My Name is Rapunzel(22)

The tractor cart was filled with the fruits and vegetables from our garden. I knew because I’d filled it myself the day before. Since it was otherwise in use and we didn’t have a car, she would have to call a cab.

How she managed to leave the grounds didn’t matter to me. I could spend the day free of her watchful eye.

For the most part, Gretta kept to herself and didn't bother me much. She enjoyed cooking, sewing during the cold months, and selling our fruits and vegetables in the summer at the local farmer's market in the surrounding towns. At least she could stay out after nightfall without the dragon growing angry. I’d always been envious of how she could blend in with a crowd of people and easily be forgotten. While I, on the other hand, couldn’t risk going to town as often as she did because I had an unforgettable face. Gretta said both women and men would always remember a beautiful face. The women were envious, and the men desired me, but an old woman would go unnoticed.

“I'll be fine. I have plenty of things to do today, anyway.” Maybe I would bake. I knew how to cook, but Gretta kept charge of the kitchen. Usually brewing something long before the sun peeked over the horizon. She was a great cook. Not that I'd ever tell her that, but I'm sure she already knew. Gretta knew a lot of things. I was almost positive that came with being a witch.

It had been nearly fifty years since I’d last visited the shops in Paradise Valley. Enough time for a generation to pass. I planned to visit the bookstore over the coming winter when I could wear my cloak to hide my hair.

Or I could spend some time chatting with some online friends. Technology was wonderful! The Internet had given me a semi-social life to help modernize me with the times. I could chat with tons of different people in forums, or leave comments and get replies through email, while staying invisible the entire time. There was no fear of anyone finding out about my curse and my location. I could be whoever I wanted to be.

“I'll be on my way then,” Gretta said as she set her coffee cup in the sink. “I should be back sometime before nightfall. Try to be inside the castle before I return. We wouldn't want that awful dragon burning up the place again, now would we?” Her upper lip curled with distaste. She left without saying another word.

Gretta despised the dragon, but it seemed the feelings were mutual. Each time it saw her outside it let out a low, bellowing growl that sent her running for the castle doors in a panic. She was afraid of the dragon, though she refused to admit it. Who wouldn't be? He clearly wasn’t the pet I’d once thought he was.

I wasn't shown the same disdain when I was out at night. Instead, the docile beast hovered over me—blended well into the moonlight trees, and was practically invisible, be it not for the deep huffs and flapping of his large leathery wings. He always watched until I ascended to my room to light the candle.

My heart ached for the dragon on occasion. Had he left any family behind when he followed us to Paradise Valley? Still, I wondered why he followed us to begin with.

Sometimes I wanted to give the dragon the same courtesy of a watchful eye as I studied him from my tower. He glided through the air as gracefully as a bag caught in wind. Nowhere near as destructive and massive as those in the books I'd read, he still towered at about fifteen feet in height and a good thirty feet in length. Emerald scales covered the beautiful creature with the iridescent gleam of orange and blue when seen up close. All in all, he was a wonderful sight that I had the luxury of seeing. He was the one thing I had left. I found it even more comforting knowing that this was something Gretta could never take from me.

Years ago, when Paradise Valley feared an early frost that posed a threat to the budding crops in town, the dragon worked endlessly and tirelessly throughout the entire night breathing his scorching breath to combat the frigid air. In the end, heat emerged victorious and the townsfolk couldn't believe the crops had not withered away.

Not a single soul ever saw the dragon or the good deed he had done—no one except for me, of course. I'm sure Gretta wanted the dragon to be discovered so they would hunt the poor beast down. She even went as far as going to town early the next morning to spread rumors of a fierce dragon that kept the air warm by breathing fire to save the crops so he could eat them.

Most of the people in town laughed or ignored her amusing story, thinking she was just a crazy old woman. In the end, her tale backfired. The townsfolk decided to celebrate their crops being saved by some mystical dragon on the eve of the first frost each year. A good old-fashioned town gathering that they dubbed Dragon Day was celebrated before winter came, flooding the town with visitors.

Gretta had made a mistake mentioning the dragon and she knew it. Ski resorts now had Speedy Dragon Slopes, rides guaranteed to take a person's breath away. Restaurants served Dragon Chili that was said to “have you breathing fire” as you ate it. Flags with different shapes and colors of dragons waved in the chilly winds outside the main street shops, welcoming the newcomers to town.