William Walden and the Island of Cursed Children

By Benjamin Greennagel

This is an extract from a middle-grade novel, 'William Walden and the Island of Cursed Children.'

It was not unusual to see a woman with snakes for hair preceding over a courtroom—it was her job, after all. Whenever two people had a terrible disagreement, they came to Canary Castle and humbly requested the judge’s guidance. Whatever she said, they had to obey. In order to rule without bias, the judge wore a thick blindfold over her eyes. This also prevented her from turning her colleagues into stone, which was an unfortunate habit of hers.

Before her were two tables. At the first table sat a stiff old man with gleaming white hair combed over his head in such a pristine manner that it looked almost like a helmet. His frown lines were deep, like a sculptor had etched wrinkles into his skin centuries ago. It didn’t matter where he went—he always looked extremely unhappy to be there.

At the second table, there was a beautiful woman with a long, pointed nose and equally long, pointed eyebrows. Even for a spellworker, she was striking, with her swooping velvet cloak draped loosely around a silky lilac gown. Atop her head sat a tiara, secured into an enormous beehive of amber hair, its crystal inlays glowing as though they had been plucked from the night sky itself. She smiled through pursed pink lips, providing the judge with her undivided attention.

“Last night, a quarter to twilight, a child was found on the shores of the Hallowed Forest,” the judge began, baring her razor-sharp teeth. “The dispute is between two individuals, who each believe they should be the child’s guardian. The witness shall rise.”

Millicent the mistwatcher stood from a long bench at the back of the room and made her way forward, picking nervously at the sleeves of her gray coat. She took her seat at the witness stand.

“Explain what you saw,” the judge commanded.

“A child,” answered Millicent.

“We’ve established that already. What else?”

“Right, of course. There was the child, sleeping in a sailboat. And he came with these—a blanket and a letter.” Millicent lifted both items, the blanket folded neatly in her hands with the letter on top.

“Explain the letter.”

Millicent obliged, extracting the note from its envelope. “It’s from his mother. She says he needs to be taken to Fiddlehead Port, where Ms. Goddard can provide him with the care he needs.” At this, she paused, apparently considering her next words carefully.

“What else?”

“Well…” Millicent began, nervously glancing between the two tables. “She also says that Oberon Walden is incapable of caring for the child.”

The old man let out a very loud scoff.

“We’ll see for ourselves,” the judge hissed. “The plaintiff shall rise.”

At the second table, the woman rose to her feet, towering over everyone. Her crystal tiara shone in the torchlight of the courtroom, making her look quite like a lighthouse planted firmly on the shore.

“Diana Goddard,” the judge continued. “You have sixty seconds. Make your case.”

“Your Honor, William Walden has a sleeping curse,” Goddard began. “There’s no other way to spin this tale.”

“Defamation,” the old man seethed. “Lies!”

“Mr. Walden, you will let me finish.” Goddard paused only briefly, her eyes flickering toward the old man, then to the center of the room, where a wooden basinet was suspended in midair, gently swinging William back and forth. His eyes were squeezed shut, his little fingers latched tightly onto his knitted blanket. “It will only get worse until he’s treated. If you allow me to take him to my safehouse, I’ll be able to research magical remedies so that he might have a happy and healthy childhood. Furthermore…” she continued, gesturing toward Millicent. “It is what his mother specifically requested. Ophelia Walden wants William to grow up at Villa Millefoglie and receive the care he so desperately needs.”

“Spouting nonsense,” said Mr. Walden. “That letter is forged!”

“It is not,” Millicent snapped. “It’s been marbelized.”

The judge rapped her gavel several times, the snakes on her head twisting restlessly and flicking their forked tongues. “Order! The letter, please.”

At this, the letter slipped out of Millicent’s grasp and floated upward, landing softly in the hands of the judge. She traced her fingers along the page until they landed on a smooth wax seal near the bottom. Although she couldn’t see it, the wax swirled with scarlet, blue, and gold, twisting across the page like a tropical storm. Ccccccertified, the snakes whispered in unison. It isssss authentic.

“I won’t speculate on whether the entire Walden Family is cursed. Frankly, it’s not my place to say,” Goddard continued gently. “But William is clearly in critical condition—that cannot be denied. You must consider what’s best for the child, and I believe that would mean placing him in the hands of a skilled spellworker and healer.”

At this, Goddard took her seat.

The judge nodded and said, “The defendant shall—“

But Mr. Walden was already standing, scowling at Goddard. “You know nothing about my family,” he spat. “You know nothing about Ophelia, and you certainly don’t know anything about this child. We are not cursed. There is no evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“But sir,” interrupted Millicent, her brow furrowed. “Just look at him. The child has been asleep all day—“

“Silence! The very idea of taking this child away from his family and sending him to live with some deluded spinster is madness!” He thrust his forefinger at Goddard. “What would you do with him? Brainwash him? Teach him he’s weak—that the entire Walden Family is weak? I won’t allow you to sully our reputation. That child belongs to me, and nothing you can say will change that. I’ll put him in a good school and straighten him out. He’ll be perfectly fine.”

