The orange and yellow glow of the sunrise radiated it's light onto the small town of Storybrooke. The municipality slowly awakened to life as the sun did, and birds chirped their soft hum as they always did at this hour. This might've not been the liveliest town, but it sure was peaceful. Especially for morning walks, or a quiet place just to clear your head once in a while.

It was Sunday, no school, no bus to run to because you woke up later than you expected, and no waking up before the rest of the world did. But today, it was different. I chose to get up early, because I knew Mary Margaret was always at the school readying for the week at this time. She was quite the strategic type, and a morning person. You'd constantly catch her admiring the facade that lied beyond her classroom window, no wonder though. Every animal in the universe praised her, they weren't even the tad bit afraid of approaching her. While I couldn't even get a bird to land in my yard, she had them perched in rows up and down her arms like trained pets. I didn't get her, but she sure got me. Like she'd known me for my entire life - well, she has. Her and my mother didn't get along very well, and I never really knew why. Mary Margaret was kind, and possibly had one of the biggest, most giving hearts a person could possess. I've tried to confront my mom about it, but she pushed the question out of her way and continued with her busy day. Filled with papers, and phone calls. It just didn't make any sense to me, but I learned to live with it. Like her scolding Mary Margaret on the phone was a regular thing, for whatever she had done this time.

I approached the doors that led into the small school building. I leaned in towards the dark windows, and cupped my hands over my eyes to try and peek into the empty halls. There was a dirty mop leaned against the wall, but no janitor in sight. Nothing but uncleaned floors, and empty rooms. My palm wrapped gradually around the polished handle, and twisted it open with ease. The large door creaked and groaned as it slowly swung open on its hinges. The groggy smell of old peanut butter sandwiches, and floor polisher swept it's way over to me and filled my nose. I held back a gag, and collected myself before taking a few steady steps into the building. There was a squeal of a mouse, and tiny nails hitting the marble floors as it scurried away. From outside, the view of the school was magnificent - it looked like a child's dream school. But once you took a foot into the edifice, the interior looked like something not so abandoned, but manifested with nothing but old walls and rooms that were due for a cleaning. We never had an inspector, or the town sheriff come in and inspect the place. It was just... there. There was no need to, I guess. Not even the parents of all these children were worried, except mine. Of course, a Mayor is supposed to worry about the cleanliness of her town, but the school was something else. Probably because I was there most of the day, and she wanted me to be safe and spotless 24/7. I didn't complain though, she cares. I usually just shrugged it off. That's what mothers were supposed to do right? Worry?

My sneakers screeched and scraped down the hall, the noise of rubber hitting marble echoed through the premises and caused the hair on my neck stand straight up. The luminescence of the sunrise poured through the cloudy windows, and shadowed onto the floors with a soft glow. This place didn't get much sunlight, mostly because our janitor didn't know how to scrub some windows once in his life.

There was the soft hum of a voice, a beautiful voice. It rang, and bounced off the walls surrounding my ears and it was actually quite pleasant. I knew that voice anywhere, everyone did. The womans voice was gentle, yet so powerful with emotion and warmth. No wonder animals liked her so much. The singing came from a few doors down the hall, which gave me the comfort of not having to search the entire school for her. My feet carried me all the way down to the large cracked open door.

I rose my fist to knock lightly on the wood, but paused as the singing turned into talking.

"Come in, Henry." Mary Margaret turned her body to face the door, as I softly pushed it open to enter the small room.

" How'd you-" I was cut off, with the shake my head.

"I could hear your sneakers a mile away," she grinned, a soft chuckle escaping her throat, "What do you need?"

I stayed silent, surprised by the fact she obviously knew I came for something. My jaw unlatched and hung open for a moment, before I finally found the words I was looking for.

"I need a book," I shrugged and shifted on my feet awkwardly.

She furrowed her brow and her gaze glanced over to the small makeshift bookshelf she had by her desk, "A book? Well, why didn't you ask? I've got some great novels you'd probably like." A smile spread across her face, you could see the energy bursting inside of her in excitement. Reading was also sort of her thing, and when other students asked for some recommendations she would go on for hours about Roald Dahl, Pat Conroy, and so many other authors she adored. She was book crazy, and it was actually quite funny and entertaining sometimes. It would get her off topic, and we'd spend the whole class talking about some old book nobody cared about.

