Here is a short story I am about to submit for a contest. They asked for a fairy tale that could educate about climate change. This is what I came up with. I still have a couple days before the story is due, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
Once upon a time, quite recently in fact, a Boy stepped onto a train. The Boy was traveling to Bodø, all the way in the north of Norway, to visit his grandmother.
Trains in northern Europe are the sorts of places where adventures are neither expected nor tolerated. But sometimes adventures happen despite the best efforts to avoid them.
And it was not long before adventure collided headlong with the Boy. On his way to the dining car, the Boy spotted a large white blur charging at him. Before he could duck out of the way, the blur had bowled him over.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said a deep, panting voice. The Boy found himself staring up at a towering polar bear. He was too stunned to speak. Polar bears were nearly extinct, and rarely seen on passenger trains.
“Are you okay?” the Bear asked frantically. “I didn’t see you there.” He looked nervously behind him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. I’ve always wanted to meet a bear before.”
“I’m not worried that I might get in trouble. I’m worried about the hunter chasing after me. Tell him you haven’t seen me.” The Bear swiftly unlocked the vestibule door, and with the cold wind rushing in around them, climbed up onto the roof. “Close the door behind me, if you would.”
Moments later, a man leisurely stepped into the vestibule. He sported a Norfolk jacket and hat in the same blue and red material as the train’s upholstery, allowing him to blend in with his surroundings. He had even died his beard a checkered red and blue pattern.
Wanting to seem casual, the Boy put his hands in his pockets and whistled.
“Hey, have you seen a bear?” The Boy did not answer but simply nodded his head.
“You did? Where’d he go?” The Boy pointed towards the next car. He was a right awful liar, and did not dare look the Hunter in the face.
“Thanks.” The Hunter hurried on, mumbling to himself, “Strange kid.”
Once the Hunter was gone, the Boy tried reopening the vestibule door, only to find it locked. He was forced to bang as loudly as he could on the glass. The Bear popped his head in the window, smiled at the Boy, then climbed back inside.
“Thanks.” His voice rumbled louder than the train.
“You need to hide.”
“I know, but where? The roof is too dangerous. I won’t fit through the tunnels.”
“Have you tried the engine car?” the Boy asked. “Maybe you can hide there.”
“It’s no good,” the Bear lamented. “The door’s double locked, and they won’t open it no matter how hard you knock,”
“What about this?” the Boy pointed towards the janitorial closet. Unfortunately, when he tried the handle, it was locked.
“Allow me.” The Bear reached out his hand, inserted one long claw into the lock, and the door clicked open.
“As long as they aren’t double locked, my claws work like a skeleton key.”
They crammed into the closet together, the Bear on the bottom, filling in the tiny room like a wet sponge, and the Boy stuffed on top, his head nearly touching the ceiling. He snuggled tightly on the Bear’s back. He was no fan of tight spaces, but should the bear grow hungry, at least he would have no way of turning the Boy into a snack.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I don’t know. It just seems unfair for you to be shot by some hunter. You weren’t doing anything to him.” The Boy paused, before adding, “You didn’t eat his parents or anything?”
“No. I have never seen him before.” The Bear sighed heavily. “Most humans do not care about what happens to bears. They think we are the only ones to be affected by climate change.”
“Everyone will be affected,” corrected the Boy, who knew something of global warming from school. “Why are you on this train?”
“I’m going home to find my family, if they are still alive. With the ice almost completely melted, there’s no way to hunt food. And even if there were enough ice, the fish are almost all gone, which means the seals are dying off. Luckily I found a job at a meatpacking plant in Dusseldorf. It’s nice and cold, and pays well enough.”
The Boy felt a kind of guilt like never before. “It’s not my fault you know. I’m just a kid.”
“It’s everyone’s fault.”
They stopped speaking after that, but the Boy hugged the Bear closer.
The Boy must have fallen asleep, because next thing he knew, he was awakened by a sudden flash of light as the closet door opened, followed by a shriek.
“You scared me half to death!” shouted the train conductor. She picked up the ring of keys she must have dropped in her fright. “What are you two doing in here?”
“We were hiding from the Hunter.”
“He’s not going to shoot anyone on this train. And from now on, I’ll have to double lock the utility closets.” She helped the Boy squeeze his legs free and slide to the ground.
“He may not shoot him on the train, but he will as soon as they got off.”
“That’s not our problem, is it? You too, out!” she ordered the Bear.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He looked down dejectedly when he noticed the Hunter smiling next to her.
She grabbed them by the arms, and guided the dejected pair into an open seat in the next car. “Now you two stay out of trouble until we get to Bodø.”
As soon as she left, a dapper old gentleman in tweeds, hat, and tie flourished a deck of cards as he gallantly slid into the seat next to the Boy. “Would anyone care to play a game of whist?”
“No thanks,” the Boy replied sullenly.
“Don’t let yourself be depressed. A true gentleman reacts to defeat in the same way he reacts to victory.”
The Hunter, his smile still glued to his face, said “Yes, let’s play some cards. Before you know it, we’ll be arriving at our destination.”
