Once upon a time, there was a small village nestled in the hills. "Hey, I'm telling the story here! Look at all the villagers—hardworking, happy, and—hold on, I said—look at the view! The hills, the meadows—this is my story! Spotlights on me, alright?"
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In this village lived Megan, a teen with mega problems—they were called dreams. You see, Megan and her mother, Clara, lived a humble life, but Megan hated it. ""Oh, to be rich, wear stunning gowns, dance at grand parties, and savor Turkish delight every single day!"
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"I made you breakfast," Clara said.
"Mom, I want something exquisite! Why didn’t you get me anything from the market?" Megan retorted.
"I was out in the fields, and by the time I reached the market, the produce from the town's stall was over," Clara explained.
The town, which was a little way away, sold exotic fruits, sweets, and clothes twice a week. They’d come down to the village and sell their produce.
"Well, why didn’t you go sooner, Megan?"
"Fieldwork is hard. Maybe if you helped me in the field or went to the market yourself..."
"Me? In the fields and market?"
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Megan refused to work or help her mom. She would simply sit and grumble about her life.
"You know, one day you’ll see that a humble life is quite nice," Clara said.
Megan’s mother had a friend who stayed in the town. She was a rich lady who often asked Clara to visit her. So one day, unable to bear Megan's incessant grumbling, she decided to send her to her friend's place.
"I’m so excited!"
"Don’t get too caught up in the city’s richness, okay?"
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Megan traveled to the town and soon arrived at the lady's home.
"Oh my goodness!" The lady of the mansion greeted Megan with a warm welcome. Her name was Darla.
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Megan thoroughly enjoyed the rich lifestyle. She'd wake up to scrumptious breakfasts, sometimes in bed. She’d go for carriage rides out in the meadows and have picnics near the streams with Darla. In the evenings, she danced under the stars that mirrored the jewels on her dress.
"Having fun, Megan?"
"So much! Compared to this, my life is so boring. Mom should stay here too."
"Well, your mother prefers the humble life. I admire her for that."
"Admire her for working in the field? Megan, there's dignity in every kind of work as long as it's honest and filled with love."
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A week went by, and Megan had to return home. She was annoyed at saying goodbye. When she returned, she saw the villagers in their plain clothes and humble homes, among which was her mother.
"I can’t do this. I need to go back."
In disgust, she returned to the town.
"Megan, did something happen?"
"No, no, nothing's wrong. Well, Mom’s supposed to go out for some work for a few days, and I... I mean, she was hoping you'd let me stay a little longer."
"Oh, of course, Megan."
Megan had lied to Darla and wrote her mother a letter stating that Darla insisted she stay longer.
"Oh dear, well, I suppose a few more days are alright."
And so, guarded by her lies, Megan stayed in Darla’s home. But the days went by, and Darla received a letter from Clara asking about her daughter.
"Megan, it appears your mother has returned from her work. She’s asking about you."
To Megan’s annoyance, she had to return. Darla had given her something tasty to share with Clara.
"Hm, bread."
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However, the carriage had to stop halfway due to a mucky path.
"What a terrible day! I don’t want to ruin my new shoes. Oh, the bread."
Megan decided to cover her shoes with the bread.
"It’s just bread."
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No sooner had she taken two steps than she slipped right through the mucky ground.
"What? Where am I? Ew!"
She had fallen deep underground into the Marsh Queen’s territory.
"Who is this?" Megan gazed up in shock at the towering goblin looming over her. It was the Marsh Queen, Slappa.
"I... I... um, Megan."
"That’s a unique name for a muck goblin."
"I’m a human."
Just then, another goblin came scurrying to Slappa, carrying Megan’s basket.
"Ooh, the special roseberry crumble bread with the rose petals too! But I still smell more."
"That’s because they’re on my feet."
"Why are they on your feet?"
"I needed to protect my pretty shoes from the mucky path."
