "I forgot. It's you, and that's not how it works."
"What d'ya know? One thing you've got right today. I won't stop you, Beldam. But this will."
The Lorax at last revealed the gift from the Elder. He held it up for the monster and all its feathery spies to see. The small brown shape seemed to glow, even in the unnatural dusk. Intricate whorls danced across its shell.
His adversary was not impressed.
"A seed?" hissed the Beldam. "One tiny seed? That is what you bring to defeat me? What foolishness. One seed can't unto me or my work."
"Shows what you know," said the Lorax gruffly. "It's not about what it is. It's about what it can become."
She growled. "What pretty words, little guardian. Too bad they are absolutely meaningless."
"Are they?" he said. "Let's find out, shall we?"
He scuffed a foot against the lifeless dirt, creating a shallow hole. He bent down to plant the seed.
At that moment, a crow darted out of the murky unknown and snatched up the seed. The Lorax made a grab for the oily bird, but it floated out of reach of his hands. Cawing madly, its beady eyes flashing, it flew back to the Beldam with its prize.
The monster chuckled as she took the offered seed. She graced the Lorax with a triumphant smirk.
"Looks like you lose, old friend," she said. She tossed the seed into her mouth and swallowed it whole. "Nice try. But it's over now."
"Is it?" said the Lorax in a quiet voice.
The sneer only grew. "Oh, I think—"
The Beldam suddenly jolted. Her ugly smile vanished. Gaping, she gripped her throat and then her stomach. She shuddered.
"What-?" she started to say, before another violent and powerful jolt slammed into it.
Then another, and another, and another. The polluted spirit seized up, gurgling, as a wave of bone-rattling convulsions took hold of her body.
"WhAt Is ThIs?!" she howled.
She jerked, head whipping too and fro. Her tail went into spasms and her wings flapped erratically. The terrified crows took off and vanished in a cloud of feathers and dust.
The Beldam fell from the fallen tree with a thud, screaming as she writhed on the ground. She clawed frantically at her gut. Her wild eyes took in everything but saw nothing. She lashed out with her stinger, but it touched only but air.
"GuArDiAn! YoU-! wHaT dId YoU dO tO mE?!" she wailed.
"Me?" said the Lorax. "I haven't done anything. That's not how it works, remember? It's the seed."
She whined, hacking and retching. "iMpOsSiBle! No SeEd CoUlD dO tHiS!"
"A seed from the Elder can."
"HER?!" she shrieked. "BuT sHe NeVeR-!"
"Yeah, it's a pretty a rare thing. But the Elder agreed with me." His bushy brows furrowed. "You're way too dangerous, Beldam. You've destroyed far too much, hurt too many. And you've shown you'll never change your ways. Something had to be done. So the Elder gave me a gift. What you just ate? That's a spirit seed."
The monster's eyes widened. "No… iT cAnNoT be…"
"I'm afraid so."
The Beldam screamed again, jolting, her shoulders arching painfully. A shoot of silver bark erupted from her back, encasing her wings in limbs and brightly colored leaves. The same was happening to her tail and arms. Flowered vines crept from her mouth.
"Spirit trees are strong, enduring. They can stand for countless ages," said the Lorax. "I'm thinking this one will hold you even longer than that. Your days of freedom are over, Beldam."
Gnarled roots and branches now imprisoned the creature's torso. A thick, hardened trunk now crept up and down her chest and neck.
"yOu TrIcKeD mE…" she rasped.
"Don't blame me, Beldam. You got yourself into this mess. Your greed and pride—your inability to see beyond yourself—did you in." The Lorax sighed. "Like those sorts of things always do, in the end… And like they always will."
The Beldam screamed and spat and cursed. She squirmed and thrashed, but she could not escape the iron grip of the tree now growing around her, inside her. Soon, only her face could be seen, then only her maddened eyes.
And still she unleashed an otherworldly howl that would chill the blood of any mortal being. Despite himself, the Lorax felt his fur stand on end.
