I would really like some more people to read. Here is the next little bit of the story. Stop me at any time if it needs clarification! It was just another ordinary day at the office inside Disney’s Animation Building when Roy noticed a letter on his desk that wasn’t there a minute ago. The hand writing looked awfully familiar, although he hadn’t seen it in quite a while.
He chuckled to himself as he unfolded the letter. Reading through it, he clicked his tongue as the news got worse and worse. As he put the paper down, he sighed, putting his elbows up on the desk and his hands on his temples.
After a minute or two of silence, he swiveled his chair around to the shelf behind him, where plastic figurines of the first Disney movie stood. He picked up the one resembling Snow White and looked at it, “How am I supposed to find you?”
A knock sounded at his door and he called for them to enter without turning around, keeping his eyes on the plastic figure in his hand.
“Mr. Disney? Amanda Tyler has not shown up for work in two days. We’ve tried calling her, but we only reached her voice… well, somebody’s voicemail. Did she recently change her phone number?” The voice belonged to Bob Thomas, the supervising director of their latest movie, where Amanda worked as an editor.
Roy swiveled back around in his chair, reaching for his phone. “What is the number that you have for her?” After dialing the number Bob called out to him, this is what he heard after several rings:
‘Hi, you’ve reached Adrianna Caselotti. I can’t get to the phone right now, but leave you’re name and number and I’ll be sure to get back to you when I have the chance! Beep!’
“Sir, what should I do about this?” Mr. Thomas asked.
“Just work with the other editors and let me worry about Amanda.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Bob left the office, closing the door behind him.
“No. Thank you.” Roy Disney hurriedly got a piece of paper and a pen and started writing. Folding and addressing it, he walked over to a mirror that was resting on a filing cabinet. Shoving his paper through, another took its place; Roy didn’t bother picking the blank paper up from the ground. He got his coat and hat and headed down the hall, out the door, and towards his car.
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The Witch knew she was going to expect someone at her door, so she had been preparing. She had even tidied up a bit on the upper level of her containment house. Every villain in all of Walt’s World lived in a containment house; each one suppressed their magical powers in a different way, and made it so it was impossible to escape. Although it was impossible for the Wicked Witch to leave the house, it was possible for other people to come and go as they pleased.
The knock that she had been awaiting all afternoon finally sounded at her front door. Putting down the tattered quilt she was folding, she went to answer it.
“Mickey. What a pleasant surprise,” she said, gesturing inside of her house with a cloak-draped arm. “Come in, won’t you?”
Mickey nodded his head and silently entered; the Witch closed the door behind him. “Have a seat anywhere you would like.” Once he was seated in one of the dusty, slightly-worn armchairs, she asked, “And what brings such an honorable guest into my… humble… abode?” She stood in the entryway of her living room, hands folded in front of her.
“I,” Mickey cleared his throat, “was just checking in.”
“Oh, how rude of me.” The Witch walked briskly into the stone kitchen and came back with a pitcher and two glasses on a tray. She poured the dark liquid into one of the glasses, offering it to Mickey. “Here, have a drink.”
“Thank you,” he said, taking the glass but then just setting it down on the low-lying table in front of him.
“Checking in? Don’t the guards usually tend to that? I’m sure you normally do not do such… daunting tasks. You have much more important matters to attend to.” She poured herself a glass and sat across from Mickey, taking a sip.
“But this is an important matter,” he replied.
“Oh?” she said, suddenly more interested. She sat up a bit taller.
Mickey got up, “Do you mind if I take a look around?”
“Of course not,” the Witch said, she put her glass down and stood as well. “Maybe we can get a few other matters straightened out while we’re at it. It seems as though the guards do not relate my many requests to anyone of higher authority. Follow me.” She walked slowly out of the room and to the left, head held high. With the long cloak hiding her legs from view, it was as though she was gliding instead of walking.
Pushing open a creaking, maple door with one hand, the Witch stepped to the side so Mickey could enter. The room was a bedroom, completely packed with oversized furniture until there was barely enough room to walk between them. Two of the tall bedposts seemed to be holding up the sagging, water-stained ceiling near the center of the room. A window on the opposite wall was slightly ajar, letting in a bone-chilling breeze from the outside twilight.
“As you can clearly see, some things here are in dire need of repair. The ceiling leaks, the floors creak, there is a terrible draft,” the Witch lamented to Mickey, watching him walk around her room from the doorway.
He stopped at her vanity; poking around her perfume bottles, he sniffed at some and held others up to the light. A small red and blue box caught his attention. He carefully touched the rusted lock, in the shape of a heart and dagger, and it crumbled away in his hand.
“Do be careful with my things,” the Witch warned as he opened the lid and looked in the empty box. Apparently unhappy about it, he continued his look around her room. Her piercing gaze followed him as he passed her back into the hallway.
The tour of the Witch’s apparent unkempt household continued until they got to the kitchen. “This door leads to the basement?” he asked, pointing a thumb at a particularly battered door with a large lock on it.
