We're getting to the end here. One more chapter after this one! It's been such an incredible journey, and I can't thank you guys enough! Expect a long list of special thank yous in the final chapter! But in the meantime... enjoy Chapter 25.

Music: Stay Alive by Jose Gonzalez; Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford and Sons; Time and Life from the Secret Life of Walter Mitty soundtrack; The Last Seed from the Lorax soundtrack; Let It Grow from the Lorax soundtrack.

Chapter Twenty Five

Audrey

50 Years Later

There's a rhythm in rush these days
Where the lights don't move and the colors don't fade
Leaves you empty with nothing but dreams
In a world gone shallow
In a world gone lean

Sometimes there's things a man cannot know
Gears won't turn and the leaves won't grow
There's no place to run and no gasoline
Engine won't turn
And the train won't leave

-"Stay Alive" by Jose Gonzalez

She pushed the door open just as Sai switched her empty air container with a full one. His face brightened when he saw her. "Mornin', Miss Who!"

Cindy smiled at him, feeling her face crinkle. "Good morning, Sai. How's that little girl of yours?"

"Oh, she's turning nine next week!" he replied happily.

"Nine?" Cindy repeated. "Already?"

He nodded vigorously, hefting her empty container across his shoulder. "Time flies, ya know."

Cindy craned her aching neck back, feeling it pop. "Oh. I know."

Sai continued with his deliveries, and Cindy continued walking down the street towards the bus stop.

She reached it just in time—she was the last to clamber on and find a seat before it took off towards the school. She settled back in her seat, letting her old bones settle. She closed her eyes. Swaying Truffula tufts tickled her memory. She pulled in a deep breath, and opened her eyes again. Fishing inside her purse, she pulled out her wallet. Opening it, she peered at a photo that had been taken years ago—It was her, and her husband, Henry, and their son.

Christopher was twelve in the picture. He still had his freckles, his warm brown eyes that he had inherited from his father. A tender child. Her weathered thumb delicately swiped past the dimpled face. Chris had left the nest years ago, but still lived in Thneedville and visited her regularly. Given her four grandchildren. And Henry….

Henry had been dead for twenty years.

Her eyes hovered over Henry's face for several moments. His dark brown hair was parted to the side, and his crooked grin met hers.

The bus squealed to a halt. This was her stop. She quickly put the photo away, and gathered her things.

Once she stepped off the bus, she was nearly bowled over by a pair of energetic middle schoolers. One paused to quickly apologize. "'Scuse us, Miss Who!" She waved them on. They had a right to be rambunctious.

This was the last week of school.

It was also exactly 50 years since they sealed the wall that enclosed them all in Thneedville.

50 years since she had last seen Once-ler.

Cindy shuffled her way to the front doors of the school, and pushed them open. She nodded at the secretary as she passed the office, then pressed on to her classroom.

The moment she opened the door, the smell of home engulfed her. Paints, pencils, chalk… The art room.

Her art room.

She set her things down in the back room, then eased her way into her chair, worn from all the years she had worked here. She glanced at the clock. The bell would ring in fifteen minutes, and class would begin.

She had a little time.

Checking outside the door to make sure no one was coming, she shuffled to the back room, pulling out a canvas that was hiding behind a supply shelf. She held it out at arm's length, considering it, before she set it on one of the art tables. Then she pulled out some watercolors and brushes, filled a glass with water, and settled down to her artwork.

Staring back at her was a half-finished picture of Truffula Valley. The way she remembered it. In the distance, cresting a hill, was a wagon pulled by a mule. It was too far away to see who was driving, so she imagined Once-ler inside the wagon, out of sight, playing his guitar happily. She smiled a little at the thought, and dipped her brush in the cup of water.

She had just begun applying some paint to the scene, when she sensed a presence at her elbow. She froze, then carefully set her paintbrush down, turning to see who it was.

Audrey stood there, eyes fastened on the canvas. Her eyes widened a little as she looked at Cindy. "What's that, Miss Who?"

Cindy quickly swept up the canvas and stood. "Nothing, dear. Just a side project of mine."

"But… what were those puffy things? They're so pretty!" She tiptoed, trying to see the canvas again. Cindy sighed, and set it back down on the table. Audrey studied it once more, then pointed to a barbaloot playing under one of the trees. "He's cute!"

Cindy smiled. "What are you doing here, Audrey?"

"Oh, I was wondering if you could help me decide on my next project. I'm torn, you see." She paused, then looked back at the painting. "But now…. Could I draw something like this?"

Cindy felt the lines on her face deepen with worry. She glanced at the open door again. "Uh, well, Audrey dear… I think you would be better off forgetting about this painting."

"But why? What are those things?"

Cindy watched Audrey's face for a moment, considering. The child's face was alight with curiosity. Something dark and sad clutched Cindy's old heart as she thought of all these children, not knowing how it used to be…

She didn't know why she was suddenly being so nostalgic about the past. She normally got that way around this time of year, but this time was different. Maybe it was because it'd been 50 years. 50 years was enough time to cushion her from the past, wasn't it?

