Disclaimer, I do not own The Land of Stories Series. This magical and enchanting story was written by Chris Colfer.

Chapter One: Scars From The Past

"Once upon a time," Mrs Peters said looking around intently at her seventh grade class.

"Such a simple phrase, but such a powerful one too. When I hear those words, it gives me so much hope. It reminds me that there are so many possibilities good and bad. Maids can be princesses, people living below the poverty line can be millionaires. Something that you may think is ugly and useless could turn into the most beautiful and valuable thing you've ever known."

Mrs Peters paced as she spoke, making sure that every student was in her line of sight. She was a tall woman with curly dark hair that sat on top of her head like a hat. Her eyes were permanently squinted, and she gave the aura of someone not to be crossed. Teaching was her greatest passion, and from a young age, she'd known that educating and guiding young minds was her calling.

"Fairy Tales," she continued unfazed by her class's inert demeanour.

"They can teach so much, so many valuable lessons hidden beneath brightly coloured characters and quirky stories. But if you look hard enough you're sure to find them. Cinderella for example, teaches us the value of hard-work, and that good things come to those who have good and kind hearts. Little Red Riding Hood teaches us to be wary of strangers and to be aware of our surroundings. These days, fairy tales are being substituted with lacklustre cartoon or movie versions of these beautiful and informative stories. Would there still be so many children being abducted if kids knew Red Riding Hood's story? Would there still be high crime rates if kids knew what happened to Goldilocks?"

Mrs Peters went on and on absorbed in her spiel unaware of the lack of attention of one of her students.

Connor Bailey sat at the back of the class letting his teacher's words wash over him. His mind felt hazy and his head felt heavy. It took all his effort not to put his head on his desk and just sleep. He wasn't surprised that he felt so tired. Last night, he had stayed up until midnight finishing a horror movie despite his parents' protestations. He couldn't help it. The music, sound effects and costumes reeled him in like a fish on a fishing line. Once he was hooked, he was hooked. Connor had strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to dance with humour every time he spoke. His face was round and freckly, and he resembled his father greatly.

"Mr Bailey!"

Connor jolted at the sound of his name. His eyes were shut, and his head drooped to his chest. He sat up quickly.

"Yes Mrs Peters."

"I suggest you try to stay conscious in my class if you intend to pass your English paper Mr Bailey, unless you know more about fairy tales than I do."

The class was completely silent. All eyes were on Connor, and he felt heat rush to his cheeks.

"I bet I do."

"What was that Mr Bailey?"

"I bet I do know more about fairy tales than you Mrs Peters."

"Alright then, answer me this. How long did Sleeping Beauty sleep for before true love's kiss woke her?"

A moment's pause fell over the room.

"Um, 100 years. Sleeping Beauty slept for 100 years."

"Correct."

Connor sighed with relief, and sent thoughts of thanks to his dad who had read him fairy tales ever since he could remember.

Just then, the bell rang, and as one, the students began to gather their belongings.

"Homework," Mrs Peters called over the rush.

"Write an essay on a fairy tale of your choice and what moral lessons your chosen story teaches us. Also, your math papers have been marked. Please collect them on your way out."

The class filed out quickly, Connor bringing up the rear. He collected his math paper from Mrs Peters and made his way through the halls and out of the school.

"Hey Connor!"

Connor looked around to see his best friend Mark jogging up to him.

"Hey Mark, what's up?"

"Are you coming down to the court?"

"But we don't have basketball practise."

"Yeah, but we're just playing for fun. You know, no coach breathing down our necks."

"Sorry man, but gotta get home."

"Oh come on, you never come at our hang outs."

Connor sighed. Mark couldn't possibly understand the roots of his mom's strict attitude. Ever since Connor could wander, his mom had given precise instructions on the best route to take, the exact time he was to be home, and not a minute late. The thought of telling his friends he kept pepper spray in his bag, that he took self-defence classes, and fencing classes made his stomach churn with embarrassment. Kids his age were all playing video games and going bowling or something. They didn't have schedules that resembled athlete or military training regiments.

The two boys had reached the school gates, and the torrent of students had become a trickle. Mark looked at him intently his eyes steady.