“Yes, but I’m afraid it is quite best if my guests do not go down there. The steps are quite slippery because of the leaky roof and it is not exactly accessible. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt now,” the Witch replied.
“Nonsense,” Mickey brushed off her warning, not satisfied that her concern for him not seeing the basement outweighed her concern over his safety. “Can you please show me?”
She sighed but pulled a large key out of the folds of her cloak; the loud sound of the tumblers in the door echoed down the staircase behind the door. With a protesting groan, the door opened inward and the Witch lit and passed Mickey a lantern. “Watch your step.”
Once she entered the staircase after Mickey, lantern in hand, she closed the door and put the key back in her cloak. Mickey noticed that the steps were indeed slippery and there was no railing, but he continued down the narrow steps to the bottom, where he found a very unsightly basement.
“I tried to warn you that it was not accessible,” the Witch said. Moving the lantern around, she illuminated each corner of the dank space in turn. Dust and cobwebs were all over the ceiling and strewn-about objects. There were old pieces of furniture; sofas lay with tarps haphazardly covering them. Broken glass and pieces of mirror covered the only places where Mickey could actually catch a glimpse of the floor. Dismayed, he was just about to turn around when something near the back of the basement caught his eye.
It was a tarp; much like the other ones that lay about. But this one was different. Carefully making his way through the dangerous broken shards that were strewn about, he got a closer look.
The tarp had no dust on it. It was clean, well, much more so than any of the other tarps around it, for sure. And it also looked more cleverly placed; someone didn’t just throw it haphazardly as some of the others were. He frowned at the Witch, who glared back, arms folded across her chest, head slightly tilted to one side.
“I know what you did to her, Wicked Witch,” Mickey said, pointing to her. “And this is what proves it!” And with that, he pulled the tarp off of what it was covering to reveal…
An old end table, one that matched the other that was in the Witch’s bedroom. Surprised, he stepped back and almost dropped the lantern. “But…” he stammered. He guessed, by the horrible damage on the surface of the table, that it was ruined by the leaky roof or the broken window and the Witch had recently sent it down here.
“Mickey Mouse,” the Witch shook her head and made a ‘tut tut’ sound with her tongue. “I would expect more from you. Accusing me of something that you obviously can’t possibly prove. And on top of all that, calling me by my rude, and quite inappropriate, name. Wicked Queen is much more civilized, don’t you think?” She turned away and started back up the stairs, the glow of her lantern growing as faint as her voice, although it didn’t echo like the sound did. “If you are done snooping around my many neglected things, I would very much like to ask you if you could leave my… house.”
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“It is ten past noon, why hasn’t he contacted us yet?” the Prince asked impatiently.
“I know you have been very worried,” Mickey said soothingly, “I am worried, too. But we must be patient.” They stood in an ornamented, yet not large, room in Cinderella’s Castle. Mickey stood facing a large mirror; although he was tapping his foot, the Prince showed even more impatience, pacing around and glaring at a grandfather clock.
“I still cannot believe you didn’t find anything!” he said, “The Witch must have hidden something! People can leave her house; couldn’t they have taken all of the proof with them?”
“It’s possible,” the mouse answered, “I will continue the search for this mysterious person while you are in the World Without Magic.”
“Right. You look for them while I try to convince Snow that-“
“You’re not just going to try telling her, are you?” Mickey asked, not turning around to face him but looking at the Prince’s reflection in the mirror.
“What else do you suggest I do? That seems like the best thing. Besides, she might just suddenly remember when she sees me!” the Prince protested.
“It almost never restores a person’s memory by just telling them the past they don’t remember. Let her find her way by herself, you just have to give her a little push in the right direction,” Mickey suggested.
“And how do I do that?” the Prince asked, walking over to Mickey, intently listening.
“You be there for her. You don’t tell her anything directly, go by a different name, in different clothes. Hint at things from her past, but do not overwhelm her. You might just frighten her.”
“Just hint at things,” the Prince nodded his head, “not to frighten her.”
At that moment, their reflection in the mirror rippled. A second later, their reflections vanished, replaced by a green light. “He’s coming!” Mickey announced.
“Oh dear!” came a voice from outside, a figure came hopping into the room. “I’m here! I’m here!” The little White Rabbit came close to the mirror, red and blue shirt flapping behind him as he got ready to jump through the mirror to take the place of the person about to, in turn, take his.
In the place of the White Rabbit, came a man the Prince had only seen once before- and a man Mickey had seen on numerous occasions. “Roy Disney!” exclaimed the Prince.
“Hello there,” Roy said, “And Mickey, under any other circumstances I would say it is good to see you. I still cannot believe this has happened. After all of the precautions we took to make sure the villains were put somewhere safe, I wouldn’t imagine something so extreme to happen!”
“Yes, and it is so unprecedented. Something like this has never happened before!”
