The Enchantress Returns by Chris Colfer

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    “I was at a children’s hospital in Romania, then stopped by an orphanage in Albania,” Mother Goose said.
    The twins looked at each other to see if the other had noticed, but she seemed to be rhyming the more she drank.
    “What stories did you read to them?” Conner asked, stopping her from slipping into unconsciousness. He was so amused he didn’t want it to end.
    “I read them ‘Jack and Jill,’ ‘Little Miss Muffet’—the usual; they were a tough crowd, thought I was delusional.” She yawned but kept her eyes open, excited by the new topic. “Muffet can sometimes be a bit of a diva, but she can’t help her severe arachnophobia.”
    There was no denying it; Mother Goose was in full rhyming mode.
    “Cool,” Conner laughed. “What about Jack and Jill? I’ve always wondered what they were really doing on that hill.”
    Alex elbowed him. Mother Goose sat up in her rocking chair. Conner knew whatever she was about to tell them was going to be good. Alex wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it.
    “Jack and Jill went up that hill, for a supposed pail of water,” Mother Goose said. “Jack fell down, broke his crown, ’cause Jill pushed him—but no one caught her!”
    “No way!” Conner said with an intrigued smile.
    Mother Goose bobbed her head up and down, sloppily nodding.
    “Why did Jill push Jack down the hill?” Alex asked.
    Mother Goose chuckled to herself. “Jack is nimble, Jack is quick—but Jack can be such a—” She stopped herself from finishing the thought, perhaps remembering she was talking to thirteen-year-olds. “I think I’ve had enough bubbly for one night. It’s time for bed anyway.”
    Mother Goose put her thermos in her basket and shooed the twins off. Her head touched her chest, her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep sleep in her rocking chair. She snored like a grizzly bear.
    “I like her!” Conner said with a goofy grin, climbing up the stairs to bed.
    “She’s quite the gossip, isn’t she?” Alex said.
    “Sure is,” he said. “And she really lets loose after a few sips of whatever she was drinking.”
    Alex paused halfway up the staircase and looked back attheir sleeping caretaker. “Yeah, she certainly does.…” She began forming a plan in her head.

    Alex tossed and turned all night long, having the worst nightmare of her life. It started off as the same dream she had been having for months; she and her brother ran happily through the woods only to be kept outside of their grandmother’s cottage. However, this time when they peered through the window they didn’t see their grandmother, but their mother. She was crying and whispered, “Help me!” over and over until Alex woke up.
    Alex was shaking and sweaty and began crying. For all she knew, it wasn’t just a dream. Her mother could be in serious danger or seriously hurt.
    Alex couldn’t live like this anymore. She needed to find out what was going on by any means possible.
    Later, when the rest of the house had woken, Alex went downstairs and found Conner, Mother Goose, and Bob having breakfast.
    “Good morning,” Bob said. “How’d you sleep?”
    “I didn’t,” Alex said.
    “Sounds like we had similar nights,” Conner said, looking at her with bags under his own eyes.
    “I’ll pour you some cereal,” Mother Goose said. She went into the kitchen and poured milk and cereal from a box of Mother Goose Grits. A cartoon illustration of a much happier and smiling Mother Goose was displayed on the box.
    She placed the bowl of cereal in front of Alex. “Goose grits?” Alex said. “Should I ask?”
    “Don’t judge me,” Mother Goose said. “I usually hate the depictions of me in this world—they’re normally so degrading. But I tried having an open mind about this cereal when they came out with it, and I’ve been addicted ever since.”
    Alex shrugged and took a bite—it wasn’t half bad.
    “Mother Goose was just explaining to Bob all about the fairy-tale world,” Conner