Pico spread his arms wide, gesturing to the scene before them. “Welcome to –”
“Greenock Swamp,” Lauryn interrupted. She didn’t need him to tell her. She knew exactly where they were.
However, it wasn’t the ferns or mossy logs that jogged her memory, familiar though they were. It was the smell. The smell of peat, of bog, of damp dirt and rot. And it was those smells that twisted her stomach into knots.
Part of her knew she should be excited, not scared. After all, her home — and her family — was located on the far side of the enormous swamp. Which meant they were tantalizingly close to completing their journey.
But on the other hand, no place in the whole wide world terrified her more than Greenock Swamp. That’s because one of her earliest memories could be traced back to this place. No more than three or four years old, Lauryn had wandered away from the house one morning, following the family’s dog, Gruffus.
Through the grumpleberry fields and past the wild walnut groves she ran, going further from her home than she had ever been. Yet Gruffus kept going, and even-Littler Lauryn Lollipop kept following after him.
And before long, she noticed her rubber boots squelching in mud and the air growing thick with fog.
Still, she pressed forward, barely hearing the sound of her dog’s jangly collar over the croaking toads and creaking crickets. The fog grew thicker, and Lauryn soon lost her bearings. Even her muddy footsteps behind her had disappeared, swallowed back up by the sucking bog.
She doesn’t remember how long she was lost. Or how Mama Lollipop managed to eventually find her. But she definitely remembered how scared she felt. And from that day on, Lauryn had refused to go anywhere near the swamp.
“You can’t do this,” she heard someone whisper, snapping her back to the present moment.
“What was that?” she asked Pico.
Her companion gave Lauryn a confused look. “I didn’t say anything.”
Strange, she thought. “Just a little further now,” said Pico. “Ready to go?”
Lauryn took a deep breath and started to make her way into the misty marsh. They didn’t get far before she heard another whisper. “You’ll never make it.”
Lauryn stopped in her tracks, spinning around to scan the moss-mottled trees around them. “Did you hear that?”
Pico frowned back at her, looking worried. “Hear what?” he asked.
“Never mind,” Lauryn replied. “… just the wind, I guess.”
They carried on, but a few minutes later, the voice returned, louder than before. “You’re too little!” it growled.
Lauryn froze once again, her heart pounding in her chest. Fingers of fog crept between the trees and a damp chill settled upon them. Wide-eyed, Lauryn turned to Pico. “I can’t do this,” she said with a trembling voice. “I’m too little!”
“Too little!” the mysterious voice hissed in agreement. “Who do you think you are? You’re just Little … Lauryn … Lollipop!”
Pico’s ears perked up, finally hearing it as well. “Lauryn, listen to me!” he cried out as the voice grew louder and more persistent. “I think you’ve picked up a marsh-wallow!”
“Too small! You’ll never make it! You’re just Little Lauryn! Little Lauryn!”
“A what??!!” she shouted.
“A marsh-wallow,” Pico repeated. “A leech that feeds on fear. And the more afraid it makes you, the bigger it grows.”
A fresh wave of terror washed over Lauryn, and she suddenly started to sink. Pico yelped as Lauryn’s boots disappeared into a boggy pit of muck. “You can’t let it get to you!”
But Lauryn could barely hear him over all the racket the marsh-wallow was making. “Too weak! Remember what happened last time? You’re just too little!”
Lauryn sunk deeper into the bog, the muck now up to her knees. “I’m too little,” she muttered. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can! Keep fighting, Lauryn!” yelled Pico over the noise. Laying his suitcase on the ground, he unsnapped the latches and flung open the lid. “Just hang on! I’ve got a marsh-wallow popper in here somewhere.”
Lauryn’s friend disappeared inside the case, leaving her alone with the marsh-wallow and its endless chants.
“Who do you think you are?” it taunted. You’re just Little Lauryn Lollipop!” Lauryn was now waist-deep in the muck, and the fog around her had grown so thick she could barely make out Pico’s suitcase a few steps away.
“Too little, too little, too little,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I’m just Little Lauryn Lollipop.”
The marsh-wallow leech continued its jeers as the muck reached Lauryn’s armpits. “Don’t listen to it!” she heard Pico’s voice cry out, as though from a great distance.
Lauryn closed her eyes and tried to breathe a bit slower. “No,” she whispered. “I CAN do this.”
To Lauryn’s surprise, the marsh-wallow fell silent. But only for a moment.
“YOU’RE NOBODY! YOU’RE JUST LITTLE LAURYN LOLLIPOP!”
“NO!” Lauryn said, a little bit louder this time, silencing the marsh-wallow for a little bit longer. “I made it through the Desert of Mournful Meows!”
“YOU’LL NEVER MAKE IT!”
“I sailed across Lake Tumbles!”
“TOO SMALL!”
“I got to the other side of Festerfall Forest!”
“YOU’RE NOT BIG ENOUGH!”
“I found the cog in Junkyard Hollow!”
“IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!”
“I yodelled with the yetis on Mount Craggleheart!”
“GIVE UP!”
“I survived the Murkymuck Caverns!”
“YOU’RE TOO WEAK!”
“I can do … ANYTHING!” Lauryn opened her eyes and wrenched her left arm free from the muck. Stretching as far as she could, she grabbed hold of a tuft of grass and began pulling with all her might.
The marsh-wallow howled in anger as Lauryn slowly clawed her way out of the bog, freeing her right arm next, then her torso.
“NO!” it roared. Out of the corner of her eye, Lauryn saw Pico poke his head out of the suitcase, holding what looked like a long needle.