She made her decision. With a small smile, she pointed at her painting. "These, Audrey, are trees."

Audrey squinted her eyes. "They don't look like trees."

"Not the plastic ones we have. These are real trees. They used to grow everywhere."

Audrey drank in every word she said. Cindy told her everything. She told her how they made fresh air for free. She told her about how silky the tufts were, how they smelled of butterfly milk, how the fruit tasted, how the juice felt dripping off her fingers.

When they could hear the kids flooding inside the school, Cindy quickly replaced the canvas in its hiding spot before rounding on Audrey and taking on a very serious tone. "Audrey, you're not really supposed to know about the trees. So," she smiled and brushed her cheek with an old, weathered finger, "we'll keep this our little secret, okay?"

Audrey bobbed her head up and down before thanking her and skipping off to class.

As students began to fill the art room, Cindy felt lighthearted. Fluttery. Perhaps… just perhaps… she had just planted a seed of change by telling Audrey about the trees.

Summer was several weeks in, and Cindy was enjoying her time reading and painting. She had just hung up a recently painted work of a Truffula tree, with the silhouette of a very distant memory strumming his guitar underneath it, back against the trunk. She stepped back to admire it.

There was a knock on her door.

She sighed, and glanced at the picture once again. Since her conversations with Audrey, she had grown braver and began drawing more landscapes. But she didn't know if she had the courage to display them in her house just yet.

The doorbell rang. Not even a second following, it rang again. And again. Someone was impatient. Cindy's courage took a slight plunge at the thought of someone seeing her painting—right here, right now—and took the painting off the wall, setting it face down on her coffee table.

Whoever was at the door was pounding on it now. "Coming, coming…" Cindy grumbled, making her way to the door.

She froze when she opened it, her nerves suddenly on edge. "O'Hare," she breathed.

The short little man barged into her house, his two henchmen in tow. "Cindly Lou Who," he said, attempting at a friendly, business-like tone. But Cindy knew better.

O'Hare stepped farther into her house, then turned to stare her down. "I thought it was high time we had a little chat."

Cindy pressed her lips together. "Yes?"

O'Hare did an annoying little laugh. "Oh, come now, Cindy. You're not really going to try and play the innocent card, are you?"

Cindy didn't reply. She stared at the little man, hoping he would just get to the point so they could get this over with. O'Hare huffed and spoke on.

"You've been spreading lies, Cindy. Harmful lies."

Something boiled in the pit of Cindy's stomach. "I don't lie," she replied defiantly.

"Oh yeah? Then who's been filling young Audrey's head full of nonsense about… trees?" He growled out the word, as if it offended him.

Cindy allowed herself a sly smile. "It's time someone knew. I hardly see that as harmful."

"Oh, but it is." O'Hare took several steps toward her, then stretched on his tippy toes to try and intimidate her. She held in a laugh. O'Hare might be the most powerful man in the city, but he sure as heck didn't intimidate her. "Audrey was painting trees on a building, Miss Who. That is not acceptable."

Cindy's heart flip flopped at the thought of young Audrey, innocent to O'Hare's greed, dreaming away about the trees that occupied Cindy's own dreams.

"Hardly something a man of your status should be worried about," she said calmly.

O'Hare looked like he was about to throw a rage fit, but instead turned his back on her and composed himself. "I just thought I would let you know that any and all paintings, drawings, or even little doodles of those trees are not acceptable. If you know what's good for you, you'll take my advice—forget the stupid trees. We've moved on to a better, brighter way of living! Stop living in the past."

His eyes wandered to the coffee table, where her framed painting lay face-down. He reached for it, his obsessive compulsiveness kicking in. Cindy didn't stop him. He flipped the painting over. His frown deepened, then he tossed the picture to one of his henchmen. "Get rid of it. And search the house for more."

Cindy had had enough. "You can't do that! That's my work, O'Hare."

He held up a finger. His henchmen were already setting to work tearing through her drawers and closets. "There's a lesson to be learned, here, Miss Who."

"Here's another one!" one of the big brutes announced, holding up the painting that inspired Audrey and made Cindy realize that she couldn't hold the truth in any longer.

"Scrap it," O'Hare said with a wave.

"You can't bully people into doing what you want," Cindy protested. She winced when the henchman ripped her painting in two.

O'Hare assumed attempting his intimidating stance. "Watch me."

Cindy realized that she couldn't do much. He was a man of power. She was an old nuisance. Let them rip apart her house. She would only paint more pictures. She would tell more people about the trees. She didn't care what O'Hare had up his sleeves. What could he do that was as bad as this city not knowing the truth about the past?

So she let them rip into her things, destroy her art. O'Hare would soon see that she wasn't easily scared away.

