This was going to be my entry for Idol, but isn't. I'll just leave it here anyway.

Gather round, children, and I'll tell you a tale. This dark, dank, and crackly, weary forest? Was once a place of illumination. There were shadows and times even wholly darker than now. It has ebbed and flowed with the oceans of time. Waves of darkness and light. But the reason it's changed? The sole reason? Is not simply the light itself... But the light bearers! All working together. That is the secret I share with you today!

The light bearers seek to spread light wherever they can. It's not easy to battle against the Decay, that gooey, tarred and rotting force that oozes into the nooks and crannies of our home, at first unnoticed, then rotting the land from the inside out. The light bearers, though, they're hard at work, always.

Right now, children, there is a goblin who has returned. He wants to spin the light into gold purely for his own greed. Do you know his name? Do you remember it? Yes, that's right - Rumplestiltskin. The better you remember that truth, that he is not your friend, that he seeks only riches for himself, at any cost to life around him, the safer you shall be. Don't let him convince you to be afraid. Fear is the tool he uses to wield his power, and pull others into the Decay with him. He's trying to wall off the light now. He wants to build a dark barrier, and expects to take over the whole area, for everyone in the forest to see things only how he does, through the lens of the Decay. Is that what we want? Right, of course not, my lovelies.

We need to be light bearers, together. We need to hold the light close, and plant seeds of it wherever we can. We can regrow the illumination, can't we? Yes, yes, it IS possible.

Let's do this now... close your eyes and hold out your hands... Yes, do you feel that? Open your eyes and see. I've given each of you the last of the small seeds of illumination, right there in the palm of your hands. Will you go out and seek, children? Plant these seeds, nurture them and seek their growth, and most importantly, seek out any others you can find. Will you? Will you grow this light, and seek out the light bearers? Can you do that, my darlings? It's the only way to discourage Rumplestiltskin from taking over, from infecting others with the Decay. We shall seek, and find, and little by little, grow the light again. Let's illuminate our forest lands, my children, and let's do it together.

LJ Idol // Literary Prize Fight - Week 12 ~ McGuffin

A little girl in an attic sought to be quiet enough to be safe, sought refuge with a pen in the pages of her little book of blank spaces waiting to be filled. She didn't know her words would be spread worldwide, filling the blank slates of tiny humans who can barely comprehend her journey, or why things played out like they did, why she was taken from the world.

A little boy of the same time grew up, observed, took in, and spoke out. This isn't right, he knew. This shouldn't be. He shared with us his Dream. And then someone took him from the world, too.

Get rid of these things, the Takers said of these fine people. I don't want things to be equal. I want things to be more equal for ME! the Takers cried.

Another writer had captured the Takers remarkably well in his own pages, painted them as pigs and sheep, an insult to the pigs and sheep, really.

What the little girl, the Dreamer, and the writer all sought after is the longed-for treasure of Truth And Equity.

And we still seek it.

The truth is, it's a game to the Takers, a game of money and greed. The truth is, it doesn't have to be this way. The truth is, we can do better. So much better than a bully for a President, ripping families from other nations apart, letting children die in ice boxes, and building a giant wall to protect us against what they say is Other, but is really Us.

We can take down that wall, and all the others. We are holding our hammers. We just need to raise them up, as we raise our voices to be heard.

And when we need help seeing how ridiculous it all is, there is nothing more illuminating than a gathering of little children, just like the child in the attic, the little children who sit on the floor, surrounded by volumes and volumes of words that have been put down on blank pages, as they ask, "but why? why was it ever this way?" And we who are grown like the man with the Dream, who share his dream, can only say, why indeed. And clench our grip tighter around the handles we are carrying.

Hard work may make our palms sweaty. But we will not lose our grip.