“It must have taken years for the Queen to dream this one up!” Roy said animatedly and he walked to the nearest chair. Although Mickey sat as well, the Prince was too wound up to sit down.
“Now, I have visited the Queen and I have a feeling it might not be her,” Mickey said.
“What?” the Prince argued, “Of course it was her! Who else would have done such a retched thing! Taking away her memory like that… why, it’s almost even worse than the poisoned apple!”
Mickey told Roy exactly what occurred when he went to visit the Queen as well as all of the theories of how she could have done it.
“There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned yet. A very powerful, and potentially evil, device…” Roy was going to say more, but he was too upset to even think about it. He figured that the Prince and Mickey could figure out what he was pointing to.
“The Magic Mirror!” the Prince said, becoming even angrier and more frustrated.
“Now, now,” Roy said, calming him down, “Mickey and I will have to see to that while you take my place in my world. I have one bit of good news, though.”
“What? What is it?” the Prince said, coming closer to Roy excitedly.
“I know where Snow is. She is at the apartment of one of my employees, a Miss Amanda Tyler has not shown up to work recently. When I called her phone number, I heard the voicemail of none other than Adrianna Caselotti-“
“That’s Snow’s other name!” the Prince interrupted.
“Yes, yes. Now, I went to her apartment,” the Prince leaned in and Mickey scooted forward in his chair, “nobody was home. But, she could have been out somewhere. There is no doubt in my mind that that is where she is.”
“This is great news!” the Prince said.
“I told my wife that one of my cousins’ sons would be staying with us for a while to visit the studio. I also told her that I had to travel to New York so she would have to take you home. She’s waiting at the studio right now,” he stood up and started pushing the Prince near the mirror. “There is a dark green bag underneath my desk that has clothes you can wear. Change into some before leaving my office and leave your clothes in the bottom left-hand drawer- I cleared it out just for you.”
“And remember, Prince,” Mickey said following behind them, “to not frighten her. And do not attract attention.”
“You have my word,” the Prince said, “I will bring Snow White back to this kingdom! If it’s the last thing I do!”
And with that, the Prince jumped through the mirror into the World Without Magic; the White Rabbit now stood in front of Mickey Mouse and Roy Disney. “Thank you, Rabbit,” Mickey said.
“Glad I could be of assistance,” he said, looking at his watch and hopping away, “Oh no!” he cried, starting to hop faster, “I’m late!”
“Come on, Roy. We have a special vault to visit.”
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Adrianna walked into a little coffee shop that was on her way to work. She had only seen it from walking by once or twice and had never had any reason to go inside. It was a quaint, family-owned type of place with some casual seating and a nice display case full of Danishes, fruit, and other breakfast tarts. There were only a handful of people- a couple drinking coffee and talking quietly, an old man reading a newspaper, a college girl on her laptop.
She walked up to the young man working at the cash register. “Can I have a… hot apple cider, please?”
“Sure thing,” the man smiled at her, showing a small gap between his front teeth and a gold cap on one side. She smiled back at him before he turned to get a cup; she fumbled around in her purse to get her wallet.
“That’ll be three seventy five,” the worker said, offering the cup which had steam escaping from a hole in the lid. “Be careful, it’s really hot.”
“Thank you,” she said politely to his kind, but needless, warning. She handed him a five dollar bill; when he handed her the change, she just dropped it into the tip jar.
“No, thank you!” he said excitedly as he leaned over the counter to look at the only dollar bill in the jar. “Have a nice day!”
“You, too!” She turned to leave, noticing someone was standing at the entrance. “Excuse me,” she told the stranger.
“Oh, pardon me,” he replied. When he stepped out of the way so she could leave the store, he started walking next to her. “What do you have there?”
“Just some apple cider,” she said, puzzled as to why he wanted to follow her instead of entering the coffee shop.
“You… like apples?” he asked, his brown eyes staring into hers.
She looked away, “Yes. They make a better drink than coffee.”
He chuckled, “That’s true. Coffee is very bitter, but apples are nice and sweet.” She was just about to reply when he added, “Kind of like you.”
Her head snapped back in his direction, “I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more, but I have to go to work now. My shift is starting very soon.”
She walked diagonally quickly to the entrance of the Movie Stop, which they just reached. “Wait!” he said quickly, reaching out suddenly- which made her jump- but then stopping himself. “I was… wondering if maybe we could… meet again sometime?” he took his outstretched arm and moved it behind him to rub the back of his short, brown hair.
Adrianna bit her lip for a moment, but then smiled. “My shift tomorrow starts at the same time. Maybe you could meet me in the coffee shop.”
He broke out into a beaming smile. “I can meet you in the coffee shop!” He turned to walk back the way they had come, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Adrianna!”
She was about to panic as to why he knew her name, but she looked into the glass reflection of the front doors of the Movie Stop and saw that she had her name tag on. Sighing, she entered the store to start another usual shift doing the usual tasks. Little did she know that those tasks that she thought were usual to her were anything but the norm.