She started to waltz towards her bookshelf, before I stopped her.

"No, I'm looking for a fairy tale kinda book. I was wondering if you had one?" I asked, raising a brow afraid of her answer. I basically shriveled into a corner as she looked at me as if she had never heard of such a book.

"I-I may..." She answered, uncertain. She continued to head towards the stacks of novels, and children books. Her petite hands searched through the thick and thin volumes of books, and her eyes scanned each title.

"What's so important about this fairy tale book, Henry?" She glimpsed back at me, "You've never asked for a book from me before."

There it was again, the stuttering and hung open mouth searching for words. I didn't know if I should tell her about the stranger who walked into my house uninvited and told me to look for a book that may or may not be real. I'd probably be sent to Archie, and I really didn't want to go see him more than I had to. He was nice, and I knew he was just doing his job - but I hated talking to people about things I didn't want to. I've only gone to his office once or twice, because my mother thought I was going through a stage of sorrow or something. She got worried after she had told me about my adoption, and I ended up thinking too hard about it and upsetting myself. But once I assured her that I was perfectly fine, she finally cancelled my appointments. Thank goodness.

"I just... got into reading recently -"

"About fairy tales?" Mary Margaret giggled, "I felt you were more of a Stephan King sorta kid," she cracked a joke to herself, and organized her bookshelf before straightening up and turning back to me.

"Yeah.. I guess all those bedtime stories got to me..." I forced a laugh, and stuck my hands into my coat pockets.

Mary nodded, and her shoulders heaved up in a shrug, "Sorry Henry, I don't have any ancient fairy tale books that would suit you. I only have novels, and old children's books."

My heart dropped in disappointment, and I let out a sigh of defeat. I knew it - I had that thought, that little idea in my mind that was saying that this book wasn't even real. The August man was just a phony and a creep, who wanted to give kids false hope. But why was I getting upset over a dumb book anyway? Because it had something to do with my mom, maybe. Considering this guy told me my mom wouldn't be home for a couple weeks, and she was in a near death situation, I was pretty worried and hoping for something to hold onto. Who knew, my mom could be sleeping peacefully in a hotel room right now, maybe even on her way home because that stupid meeting got cancelled. I just needed all the hope I could get right then.

"Yeah... it's okay - I didn't really expect you to have it anyway," I looked to the ground, and shuffled backwards, "thanks anyway," I forced a grin, and turned around swiftly to quickly trudge over to the door.

"Henry," she spoke up, and I stopped, "if this is about your mom... I bet she's perfectly fine - she'll be home in a few days, hang in there." I felt a pain in my chest, but it wasn't physical pain. More like emotional. My mom. If she knew what I knew, or what I think I knew, she wouldn't be giving hope speeches.

"Yeah, thanks." I muttered, and strolled out of the room without another spoken word to my favorite teacher.


The chime of the bell that hung above the door at Granny's diner rang as I rushed through the entryway. Surprisingly there weren't many people there, like there usually were in the mornings. A lot liked to go get their morning coffee's and some of the finest breakfast dishes here, before they went off and did whatever they occupied their time of day with. If I was lucky, and my mom was in a particularly good mood, she'd take me here before school and we'd have breakfast together. Then she would walk me to school, so I wouldn't have to ride that god awful bus full of wailing children who acted as if school was a torture chamber. In reality it was just school, somewhere every kid had to go to be able to be succeed in life, or at least that's what my mom always says.

My adolescent legs carried me over to one of the stools by the counter. I let out a huff of defeat as I plopped down on the cushioned seat, and rested my body against the counter top. I was so disappointed in finding a pointless book, that I forgot to worry about my mom. The whole accident, and near-death experience? Maybe that's what he wanted me to do, to worry. To focus my mind on this stupid book that may not even be real, because I did somewhere deep down, believe it was. That maybe it was a key to figure out if what happened to my mother was true, and so I could have that closure to know that she's alright and breathing. Why was I believing this guy anyway? This August.

