It was genius. A device not only economically smart, but an invention which could do the job of over a thousand usual household items; maybe even more. He had thought of it on a whim, and perhaps deep down believed that it was absolutely silly. It seemed absolutely silly when explained, at least. How much could one trust in an item called a "Thneed"? It was catchy indeed with a jingle tied to it, but other than that it was completely inane.

Inane, and he had not been more confident in his thoughts ever before.

Finally - for once - things were looking up in his world. He spent hours constructing a general design of the object; sketching, erasing, sketching, erasing, pondering, sketching all over again. It had to be perfect. He needed to know this thing from the inside out, that was for sure. It was not like he could have been doing much else; being condemned to a pair of crutches and a cast had not really enabled much more than sitting around for him. He ate less and less, worked more and more. The only time he would discontinue his excessive planning was when she was ready to teach him his daily lesson. For the first time he had started to feel apathetic towards these brutal beatings. She would do her thing and he would absently daydream of his big plans for the future. She would notice his aloof mindset, pull him in to reality by force, and become frustrated when it only lasted a matter of minutes.

These days it was becoming a routine - more so than it had been one before. The only changing aspect was that she was growing far more tired, not just physically but mentally as well. She was beginning to let his bruises fade. What was more is that some days she would just let him hang there and refuse to touch him, or speak to him at all.

Her pleasure in his pain was diminishing drastically, and the light in his eyes had never been brighter.

His biggest issue for the first time in his life was not learning to cope with the pain for another day, but instead became finding just the right material for this wondrous idea. He had created a few prototypes unsuccessfully; it would not fold the right way, was not soft enough, was too soft. There had to be something out there which would do the job and do it right.

It was not that he hates himself, at least not generally anymore. His reflection had still been repulsive. An image of self-pity and failure. But - he reasoned - maybe he could do something about being a failure. Maybe he was doing something about being a failure.

"Well, Once-ler," he would say to himself each night as his leg healed and his mind swam with fantastic images of success and wealth, fame and fortune. He may have accused himself of being greedy for desiring these things, but he was by fact not as awful as his mother. She lived for the possession of the dollar, and for popularity. Unfortunately she had normally gotten what she wanted. "You are going to be someone one day. You're going to get out of here, and you're going to show the world how amazing your Thneed is; no exceptions!"

Melvin was fantastic. He may have only been a mule, but he was Once-ler's mule and he loved owning something just to himself for once. He almost felt bad when he claimed the creature as his own, but it did not appear to belong to anyone and had just been wandering aimlessly in his vast backyard. Once-ler had always wished for a pet, and although Melvin was unusual to call a domestic animal he had still been charming, and seemed well-trained. They became friends - as owner and animal could - almost instantly.

Moreover, with a strong and well-trained mule, he could easily make a run for it.

Over the course of three nights he would sneak out to the clearing in the woods where he built his wagon and pack it full of necessities. He would have to make the perilous journey as everyone slumbered and had nearly gotten himself discovered on many occasions. With his sprain still sore it had been difficult to maneuver at times and therefore he would be a bit more clumsy than usual. However luck had been on his side, and he would come back each night more accomplished than the one before.

It was the fourth night that he was discovered.

"Hey there brother," Bret called from the back porch. The night was dark and ominous and it was hard for the young Once-ler to distinguish shadows from objects, so he was a bit startled when he heard that familiar voice. Even more so when he realized that the twin was alone; normally him and Chet were inseparable. "Whadda ya doin' so late at night?"

Once-ler immediately grew defensive and frantic, "I could ask the same as you! Shouldn't you be, you know, sleeping? Like everyone else normal?"

"Well if I should be sleepin' then why aren't you?"

"...Alright," he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, "I've been working on...something. I won't be here for much longer okay?"

"What is it? Some sorta vehicle?" the duller of the two asked in his unique drawl.

"That...and more. But that's not important, okay?" Once-ler sighed. He had a feeling that he was getting too comfortable with his routine; something was bound to go wrong sooner or later.

"Iight, sounds good tah me!"

With not another word he had turned around and moved to open the door.

"Hey, aren't yah gonna go work on yer doohickey?"

"Too tired," he admitted. Melvin would have to wait until morning for a formal meal. Until then, there was at least grass in the area he could graze on. "I'm going to get some shut-eye. You should too."

The youthful, newly optimistic Once-ler had never thought his bed would feel so comfortable in his whole life. He could not recall the last time he was able to rest without pain in given places, or at least pain delivered by another. His shoulders and forearms were sore from being held aloft for long periods of time, not to mention working avidly for at least a week now. Had it really only been such short of a time? It amazed him just to know that he could concoct something to genius in such a short period of time and already have a plan to put his ideas to use. Perhaps this was the easy part; he needed to find better suited material after all, and that could take a lifetime.

But at least he was making progress.

Nevertheless, his lids had shut tight sooner than he had ever expected. He dreamed that night for perchance the first time in a decade; he could not remember and cared even less. A fantastic, magical valley of various colored trees which lacked leaves but had an abundance of a substance which was softer, more delicate and even more beautiful than he had ever imagined anything being since he was a small child. The fish sang, the birds were gorgeous and there was a herd of small bear-like creatures which were friendly beyond measure.

All in all, this dream world was perfect.

She hates you.