“YOU’RE NOBODY!” bellowed the marsh-wallow. With both legs now free of the bog, Lauryn scrambled to her feet, just as Pico hurled the needle toward her.
“YOU’RE JUST LITTLE … LAURYN … LOLLI–”
Lauryn pierced the marsh-wallow with the needle like a balloon, sending the rapidly deflating creature careening around the swamp before it disappeared with a *bloop* into a scum-coated pond nearby and slithered away.
Lauryn and Pico flopped to the ground and watched as the fog retreated deeper into the woods and a few rays of sunlight shone through the canopy overhead.
“Sorry I took so long,” said Pico, trying to catch his breath. “I couldn’t remember where I put my popper.”
Lauryn just smiled, covered from head to toe in mud. That’s when she heard a familiar jangle up ahead, followed by excited barks. “Gruffus!” she called out as the dog sprinted toward them, greeting them both with slobbery kisses.
With Gruffus guiding the way, they continued their journey to the other side of Greenock Swamp. They reached the wild walnut groves as the setting sun started painting the sky with splashes of purples and pinks. And just before the sun dipped below the horizon entirely, they arrived at the doorstep of Lauryn’s much-missed home.
“Welcome home, Little Lauryn Lollipop” said Pico with a smile.
Lauryn smiled back, her cheeks still caked with mud. “Good to be home,” she said. “Care to come in for some crinkle-leaf tea?”
“That would be lovely,” said the lompa-kazoo.
.
Ideas for your own journey!
Obstacles take many forms. Many of them are external, like the cactus maze in the Desert of Mournful Meows, a broken-down robot in Junkyard Hollow or a blustery blizzard atop Mount Craggleheart.
But a lot of times, the barriers we face come from the inside, and we can be our own worst enemy. Our own personal marsh-wallows latch onto us and can fester if we let them.
Self-doubt and negative thinking are common types of marsh-wallows. It’s normal to feel doubt and uncertainty now and then. But sometimes those feelings can really take hold, preventing us from making progress.
Like Lauryn in the swamp, we start to believe the voices in our heads — the ones that criticize, judge and question our self-worth. They tell us that we don’t have what it takes. That we’re not good enough and don’t have the skills or talents to succeed. Fear is a familiar marsh-wallow as well — whether it’s fear of failure, fear of not being good enough or fear of the unknown.
And it doesn’t matter that those negative thoughts are often extremely far from the truth. Or that those fears are unwarranted. Once those marsh-wallows sink their teeth in, our brains can be very effective at helping them grow.
That’s not to say we should ignore our inner voices. They can be super helpful, protecting us from bad or dangerous situations. But it’s important to find that tricky balance between listening to your inner critic and not putting too much stock in it.
In other words, it’s not about eliminating self-doubt or fear from our lives. Or pretending it’s not there. It’s about learning to recognize it, identifying where it comes from and finding healthy ways to manage it. It’s about pulling out your wallow-popper and showing those marsh-wallows who’s boss.
REPLACE
Is your marsh-wallow getting chatty? To turn down the volume, practise challenging and replacing negative self-talk with positive alternatives. Here are a few examples:
| Instead of this … | Try this … |
| “I’ve failed” | “That didn’t go the way I wanted it to, but I learned a lot along the way” |
| “I don’t know how to do this” | “This is an opportunity for me to learn something new” |
| “I’m stuck” | “I need to approach this from a different angle” |
| “I can’t believe I made that mistake” | “Now that I know that approach doesn’t work, I can try something else” |
| “I don’t deserve this compliment” | “Wow, what a nice thing to hear” |
| “This will never get done” | “What do I need to do to get this done?” |
| “This is a disaster” | “This is frustrating but not the end of the world” |
| “I’m not good enough” | “I’m a work in progress and getting better every day” |
| “What an awful day” | “I’m going to try to make tomorrow better” |
| “This is too hard” | “I’ve been through tough times before, and I’ll get through this challenge as well, one step at a time” |
REFRAME
Believing in yourself is a wonderful thing. Like Lauryn in the swamp, it can help us tackle challenges with courage and gusto. But can you have too much self-confidence? Maybe — if it leads to an overly inflated sense of your abilities or a belief that you’re better than others.
Let’s say you’re constantly being told you can do anything. On one level, that sounds awesome, right? Motivating. Supportive. Empowering.
But what happens when you don’t succeed at a task? Or plans don’t go the way you expected? If you’re someone who believes they can’t miss, life’s inevitable setbacks and failures can leave you feeling incredibly frustrated and disappointed. It can also make you reluctant to try again — or try new things — for fear of not living up to unrealistic expectations about yourself.
Because the reality is, sometimes you’ll do very well at things, and sometimes you won’t. You’ll have natural talents in certain areas and challenges in others. That’s just part of being human.
Meanwhile, maybe people are always telling you that you’re perfect, just the way you are. Once again, that seems great at face value. But nobody is perfect. And believing you are can reduce your willingness to learn new things and grow as a person. It can make you dismissive of opinions and ideas that don’t match your own — and less likely to challenge your own thoughts and behaviours.
Bottom line? Self-confidence is super important! But always be sure to balance that with a healthy dose of humility, recognizing that you don’t have all the answers. That it’s OK to stumble and fall and ask for help. And that life is a never-ending journey of learning and growing.
NEXT: CHAPTER 9 – A FINAL WISH FOR YOUR JOURNEY
PREVIOUS: CHAPTER 7 – MURKYMUCK CAVERNS
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Little Lauryn Lollipop & The Long Road Home | © Josh Martin 2026