My Name is Rapunzel(33)

As the fluttering wings of birds and small animals cleared, I finally found the source of the laugh I wished had belonged to another. Gretta… She stood at the other end of the clearing. Her wicked glare revealed an unknown tragedy was about to unfold.

“How could you dare try to leave me? I thought we had an understanding, Rapunzel? I think it's time our agreement was satisfied,” she said. With another eerie cackle, she raised her outstretched hands above her shoulders, pointed them toward the sky, and started chanting strange words. The slow rhythm of her words increased after each pause.

“Run!” Henry screamed, his eyes widened, “Run!” When I didn't move, confusion washed over his face. He couldn't hide his emotions. The moon made sure of it.

The witch's chanting had grown louder and louder. An unexpected storm began to brew and whistling winds howled through the trees. Dark and haunting thunder roared in the distance, growing closer by the second. Broken branches, twigs, and leaves began swirling through the air. This wasn't a typical storm. It was a witch's brew.

I couldn't move.

My mouth opened slightly. I tried to speak, but the words remained trapped in my throat, unable to spill from a mouth that could find no voice.

I wanted nothing more than to run. I truly did. It wasn't because I didn't want to leave, because I did. I wanted to do exactly what Henry told me to do. Run! We needed to leave this place fast. Go somewhere—anywhere, but here. But still…I couldn't move.

Henry grasped my shoulders then yelled again, “Run!” His words cracked with urgency, “Run!” He tried to shake me out of my stupor, but it was to no avail. I couldn't move and I didn't know what was wrong.

I heard him, but I didn't respond. I didn't move. I didn't run. I was frozen like a lifeless statue in a cold museum. With only the movement of my eyes, I pleaded with him to help me. A tear escaped one of my eyes then rolled down my cheek. That single tear managed to do what my heart could not. Escape. Henry didn't understand my tearful plea, and statues can’t speak.

“Run!” he yelled again, “I said, run!” His nostrils flared and a bead of sweat slid down his temple. Henry shook me again. This time fiercely, determined to get me to follow. I had never heard him bark orders at anyone, let alone me. I had only known him to be kind and gentle to everyone.

I knew he would have made a great King. I used to think our love was written in the stars, one for the books and one that we could tell our children one day.

But fate had other plans.

I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a tightening in my already clenched jaw. Another mass of birds fluttered away, squawking loudly as they escaped the trees. They knew death was near and they felt it. I wanted to escape. I wanted to fly away just like they did. Yet…I remained still. I was frozen.

I didn't move. I didn't run.

I'd been a naïve nine-year-old girl who made a covenant with a witch. I thought she was my friend. As I’d grown older, I never thought much about that silly agreement, or her for that matter, but apparently Gretta had never forgotten and fully expected me to satisfy our arrangement.

The world around me started to spin. My body weakened with each breath I took. Something was wrong with my eyes, because everything looked blurry and I could only hear the sound of Henry's voice and the witch's chanting bellowing through the winds.

“Die!” the witch yelled, without remorse. “Die!”

A flash of bright light blinded me and Henry's hands lost their grip on my shoulders. But nothing could prepare me for the word I heard next.

“Dragon!” the witch screamed. I heard the fear in her wicked voice and her feet scampering across the stream. She was running away. She was afraid. Like me.

The winds immediately died down and I could no longer hear Henry's voice. I was alone. Darkness surrounded me as I tumbled to the ground.

The last memory of that horrible night was a horrendous blend of the witch's screams and the roar of a dragon. Henry was gone.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN




2013

Dear Miss “Rapunzel,”

Why did Mr. Jenkins insist on putting my name in quotes? It seemed downright rude. Rapunzel. My name. Not possibly my name or if that's my name… It was my name. I’d have to teach him a lesson in being polite.

Thank you for sending me your story. It's certainly good enough to be published. Sadly, I'm not a publisher, but I do have a good friend to whom I could send your manuscript for possible consideration.

You nearly had me going—that is, until you mentioned the dreadful, fire breathing, dragon. Of course, the obvious fact that you'd have to be well over 250 years old for your story to have any merit did not escape my attention. If you're telling the truth, you couldn't possibly be alive. Are you writing to me from the grave? Furthermore, I'd dread the thought of how you must look at such a feeble age. How I love a good laugh.