But before the Gentleman had a chance to deal, the Boy went charging into the aisle. He was more determined than ever to rescue the Bear.
The Boy ran blindly through several cars. He finally skidded to a halt outside a private berth. Inside, he caught sight of the ugliest woman he had ever seen, with straw hair and pruned skin. She sat across from a giant Sea Eagle, his overly large eyes framed by a sepia colored head. The pair of them stared down at a chessboard.
“A witch,” the Boy thought to himself. His first instinct was to hurry past, before the Eagle could lunge through the glass, or the Witch cast a hex on him. But he really wanted to help the Bear, so he stopped, took a deep breath and slid the door open.
“You’ve come to ask my help for something,” the Witch said preemptively, never taking her eyes off the board. “However, the remedy you seek is not supernatural. You require cooperation, not magic.”
“But no one wants to help. Maybe you could convince some people to distract the Hunter.”
“If people are unwilling to help a cute little boy like you, do you think they will listen to an ugly crone like me?”
“Everyone’s scared of you.”
“Exactly. And although fear can be a powerful motivator, it does not usually lead to any kind of sustained action. It results in people running and hiding. But I can offer you one thing.” The old witch plucked a feather from the Sea Eagle’s tail. “You’re going to need this.”
“Thanks,” he replied uncertainly, wondering how a feather could help in the least.
“You better hurry. We are going to reach Bodø soon. I suggest you find someone who knows about building things.”
The Boy raced up the aisle, looking for any adult willing to help. But most refused even to listen to his story.
Finally, he encountered a massive bull seated in the dining car, a great brown beast with patches of dirty white fur. On his head, between two sharp horns, nestled a large pointed hat similar to the one worn by Kaiser Wilhelm II in the Boy’s history textbook. His girth was so great that he flooded out of the booth, blocking the Boy’s way.
The bull was incessantly mumbling to himself in a thick Swiss accent.
“And the king agreed that I was the strongest bull he had ever seen, and I would be the one to drive his chariot in his majesty’s wedding ceremony.”
The Boy, desperate to pass by, interrupted, “With whom are you talking, Sir?”
“Bhrhhrhmph,” the bull snorted, startled. “Don’t go sneaking up on your elders. I am a Baron, don’t you know?”
“I didn’t, Sir.”
With a sudden jostle that would make an earthquake blush, the Baron shifted his weight to make room in the booth. “Sit down, and I’ll tell you about the time I helped Eddy Merckx win a stage of the Tour De France.”
The great beast’s movement left enough room for the Boy to sqeeze past. “I’m sorry, but I’m looking for someone who can build things.”
He next passed a man and woman deeply embroiled in an argument.
“All I’m saying is you could find work that doesn’t destroy the environment,” the man reasoned. He was exceedingly tall, and exceedingly skinny, with a long, dark ponytail hanging down his back. He reminded the Boy of a sharp pencil.
“My entire village depends on fishing,” the woman retorted. She was wizened, with white hair that contrasted starkly with her dark bronze, sandpaper skin. She clutched a basket tightly on her lap. “Should we stop fishing because some deep sea diver likes to look at fish?”
The Boy hurried on, and noticed a scrawny, bespectacled, bearded young man with his nose buried in a thick tome.
“Are you an architect?” he asked.
“Close. I’m an engineer. I’m going to help design oilrigs in the North Sea.”
“I need your help,” he panted. And the Boy quickly explained the Bear’s predicament.
“Look kid, that’s a sad story, but what can I do about it? Have you tried hiding him in the broom closet?” he asked sarcastically.
“We slept there last night, but the Conductor found us.” The Engineer stared dumbly, trying to imagine how a
bear could fit inside a closet.
“You’re the only one who can help.”
“So you want me to sneak an adult polar bear off of a moving train?” He considered for a moment, before adding, “Well, it does pose an engineering challenge.” He started sketching furiously in his notebook.
“So you’ll help?” the Boy asked hopefully.
“Here’s what we need to do,” and the Engineer started giving directions.
The plan sounded crazy to the Boy, but it was the only chance they had. His first task was to recruit the Diver and the Fisher.
“That’s the craziest idea I’ve ever heard,” agreed the Diver.
“Well, if you don’t want to help, I will,” offered the Fisher.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. Besides, the whole plan hinges on me.”
Not waiting to get caught in their argument, the Boy happily left carrying a giant basket full of wet suits. He set them down in front of the Engineer, who kept scribbling away at his notepad.
“Now we just need a way to sew these wetsuits together,” the Engineer said.
But although the Boy asked everyone on the train, even the Hunter, not one person had a needle.
The Engineer took the news badly “Well, then the plan isn’t going to work. You can’t find anything that’s pointy and thin we could use as a substitute?”
“What about this?” The Boy pulled the Sea Eagle feather from his pocket.
“Perfect. Now we need some thread.”
“Will fishing line do?” offered the Fisher, who was now watching them work.
“Of course. I should have thought of that.” The Fisher smiled, lording it over the Diver that she had now donated two items to the cause.
“It’s not going to work anyway,” responded the Diver. “Where will they find the hot air?”
“Don’t worry about that. I know just the thing,” responded the Boy.