"You will pay for this!" she roared. "I swear it! You will pay for this, guardian! This prison won't hold me forever! I will escape! I will! And when I do, I'll destroy everything you love! Everything you hold dear, everything you cherish, I will rip to shreds! I will drink their blood, suck out their life, poison them from the inside out! There will be NOTHING left for you! I will crush your very soul! I swear it! Hear me, guardian? HEAR ME!"
The tree then snapped shut, trapping the spirit deep within its core. The Beldam's final cry of defiance and hatred echoed across the wastes, until even it was swallowed up by the eerie silence. Even the slow and sour wind ceased its wicked whispering.
The Lorax released a wearied sigh, shoulders and mustache drooping.
It was over.
Yet he felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of sorrow.
The Beldam was imprisoned, yes, but it was a bittersweet victory. The land was still in pain. It would be years and years before this poor valley recovered enough to sustain any sort of life. The trees and animals who had once lived here—his beloved friends—were gone, never to return.
And then there was…
The Lorax slowly approached the spirit tree. Its silver trunk and branches and bright leaves stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the desolation. It was a lonely sight, and soon it would be lonelier still. His heart broke for this brave and selfless being.
"Thank you, friend," he said, setting a hand against the spirit tree. "You've saved us. But I'm so, so sorry…" His eyes welled with tears. "I'm so sorry it has to be this way…"
The spirit tree answered him with a comforting thrum. We do what we must, it said in a soft voice. Then it hummed a single word, over and again.
UNLESS…
UNLESS…
UNLESS…
His own mantra… The Lorax nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Exactly. Couldn't have said it better myself." He paused before continuing, "I will visit you whenever I can. I promise."
Stepping back, the Lorax lifted his arms. He closed his eyes, and then began to quietly sing.
The earth opened up, and the spirit tree drifted down, down, down, deep into the heart of the earth. Where it would be hidden from prying eyes, safe from those who would hack it down and so free its prisoner, a secret to be lost to time and legend.
Soon, the tree was gone. Silence returned to the decimated world.
The Lorax drew in a ragged, exhausted breath, opening his eyes. He quickly but thoroughly studied his work.
Good. Not a trace of the spirit tree or the Beldam remained.
He nodded, and wiped away the last of his tears. It was time to move on. There was nothing more he could do here, other than pray for the valley's eventual renewal. And, yes, hope that Someone would care enough to help its revival along.
Faith. He had to have faith.
The Guardian of the Forest Lifted himself up into the smoggy sky. He sailed through purple clouds and vanished in a brief gleam of warm light.
All he left behind was the renewed caw-caw-caw of the now leaderless crows.
OoOoOoO
Author's Note
You may have noticed this already, but Beldam's character is very much based on Hexxus from Ferngully: the Last Rainforest and Vaatu from The Legend of Korra. Not just them being sealed away in a tree by the hero, but their archetypal opposition to the forces of nature and order.
The Lorax is the Guardian of the Forest. Why not give him a deadly counterpart, too, one dedicated to destruction, pollution, and chaos? Thus the Beldam was born.
Originally, this monster was going to be male, and his name was Sludge. He even had a mustache much like the Lorax's, just to showcase how connected they were. But I decided to have a female villain in this story, because that seemed far more interesting. I hope I caught all of the original references to the original plan.
You may recognize the name "The Beldam" from Coraline. It is what the ghost children called the Other Mother. It can also be found in John Keats' famous poem. To the best of my knowledge, is an archaic word meaning old woman or witch.
For that reason, Beldam is not the creature's real name. The Lorax CALLS her that—and yeah, he is essentially calling her an old hag—but she has a proper name. That name will be revealed later.
For the most part, this prologue is a testing of the waters. Hopefully it will draw some interest. I am already working on the next couple of chapters, so I can get ahead in the game.
Reviews are not required, but they are very much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!
Next time on THE LOST VALLEY:
Ted Wiggins discovers a terrible truth—though maybe not the truth you are expecting. Grammy Norma tries to help.