"Hey kid, what're you doing here?" A familiar voice broke my train of thought, and my eyes shot up to meet Ruby's. She waltzed towards the other side of the counter, and faced me with a smile.

"Well I sorta haven't managed to learn how to cook myself food yet," I joked, flashing a smile back.

"Can't you conjure up a bowl of cereal?" She rose a brow, and tapped her nail on the marble, "Hot chocolate?"

"Don't forget the cinnamon," I giggled, sitting straight up and taking in a deep breath as she walked back into the kitchen. I shifted in my seat, and didn't seem to notice the ringing of the bell as someone else came into the diner. I must've gotten stuck back into my own thoughts, and emotions of all these situations. One day. One day, my mom's been gone and I've already talked to a stranger, searched for a strange book the stranger want's me to find, and come up empty handed and filled with doubt and worry. Great.

"Guessing you didn't find it then." Speak of the devil.

I turned my head to find August finding himself comfortable on a stool next to me. He grinned, and let out a sigh of, I don't know, disappointment maybe? My lack of response and utter sorrow gave him the hint. He shrugged, and shook his head before his eyes locked back onto me.

"Don't worry, you'll find it. Don't lose your hope just yet kid," he patted my back gently, and folded his hands on the counter.

"No I won't," I muttered, my anger finally trying to escape, "I can't do anything right. I don't even know why I'm looking for this imaginary book-"

"Henry, this book is very real. And it's very important that you're the one who finds it." He stuttered, confident yet he seemed nervous.

"Why me? Why am I so important? There are tons of other kids here, go bother one of them," I snapped, resting my chin of my propped up fist.

August swallowed, and clenched his jaw before responding back, "It's hard to explain, but I promise - once you find this book it'll all make a lot of sense."

I turned to him, and furrowed my brow. He was crazy, just plain and utterly crazy. He walked into my house, and spoke of a book that apparently gave me all these answers I had to his stupid theories? I didn't know why some of me believed him, or even continued to talk to him. But, I still had these bits and pieces of hope that I clung onto for dear life.

My lips parted to argue back, but Ruby exited the kitchen with my freshly made hot chocolate in her hands. She paused in her steps, as her eyes scanned over August in confusion, before continuing and setting the warm mug in front of me.

"Here you go Henry," her eyes never left August, "do you know this guy?" She asked me, as if she was being my protective mother. I glanced between the two, and finally nodded gently in conformation. She looked him up and down, and locked eyes with me. I knew that glare, she was worried. It made me feel safe, to know that someone actually looked out for me. Of course, I had my mom. But she wasn't around most of the time, usually off doing work things. Yanno, her being Mayor and all. So she didn't have time to hear my sob stories, and complaining about things that upset me.

I gave her another nod, and forced a soft grin.

"I'll just sit here then... and make sure everything's all right," Ruby stated cautiously looking over August once more before taking a few steps back and fumbling with empty cups. I held back a giggle at her attempt to make sure I was safe, and shook my head.

"Well, I better be going then. I don't think your friend likes me very much," August lifted himself from the stool, and stood up sliding into his heavy coat before facing me.

"And Henry..." I looked up at him, confused, "remember, if you can't find the book - it'll always find you."


"Good morning, Madam Mayor."

My eye lids slowly lifted, like a curtain, revealing a tall blonde entering the room with a tray. I shook myself from the weariness that surrounded me, and fluttered my eyes to clear my poor vision. The blonde's hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her face plastered a smile down upon me. Once I could actually begin to understand my surroundings, I lifted the corner of my lip to grin back at her. It was all the energy I had, or that I wanted to use anyway.

"Good Morning Ms. Swan," I replied, my voice scratchy. I wanted to sit up, but I couldn't move. Pain coursed through my nerves, keeping me in place and unable to barely lift a finger. Not again. I was done with pain, with just utter torment. Once I flinched, Ms. Swan must've took that as a hint right away.

"A nurse should be right in to give you some pain medication," she nodded softly, and deliberately sat down the large tray blanketed with food on the over bed tilt top table, that hung on the side of my bed, "I just came to bring you some food." She did this nervous little giggle, and stuck her pale hands into her coat pockets. I wanted to laugh, not being rude. Because it was sort of funny, to see someone so nervous around me that wasn't a former cursed citizen of Storybrooke. The glint in her pastel green eyes showed me that she didn't just come to bring me food, she had something to tell me. After being a pretend Mayor for a town for 28 years I can tell someone's emotions just by studying their eyes. Plus, I also was a former Evil Queen. I had some hidden secrets.