The judge slammed her gavel once more. “Your time is up. I’ve made my decision.” Mr. Walden took his seat, and everyone was silent.

“Whether William Walden is cursed or not…” the judge began. “The law states a child should be raised in the home of the closest available family member. Oberon Walden appears to be short-tempered, but I have no reason to believe he is unfit to be William’s guardian. Until he is old enough to speak for himself, the child shall remain in the care of his grandfather.” The judge flicked her hand in the direction of William’s bassinet. At once, he drifted across the courtroom, settling in the arms of Mr. Walden.

“Your Honor…” said Goddard, her voice steady but pleading. “You know this isn’t right.”

“Perhaps. But it’s the way things are.”

The air grew thick with tension. Goddard, stiff and silent, watched as Mr. Walden untucked the child from his bedding and unwound his knitted blanket, discarding it on the floor. “Well, if that’s settled…” he said finally. “We’ll be going.” Mr. Walden pushed through a set of heavy oak doors and stepped outside. Goddard and Millicent retrieved the blanket and letter, then they followed him into a brisk autumn night.

“Sir, I must insist you answer a few questions before you leave,” Goddard called out firmly, catching Mr. Walden as he scuffled across an empty courtyard. They stood in the shadow of Canary Castle, and just past that, a sky full of twinkling stars. Moonlight shone down on them, bathing the soft grass in a cool blue glow. The castle was on the border of the Hallowed Forest, which meant they could hear the faint trill of wood nymphs playing their flutes deep into the night, the gentle rise and fall of melodies sweeping through the woods.

Mr. Walden froze in his tracks. Hearing no argument, Goddard pressed on. “Did you know William would return?”

“No,” said Mr. Walden flatly, his back still turned.

“But… his mother,” Millicent began. “Hasn’t she contacted you?”

“No,” Mr. Walden repeated. “She remains missing.”

“Do you know what she wanted for him?” said Goddard. She gently lifted her hands in defense—as if to soothe the situation—as she continued. “I recall Ophelia had similar issues growing up. Do you plan to seek help?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re referring to. He’ll be fine—he just needs a cup of hot caudle and a firm hand. I understand you think you’re doing a great service, collecting cursed children on your little island. But it’s a service we don’t need.”

Millicent, growing desperate, chased Mr. Walden as he moved to exit the courtyard. “Wait!” she called out. “Then why is the child asleep? Is he under some sort of spell? Where did he come from? At least tell us that—”

Mr. Walden swung around, fury sucking any semblance of humanity from his face. “Wicked folk!” he bellowed. “Devilish creatures—fraternizing with fairies and rabid beasts! I don’t need help from a cult of charlatans. I said leave us alone!”

“Excuse me?” Millicent retorted, her brow pinched with fury. “Diana Goddard is the most talented healer in the world, how dare you—”

Goddard stepped forward and placed a hand on Millicent’s shoulder, silencing her. “Let him go.”

Mr. Walden’s shining scalp disappeared as he followed a trail alongside the castle, and soon the trample of his footsteps receded into silence. Millicent stood dumbfounded, as if she had been paralyzed with shock. “Ms. Goddard… I’m so sorry. I should’ve brought William to you as soon as I’d found him. I had no idea his grandfather would be so… awful.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. If you had brought him to me, I would’ve had to come here and speak to the judge anyway. I’m not in the business of kidnapping children, afterall.”

“But this isn’t right! The boy is obviously cursed—anyone can see that!”

“True. But as the judge said, there’s nothing we can do. Once William is old enough to speak for himself, he can decide what’s best for him. And I believe that day will come soon enough.”

Millicent paused, her eyes drifting down to the folds of her coat. “I’m not sure why I became mistwatcher,” she murmured. “At first, I thought I was protecting my home, but it doesn’t feel that way anymore. This isn’t fair. It’s unjust.”

Goddard nodded thoughtfully. “You have a strong sense of what’s right and wrong. That’s an admirable quality. Would you ever consider pivoting to a different career? I might have a proposition we could discuss over coffee. That is, if you’re free.”

“Coffee? At this hour?”

Goddard extended a bejeweled hand. “It’s quite the proposition.”

An inquisitive smile appeared on Millicent’s face, and she took Goddard’s hand. A sudden gust of wind rippled through the courtyard, enveloping the two women. In a twisting flurry of leaves, they vanished into thin air.

It’s true they could not claim guardianship of William. And now that the boy was with his grandfather, helping him would be nearly impossible.

Nearly.

Night swept tenderly across the castle, and all that was left in the courtyard was the distant sound of wood nymphs playing their flutes and the soft stirring of leaves.