Returning to the dining car, the Boy found the Baron had fallen asleep. He gingerly touched, then more forcefully nudged, and then shook the huge bull with all his strength.
It felt like the entire train lurched when the beast suddenly awoke.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but my friend in the other car does not believe you ever knew Eddy Merckx.”
“Bhghghgh! A travesty. Lead on, boy!”
The Engineer whistled in surprise when he saw the Baron. The old bull could provide enough hot air to power 10 balloons—cows were after all one of the leading producers of greenhouse gases.
“Sir, we’ve created a special recording device that will preserve your stories as oral history,” the Engineer explained. “Just speak into this opening here.” He held up the sewn together wetsuits, with the opening at the bottom. The Baron looked quite pleased.
“It’s nearly noon,” chimed in the Diver. “Will everything be ready in time?”
The Engineer pointed to the Diver and the Fisher. “You two stay here to help the Baron. And get that door open. We’ll distract the hunter while the Bear escapes.”
“The door is locked,” complained the Diver.
“Great. We need to find the key too.”
“The Conductor has it,” chimed in the Boy. “But I have an idea of how we can get it.”
“Okay, let’s hurry.”
They met the Bear, the Hunter and the Gentleman headed towards the dining car. “I don’t want our friend to miss his final meal,” smiled the Hunter. The Bear looked miserable.
The Engineer addressed the Hunter, “I work for the national oil company. As you might have heard, we’re having trouble with polar bears wrecking our machinery. If I could talk to you a moment, I might have a job opening for you.”
“How’s the pay?” demanded the hunter.
While the pair turned away to discuss jobs, the Boy motioned to the Bear. “Come with me,” he urged. Turning to the Gentleman, he added, “You too.”
“At your service.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, he explained to the Gentleman they needed him to get the Conductor’s keys.
“I’m always one to help, but I’m not willing to steal.”
“You don’t need to. Just sweet-talk her.”
When they rejoined the others, the scene looked more like a carnival than a train interior. With the help of the Diver and the Fisher, the Baron was telling old war stories into the mouth of a small hot air balloon, which had expanded to fill most of the vestibule.
“Hurry,” urged the Diver. “The balloon is almost too big for the door. I asked him to slow down, but I don’t think he heard me.”
“You want me to fly in this thing?” the Bear asked dubiously.
“It’ll work, don’t worry. Now get in.” The Boy helped shove him into the basket. It strained under his weight, fit to burst, but held together.
Now that he saw the Bear in the basket, the Boy realized there was no extra room for him. He had been planning for them to escape together. He was just about to complain, but then he saw the Hunter enter the door to the next car, with the Engineer trying in vain to deter him.
At the same time, from the car in back of them, the Boy glimpsed the Gentleman and the Conductor. They were pleasantly conversing, and definitely not walking fast enough.
“Hurry, do whatever you can to stop that hunter,” the Boy ordered the Diver. “I’ll go get the key.”
The boy rushed to the Conductor.
“Quick, I need the key,” the Boy demanded.
“I’m sorry, but as I was just saying, it’s for official use only.”
“You don’t understand. The hunter is crazy. He’s going to shoot the Bear right here on the train. We’re trying to help him escape.”
“Oh my,” said the Gentleman. “This sounds quite serious. You should open the door before we have a situation on our hands”
“Hurry,” shouted the Boy. He grabbed the Conductor by the hand, practically dragging her down the aisle.
When she saw the balloon and everyone crammed into the tight quarters of the vestibule, she cried, “Oh my!”
The Boy glanced down the aisle of the next car at an almost comical sight. The Diver was in the process of convincing the Hunter that he could dive from the top of one of the seats into a bucket. The Hunter’s incredulous expression indicated he was highly amused by the proceedings.
But then the Hunter looked up and saw the group of them in the vestibule. A flash of anger shone from his eyes. He started pushing at the Engineer, who did his best not to let him by.
“Quick!” shouted the Fisher. “Open the door.” The Conductor fumbled through her keys, before finally finding the one she needed. She slid it in the lock and clicked. One lock was open. Then she went back to the ring searching for the second key.
“Allow me,” interrupted the Bear, stretching as far as he could from inside the basket. With a flick of his claw, he undid the second lock.
The door slid open. Unfortunately the balloon was now so big it would not easily fit through the door. The Boy, the Fisher, the Baron, and the Conductor all strained themselves trying to force it outside.
With a giant plop, the balloon, the basket and the Bear squeezed through the door. Once outside, the balloon was quickly caught by the wind and soared into the air.
The Boy waved goodbye with a sad smile. As he floated away, the Polar Bear shouted, “Thank you, everyone. I’ll never forget you.”
By the way, the word limit is 3000, and my story is EXACTLY 3000 words. Writing a 100 word story every day has already paid off. So if you think that I need to add anything, please temper your suggestion with what might be cut out.
Sustainability is a hot buzz word on the Internet right now. People are talking about sustainable development, sustainable design, sustainable agriculture, and sustainable living.* We here at The Chaos Factory, never shy of chasing a popular trend, have decided to do some sustainable blogging of our own.
Here is a short story I am about to submit for a 