I prepared my damaged lungs to speak again, taking in a large breath, "Considering you are a surgeon... and nurses are usually the ones bringing the food-" I ran out of breath. I closed my eyes, and concentrated, inhaling, "I have a feeling you are doing more than just supplying me with meals." The corners of my lips turned upright in a grin, as I gazed up at the woman. Her smile faded into a gentle frown, as her eyes found the floor.

"Well, aren't you clever Ms. Mills," Emma chuckled, and removed her hands from her pockets and continued to fiddle with her thumbs. I rose a brow up at her, and she proceeded to inch closer to me and end up sitting on the end corner of the bed. She was careful not to move me, "I-you- you've got to undergo another surgery. For your spinal cord, it-it's not quite fixed yet." Her face was masked with uncertainty and panic. For what reason, I don't know. Maybe, my reaction, "Your backbone is severely fractured, and is staying stable through these shots I have to give you." She tried to keep it as simple as possible, with shorter words.

"No-no, I have to get back to my son. I only told him I'd be gone for a few days-"

"You have a son?" Ms. Swan furrowed her brow over at me, in confusion. Like it was strange for a woman to have a child. I wasn't sure if she had some sort of short term memory loss, or just wasn't listening to me. But I was almost positive I had told her about Henry just less than a day ago. My lack of response shot her a signal, and she shook her head immediately, "Sorry- shit, I don't know how I forgot about that," she exhaled, "I've just been.. feeling weird lately."

"He's only 8... turning 9 in a few days," that was when reality hit me, I could potentially miss my child's birthday, "I need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible." The anger that sprung from nowhere took all the energy I had left in my body. My chest heaved up and down in exhaustion, and lack of oxygen. Emma's lips parted, wanting to jump in and say something to calm the woman down, but no words came to her mind. I looked down at the blonde, I could feel the panic in my eyes sinking deep in her skull.

"I'll try my best to get you out of here as soon as I can Madam Mayor.. you just have to trust me," Emma swallowed, and gazed back at me with this time - certainty, "I won't let you miss your son's birthday." But we both knew that was a lie, even if I didn't need a damn surgery on my back I wouldn't be able to leave for at least a few weeks at the most. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to drive. I cursed to myself under my breath, and avoided any eye contact with the blonde for the seconds I needed to regain my heading. My son was being left with Granny for weeks on end with no explanation. This was worse than a curse on my part.

I found Emma's eyes again, and hesitated before giving a soft nod. Tears swelled in my eyes, and threatened to spill over onto my cheeks. But I held them back with everything I had. The last thing I needed was someone to see me like this. Weak.


Tears stained my cheeks, and soaked into my pillow that engulfed every wrenching cry and wail that escaped my throat and lungs. I could feel the redness in my cheeks, and I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my head. I haven't cried like this in so long, and truthfully - why was I? Nobody cries over books, unless your a girl who reads constant love sick novels every hour of the day. But this book - it was different. I wanted to find it so bad, like it was a piece of a puzzle to seeing my mom. To seeing that she was okay, and healthy and thinking about me wherever she was. This book, that a strange man told me about was just so important, that it had me sobbing into my sheets and pillows full of sorrow. How could I have this attachment to this book that I haven't even laid eyes on yet, or even opened to read the pages?

It was because I was meant to believe I would have this piece of my mother.

But she had never seen this book either, right? How could this be something that could keep me close to my mother when she had never laid a palm on it either. None of this made sense, but neither did this town, or these people. Or even my life. I didn't even know much about life. I sniffed and rose my head from my pillow, a cool blast of air surrounding me immediately. The dark, loneliness of my room didn't help my sorrow anymore than my thoughts did. I let out another gentle cry, and my shoulders shook. I wiped the stained tears from my hot cheeks, and flung the sheets that covered my body to the floor in anger. My hands gripped around the soft edges of my pillow, and swung it forwards to hit the wall opposite of me. No matter how angry I was, I knew my mom would've been angrier if I threw something hard enough to break another. So I used my resources and threw the softest, and closest things to me. Until I was left shivering on my plush mattress.