Once they were finished, O'Hare examined the now-trashed house. "Good work, boys." They headed for the door. Just as he was about to step through it, he looked back at Cindy, jabbing a thick finger at her. "I'll be watching you."

And he slammed the door shut.

Cindy turned the radio on, then set about making a mug of warm milk. A catchy tune played from the living room as she rummaged around the kitchen, pulling out a ceramic mug she had made herself, and filling it with the milk she had heated on the stove. She grabbed a cookie before settling down in her favorite rocking chair, sipping on the milk and closing her eyes, listening to the machine next to her pumping air into the house.

She had lived a fulfilling life. Started a family, kept a consistent job that she loved. She had friends like Norma, and her talents to keep her busy. The children loved her.

And yet.

She hadn't been able to change some things. And that bothered her.

But most of all, she missed Once-ler.

She'd considered sneaking out and seeing him several times. After she had met Henry and became confused with her feelings for him. After they got engaged. After their first big fight. After Christopher was born. When Henry died.

But she never did.

And now… now it was just better to let that whole period of her life go and accept that she would never see Once-ler again. Not even as old friends.

The song on the radio faded out as the song ended, and an excited voice replaced it. "Breaking news here in Thneedville, everyone! It appears that multi-billionaire Aloysius O'Hare, CEO of O'Hare Air, is chasing a boy on a motorbike. On that motorbike is an elderly woman, and a young girl. It appears O'Hare wants something of theirs, and he's not stopping until he gets it! Watch out for those of you in traffic. Be safe!" There were a few commercials, and another song came on.

Cindy gripped her mug tightly in both hands. O'Hare was insane. Who knows what silly thing he wanted from those kids to keep his company thriving?

Cindy briefly wondered if Once-ler, in that last dark year, ever threatened anyone who got in the way of his company. He probably never had to—they all adored him, down to the final moments of his fame. There was a dark humor to how quickly the people of Thneedville shifted their loyalties—one moment he was the greatest man in history, the next, the worst.

He was only a legend now. One that not many people knew.

Two more songs played before the reporter's voice echoed through the radio. "And here we are folks at the city's monumental park, and get this—the elder woman, along with the two kids, have just jumped into a bull dozer! And now… Oh! Heavens! O'Hare's head just got knocked off. Not the real O'Hare's head… the golden statue! They are defacing our city's monument! Is this an act of childish rebellion? And now… Oh no. Oooooooh nooooooo!"

There was a loud crash and screams emitting from the radio, and some static made its way into the audio. Cindy had long set aside her milk, and was leaning intently forward, straining her ears in an effort to learn what was happening. Who were these kids? The elderly woman?

The radio was no longer enough. She had to get a visual. Scrambling for the remote, Cindy switched the TV on.

There was O'Hare's head. It had left a crack in the cement. And there… Oh goodness. Cindy actually stood from her chair. A bull dozer stood, reeking of havoc and destruction. And a large chunk of the wall… an actual chunk of the steel wall had collapsed. She watched, shocked, as the camera shakily zoomed in to the people on the bull dozer.

Her heart nearly stopped. Norma was there. Dear, crazy Norma. And next to her, her grandson. And the final kid….

A girl with red hair and an air of determination on her face.

Audrey.

Behind them, the scenery made Cindy's heart constrict. It was dark. The air was visibly filled with smog. The hills were never ending and bare. Nothing like they'd once been.

Ted climbed to the top of the bull dozer. "I am Ted Wiggins!" he announced. "And I speak for the trees."

Cindy had to sit back down. Her heart flip flopped all over inside her chest. He speaks for the trees. She spoke for the trees once. The Lorax did too.

…Where had Ted gotten that phrase?

He continued. "And the fact is, things aren't perfect here in Thneedville. And they're only gonna get worse unless we do something about it! Unless we change our ways. And we can start by planting this."

The cameras zoomed in as he held something up in his hand.

Cindy peered closely. Once she realized what it was, she cried out. She couldn't help it. A bubble of joy, excitement, wonder, and feelings she couldn't even describe welled inside her until she thought it would burst and send her to an early grave.

A seed.

The seed, she realized.

And it had sprouted.

Change was happening. And it was happening now.

Her doorbell rang. She rushed to answer it, feeling lighter than air, and restless. She flung the door open. "Christopher!"

"Mom!" Her son put both hands on her shoulders, holding her securely in front of him. "I was watching the news. You okay?"

"I'm more than okay!" Cindy peered behind him at his shiny new car. "Chris, you need to take me down there right now."

She looked on as the citizens in Thneedville reached a crescendo in their song. "Let it grow! Let it grow!" they sang. Tears welled in Cindy's eyes as she watched Ted shovel up some dirt, then gently plant the seed inside the earth.

Christopher put an arm around her. "You okay, Mom?"

She swiped away at her eyes. "I will be." She turned to smile at her middle-aged son, who had probably rushed from work to see if she was doing alright. "But I need you to take me somewhere."

She needed to pay a long overdue visit.