Slappa was shocked. She loved that particular bread and asked her goblins to buy it for her every day.
"You call yourself human, but you are an evil creature. Just for stepping on bread, you are stepping on a million people's hard work—farmers, bakers, shopkeepers."
"That’s got nothing to do with me."
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To Megan’s horror, Slappa kept her as a baker. But the problem was Megan couldn’t bake.
"Nope."
Megan tried again.
"Ew."
And again.
"Wow."
But she couldn’t get it right.
"This is pointless. My hands are calloused, my clothes are mucky, and my hair has mice in it. It’s a wonder how just bread is so difficult to make."
Slappa decided that Megan needed to understand the entire process of making bread, and that began in the field.
"Don’t you know how to sow?"
"I’ve never worked in a field before."
"You don’t need to work in a field to know how to plant a tiny seed."
"She’s harsh to everyone. Let me help you."
"Oh, uh, thank you."
Despite the mistakes and scolding, she worked hard. Soon, the grain was up and ready for harvesting.
"Wow, feels good to be rewarded for your hard work, huh?"
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Megan had never felt so elated before. She’d spent weeks working in the hot sun and had even made a few kind friends. She was then placed in the mill. There too, she got into trouble. The mill owner, however, was a kind person.
"Good job, everyone. I brought you all soup."
"The last owner would make us work till midnight."
"That’s because he never respected us for our work. Some rich people are crude and arrogant."
"But isn’t she rich too?"
"Exactly why I said 'some.' There are those who respect and care for others. Our lives aren’t something to be ashamed of. There’s dignity in honest work."
"I used to look down on everyone too."
After that, she worked in a bakery. Here she observed the bakers carefully.
"I don’t get it. Why won’t my bread taste the same?"
"Do you like baking?"
"What? No."
"Then it’ll never taste good. You see, there’s a secret ingredient. Baking needs love."
"Love?"
"Some people like sweet bread, some like hard-crusted bread, while others like it fluffy. Depending on that, I choose my ingredients carefully. And then I knead the dough and sprinkle some love into it. I thank all of the people who’ve worked hard for this bread and those who will eat it."
She worked a few more days in the bakery until Slappa brought her back to the land of muck. Megan went into the kitchen and looked at the ingredients in front of her.
"I’ll use this."
Her mind drifted to the kind field hands, the generous mill owner and workers too, and the patient baker. As she kneaded, she thought about Darla, who had welcomed her into her home, and then her own mother—selfless and kind.
"Oh my goodness!"
"My queen, I’ve baked the bread."
"Really? Is this going to break my teeth?"
Slappa examined the bread. It smelled glorious and looked quite edible. She took a chunk and ate it.
"Ooh, it’s delicious! But it’s the roseberry crumble bread. How did you bake this?"
"I realized when I used to bake earlier, I did it with anger and hatred. And this time... this time I baked it with love."
"You put in so much effort just for this bread?"
"It’s not just bread. It’s a bundle of love and effort from people that I’ve learned must be respected."
"Good girl. Well, since you’ve learned to be good and respectful, I shall reward you."
She walked back home, attracting stares at her mucky dress, but Megan didn’t care.
"Mother, Mother!"
"Megan?"
"Megan!" Clara hugged her daughter tight. Darla was there too.
"Oh, my sweet daughter! Where were you? We’ve been so worried."
Megan told them the whole tale of how Slappa had taken her in because she stepped on the bread.
"Darla, I’m so sorry for treating the bread that way. And Mom, I’m sorry for everything. I promise from now on I’ll change for the better."
Megan helped her mother in the fields and everywhere else. She was kind and compassionate to everyone, filling her mother’s heart with pride.
"Never in my life have I known a nicer person. I have the Muck Queen to thank for that."
Megan had understood that a humble life wasn’t something to snub. It was filled with something golden that shimmer couldn’t buy. She was no longer discontent but felt happy and satisfied because she’d found the secret ingredient to a happy life—love.