The next morning I walked to school alone. There was no way I was going to ride that dreadful bus, especially today. My brain couldn't handle anymore wailing, including myself. My eyes threatened to shut every few seconds, from the lack of sleep I had gotten. Due to throwing my pillows and covers, I really had no choice but to stay up and weep myself to an hour to two of sleep. My book bag felt like a thousand pounds crushing my shoulders, and my feet dragged along the floor like weights.

The entire day went by like a blur, with teachers calling on me and my only response being silence and moping. No asks about what was wrong was fine with me, but I knew the second I walked into Mary Margaret's class, she'd lock onto me like a target. But this time, she didn't ask. She only gave me doleful looks, and worried expressions like I were her own child. She tried to avoid eye contact every once in a while, but always failed miserably. Like a toddler trying not to eye the cookie jar, that had just been refilled. My head rested in my folded arms on the desk, and I swear I passed out in short minute naps every moment I got.

Halfway through the class, after Mary Margaret had just got done giving directions about another pointless worksheet that had been handed out, she headed straight towards me. She had a gaze that had the look of 'I have something to tell you kid'. I should've known she wouldn't keep to herself, but another part of me liked that she was worried and wanted to help. It was nice.

She had her arms behind her back, in a sort of secretive way. Just like my mother was on my birthday so many years ago, with the bright blue truck. That memory re-appearing in my mind also did not help my moping. My frown got deeper, and I just wanted to bury my head lower into my arms.

"You won't believe this Henry," she smiled down at me. Her glowing personality gave me no choice but to become interested in what she had to say. With a swift movement of her arm she sat down a large beat up volume in front of my countenance, "I found your book."


My feet practically were full of energy as I stomped down the road, and all the way back to my house. The blood pumping threw my veins, and my heart beat racing in a good way this time, made a large smile spread across my face in pure joy. My bag felt like air was resting on my back, and my eyes darted left to right. I couldn't believe this.

I skid to my left as I tried to stop as quickly as possible to turn and run up the path to my door. My legs flew up the stairs to the porch, and my palm gripped around the door handle. I swung it open, and this time I didn't take my shoes off. I ran throughout the house, joy soaring through my blood.

"August! August, where are you!" I gasped for air as I shouted his name through the vacated home, "August, I found it! I found the book!" I giggled in triumph, and threw my arms in the air in victory. I didn't even care if he wasn't here, I just didn't. But for whatever reason he couldn't appear out of nowhere and see me this time, it was odd. But all I cared for in that moment was the large novel that weighed down in my palms.

It read, 'Once Upon A Time.'

Of course, he was right. It was real. And it was here, in my hands. I flung my book bag to the ground, and my feet pounded as I rushed into the kitchen. I jumped into a chair, almost knocking it down with myself in it. I slammed the book onto the table, and my fingers fumbled with the hard cover. I gave up, and just hurled it open to a random page, but quickly flicked the pages all the way back to the very first. A beautiful, painted like, picture came into view. And on the page next to it, filled with gorgeous writing. My head dodged back and forth between the pages, before I realized what I was looking at. A woman, dressed in a long black dress, seemed to be standing in a castle. People surrounded both sides of here, as if they were at an event. Maybe, even a wedding. The dark-haired woman was fierce , and looked to be feared and powerful. Much like, a villain. She wore a headpiece of lace, and her hair was long and in what seemed to be some sort of an up-do. She was confident, and intense. Evil.

This was a fairy-tale book. Why didn't this surprise me? My eyes darted to the right, and scanned over the cursive text.

'The Evil Queen...'

My eyes scanned the picture once more. August said everyone in this town was a fairy tale character out of this book.. who was she?

Then, like magic had taken me over - the features and small, neat details came together like a puzzle and my head seemed to put two and two together like it was meant to. The features on the woman's face came into clear view, like a memory. The dark hair, dark eyes, strong prominent qualities of her face. It all jointed into one piece like a flashback, and my joy and glee turned into ambiguous and exasperation.

That was my mom.