"I promise I'll come next time," Connor tried.

"You said that last time."

"I promise dude. I'll go above and beyond in convincing my mom. My dad will probably help me."

At last, Mark gave in.

"Fine," he said reaching into his bag.

"But you've got to come to my birthday. We're going ice skating, and after, we're going to see that new horror movie that just came out."

"That's sounds awesome," Connor said as Mark handed him an envelope.

With a final wave, the two boys went their separate ways, Connor taking the left path, Mark taking the right.

Connor began his walk home enjoying the cool breeze against his face. He took his time, leisurely inspecting the varying states of gardens of the houses he past.

He past one overgrown with weeds, the long grass almost to his knees. The smell of fresh baking made his mouth water as he past, and a little girl with blonde pigtails played happily on a swing set. The next garden was the complete opposite. The hedges were neatly trimmed, roses of every colour filled the garden, and their sweet fragrance permeated his nostrils.

"I wonder if Alex would've liked living here?" he found himself thinking.

Here I go again. Thinking thoughts that just go round and round like carousels. Asking questions that I'll probably never get the answers to.

But all the same, every time his thoughts returned to his lost twin sister, he couldn't help but ponder the what ifs and the what could have beens.

To Connor's surprise, he found his mind wandering back to Mrs Peter's English lesson. If maids can become princesses, rags into beautiful ball gowns, then maybe, an incomplete family could be reunited. Surely it was like finding the missing piece of a jigsaw, but at that thought Connor pulled a face. Finding a missing puzzle piece was almost as difficult as algebra.

"My math paper!"

Connor stopped, rummaged inside his bag and took out his now slightly crumpled math paper. He turned it over and a red D was clearly marked on the front.

"No surprises there," he thought.

"At least it wasn't an F."

Stuffing the paper back into his bag, Connor turned into his street. The sun was still high in the sky, and as Connor walked, leaves crunched beneath his feet.

"I wonder if Alex is good at math?"

Connor found it quite amazing that his sister could be anywhere in the world. Maybe where she lived, it was snowing, and she'd be sitting inside with a good book and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Or maybe, she lived in a tropical area, full of mango trees, and she'd be sitting in a clay hut enjoying the ripe mangos and bananas, their sweet soft textures fresh and pungent on her tongue. Where ever she was, or whatever she was doing, Connor sincerely hoped that she was happy and that she had parents and friends who loved her.

"Connor! Where have you been!"

For the second time that day, Connor jumped at the sound of his name.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't realise he was already at the front door. Connor loved his home. The house was picturesque as if it had come straight out of one of his dad's storybooks. The house was big and painted a bright cheery blue with white trim. Its roof was pointed, and the gardens were vibrant with flowers. A tall oak tree stood in the spacious yard, its branches swaying slightly in the breeze. If houses could smile, this one would be grinning from ear to ear.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's 3:30. You're suppose to be home by 3:25."

Connor's heart sank. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

"Mom, I'm sorry you were worried. But I was just talking to Mark. He invited me to his-"

"How could you forget this!" Charlotte demanded brandishing pepper spray under his nose.

"I guess it just slipped my mind. Won't happen again, I promise."

"Slipped your mind! Connor, you need to take this more seriously. You never know what could happen out there. You need to be prepared for anything. This world can be cruel."

Charlotte Bailey was a pretty woman, with big dark eyes and chestnut hair. Although she was uptight and anxious most of the time, she was friendly and her lips were often seen smiling. But at that moment, she looked quite scary. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her cheeks were red with exasperation. Charlotte's eyes were hard as she spoke, her posture stiff, every muscle tense.

Connor just nodded along with her. It was easier not to argue even though in his almost 13 years of life, not a single life-threatening event had occurred around him.

"You've been late twice now Connor, and you've forgotten your spray who knows how many times. I'm walking you to school for the rest of the week and the week after that just to be safe."

"Mom you don't need-"

"I'm coming with you. End of discussion. Now, go get changed. You have fencing class."

With that, Charlotte turned her back and walked inside the house leaving a befuddled Connor with no choice but to follow.