|Happily Never After: Rapunzel
Author: Elisha Godspell PM
Surely living alone in a tower with only a witch, animals and your hair as company for years had its repercussions.Rated: Fiction T - English - Parody/Horror - Words: 1,243 - Published: 01-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2990730
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Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a tower alone. Every day, a witch climbed up the tower and brought her food and drink.
Now, this girl had very beautiful auburn-brown hair that was so long it spanned three-fourths the entire length of the tower. It was littered with miniature plaits tied with bits of ribbon.
The witch called her Çaetlá.
Çaetlá sat by her window everyday and wathed over the forest. She sang madrigals and verses with the birds and shared food with the raccoons and squirrels.
One day, the witch called out from the foot of the tower.
‚O Çaetlá, lend me a piece of rope
So I may bring up your rapunzel
And you may cook good food.
I see that you have a squirrel
So I have brought a knife.
We shall have a feast
With this little rodent's life.'
Çaetlá, ever so sympathetic with her animal friends, was horrified with the witch's words. She imediately scooped up her pet and put him under the bed. With nimble fingers, she took a length of rope, spanning one and one-fourth the length of the tower, and attached one end of the rope to a tree's branch reaching in from the opposite window. She cautiously let down the rope.
The witch climbed up the tower with the rope. However, the tree branch could not support her weight, so it broke and sent her plummeting to the ground.
Çaetlá peeked out her window, to see the witch's demise. She lay at the foot of the tower, a bloody heap of rapunzel, bread, and broken bones.
Çaetlá was very satisfied with her work. She hurriedly released her pet, who squealed and scampered off.
That night, Çaetlá watched the wolves devour the witch's corpse while eating an apple brought by a squirrel.
Some weeks passed by and the traces of the witch's death had worn off. Even still, Çaetlá was as healthy and happy as ever with her animal companions.
The next day a company of hnters entered the forest. Among them was the prince. He had wandered off and stumbled into the clearing of Çaetlá's tower, where she was singing a cheerful song with the magpies and redbirds and sparrows.
The prince, a lover of cheer and ebullience, was easily captivated by her song. He sang along jovially.
‚And now the witch's feast has come to an
Therefore, worry no more, my friend
I'll keep you safe with my care
So that anyone who'll dare
Will face a nightmare'
Çaetlá stopped her singing when she heard the prince. She peeked out of her window, a redbird cautiously perched on her left palm. He waved good-naturedly, and Çaetlá, a bit taken aback, shyly returned the gesture. The prince called out:
‚Pretty lass, may I ask your name?
Or have you not heard of my fame?
Then let us play a little guessing game.'
Çaetlá, fascinated, replied:
Have you not heard of this miser?
No person queerer,
Has made me curioser.
All the more this place is dearer
I will tell you my name
If you win my game.'
The prince laughed brightly at her reply.
‚Very well, young lady
Let me rid you of your misery.'
Çaetlá sat down on the windowsill, her hair trailing down on the stone floor.
‚Firstly dear stranger
Has anything made you curioser?
I will give you a riddle
Pleasanter than a fiddle.
Once their was a witch
Who called me Çaetlá.
Her hair was soft and dark,
And framed her eyes, like a skylark.
Once, she called me Camellia.
A rose brought by a squirrel
And she brought me rapunzel.
She brought a knife
To take my friend's life.
In the midle of this strife
O good tree snapped
And so with a clap
She met her demise.
Are you not surprised?
But that is no more a question
Than a suggestion.
Tell me, dear stranger—
Why did the witch's feast
End not sadder?'
The prince stood in thought, thinking of the strange girl's riddle. He shrugged nonchalantly.
‚Pray tell, dear maiden
May I come back tomorrow?
To not answer to wit's end
Shan't be my sorrow.
My thoughts must not muddle
For me to answer your riddle.'
Çaetlá sang back.
‚Then by all means, come back
To my rundown shack.
Is no more cover
For a prison.
But you will not be
Charged with treason,
For the warden
Is nowhere near.
So come back, dear mister
For I am always here.'
So the prince rode off on his horse. Everyday he came back, trying to answer Çaetlá's riddle. Meanwhile, news reached her that there were foreign men who were shooting down deer and sparrows and hares.
That afternoon, when the prince arrived, she started weeping.
‚O dear maiden,
Why do you mourn?
Have I become
An object of your scorn?
Say no more, dear maiden
Even though there is no warden
I shall bid farewell
For I only wish your heart well.'
Çaetlá gently wiped a tear off her cheek.
‚You have been faithful, dear stranger
To always visit this miser.
But worry not
Object of my scorn you are but.
Such as the object of my anger
Are someone stranger
Making fauna curioser
Bringing their end nearer.'
The prince looked troubled and shook his head.
‚Alas, fair maiden,
My fear has come.
Pardon us, for the damage done.
For it is my company and I
Who destroy pleasantries of your eye.'
Çaetlá gently peered down onto the prince.
‚Is that so, dear mister?
Very well, this miser
Has truly never
Even though you have
Not won my game,
I shall tell you my name.
I am Çaetlá.
You have amused me to no end—
Why, you might as well be my friend!
So won't you accept my invitation?
There shall be no other instruction;
Come up this tower
And amuse this prisoner.'
The prince, overjoyed, graciously accepted.
‚Thank thee, dear maiden
You have no warden.
Çaetlá, heart golden,
I am most thankful,
How may I be useful?'
So Çaetlá fetched a length of rope, one and one-fourth's the length of the whole tower, and attached it to a hook, letting it down for the prince. She then fetched a pair of scissors and held them.
The prince, a fit oyung man, quickly climbed up without difficulty. Once on top, he set light feet on the floor, and was stabbed by a tearful Çaetlá.
‚My heart is not golden!' she wailed.
‚I have killed my warden—
Have made me curioser.
But nothing will ever be queerer
Than an empty tower.
So pardon me, young mister—
You meet your end, my friend,
In the hands of a prisoner.
You have gained my trust
Though rightly just
You have been faithful,
But you have made
My company fearful.
An dvowed i have
To never forgive
Those whom I grieve.'
So Çaetlá, gently cradled the prince in her arms and sang him a song of death, accompanied by the bluebirds and ravens.
Even now, her song still echoes in the forest.
There you go. So don't ever try to live in a tower and grow your hair to three-fourths the length of it.