New Tales From Old Yarn

by Barbara Becc

  She returned the next day, waiting for the witch (and, no she wasn’t labeling her; she was wearing one of those pointy hats magic-enhanced people fancied) to leave before she made her move. Her heart throbbed with emotion as the beautiful voice returned to grace the secret meadow. Clearing her throat, and adjusting her many scarves, Princess Avery prepared to find a way to meet the owner of the angelic voice.

  “Hello there,” she called up, and the song stopped. “Verily, I have heard your song and, if you should choose, I should like to meet you. Do come down from there!”

  “Excuse me?” the singer asked. “Who are you to demand me to come out of the comforts of my home? And how did you find this place? ‘Tis secret!”

  “’Tis my parents’ kingdom, and I go wherever I please!” she retorted.

  “You are a royal?!” the crystalline voice exclaimed. “My mother has told me that royals and nobles are nothing more than pompous fools who know not of real struggle. What do you want?”

  “I have already told you, therefore I shan’t repeat myself!”

  “Fine. Then don’t.” She heard an irritated sigh followed by the sound of a lute being softly strummed.

  The princess pouted for a moment, arms crossed over her bodiced chest.

  “Fine! I’m leaving!” she shouted.

  “Goodbye.”

  She marched over to A Different Color, grabbed the saddle’s pommel, and was prepared to mount her ride when her pride began to make way for her curiosity once more. Rushing back over to the tower, she slapped her hands against the stone bricks and decided that, since no one else was there to see her grovel which meant no repercussions for her uncharacteristic actions, it wasn’t out of the question to at least beg for a teeny glimpse of the stranger.

  “Please, mysterious musician! Wilt thou leave me unsatisfied?!”

  A snarky snark rushed down to her and the music stopped again. “I’ve read that book. Highly overrated. Too many people die in the name of young lust.”

  “What?”

  “That ghastly book where two teenagers from feuding families fall in love. Everyone dies. Reported to be very existential and romantic. I don’t agree.”

  “This is absurd! I’m speaking to a wall! I do not speak to walls; I am a princess!”

  “Well, you could just ask to come up.”

  “What?”

  “Ugh!” the golden voice sighed. “Look, I can’t come down because I have no way of getting down. However, if you want to meet me all you have to do is ask. I can pull you up by my hair.”

  “Your hair?!”

  “I have already told you; I shan’t repeat myself,” he mocked.

  Avery pushed herself back and stared up at the only window in the tower and asked for permission to come up inside. A long, thick braid of the most beautiful golden hair she had ever seen fell down. The thick tasseled end, held together by a brilliant blue silk bow, brushed against the grass. She pulled up her sleeves, hiked up her many skirts, and grabbed hold of the rope of hair. When she signaled that she was on and holding tight, she found herself being pulled upward.

  She rolled into the window, gathered her pride and her scarves, and turned to meet the tower’s occupant. A sharp gasp exited her mouth and her eyes grew wide with wonder. Why, it was a young man! The most beautiful man she had ever seen! He wore the most posh clothes, which were actually vintage breeches and twine suspenders over a loose linen shirt made popular by Buggy McGeesburg two full decades ago (so stylish!). His mustache was so perfectly waxed that not a bristle was out of place. And the beard! Oh, the glorious beard that grew from his youthful jaw, woven into this magnificent rope, had been laid in a neat, thick coil at his booted feet.

  Princess Avery turned away, for dramatic flair, and placed her dainty hand over her heart. She looked at him over her shoulder, batting her lashes.

  “Forgive me of my sudden shock, but who are you, fair gent?”

  “Rapunzel,” he replied.

  A confused expression crossed her features. “Rapunzel?! As in rapunzel kale?”

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  Oh dream of dreams! How wonderful was this day! Not only did she discover that the owner of the most amazing singing voice was incredibly handsome, and blessed with perfect facial hair, but that his name was so odd that it was painfully trendy! The universe must have been on her side.

  She reached for his hands, causing the lute to drop to the floor, and took a deep breath.

  “Dearest Rapunzel of, er, The Tower in the Mysterious Meadow, I, Princess Avery the Eye-st—“

  “First,” he corrected.

  “What?”

  “I think you mean First, not Eye-st.”

  “Well, that is how it is spelt on mine birth record! Don’t interrupt royalty when they’re speaking.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No worries. I, Princess Avery the First, do invite you to leave this abysmal place and accompany me to the Palace!”

  She could hear it now! All the great praise bestowed upon her, the royal bugles playing their grand fanfare as she and this angelic person strode proudly into the throne room, the subjects cheering her on because she found the next big thing...

  “Um, no.”

  The bugles in her imagination went flat.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I like it here. All my stuff is here. And if Mother has seen that I’ve left she will be furious.”

  “But—I’m the Princess!”

  “And? You can’t just think that because you are this princess I’ll do whatever you say. How privileged you sound! It must be checked.”

  “Oh,” she said and let go of his hand. “But I do not wish to leave you. Why, I would like to establish some kind of meaningful relationship. Or whatever.”

  “I should like that, too. Or, you know, whatever, as well. You could come to visit while my mother is away. She has Divining Classes every Thursday and Spirit Cleansings on Monday evenings.”

  And so it was decided that Princess Avery should visit Rapunzel while Mother Stevia was out.

  For several weeks it seemed that the secret visits between Rapunzel and his greatest admirer, and fan, would remain, of course, secret. Princess Avery was quick to proclaim her love to the beautiful man and his beautiful beard. She brought him presents each time she came to the tower; fine scarves of linens or exotic fabrics from lands far from the tiny kingdom, books on philosophy, flowers to make crowns for his head and to weave into the golden facial hair, and the finest mustache wax crafted from non-modified beeswax. Rapunzel graciously accepted the presents and found that he, too, was starting to have significant feelings for his only friend. He listened to her moan and complain about her problems while he composed songs for her. He also had issues with Stevia which he shared with Avery.

  “You should come with me, fair Rapunzel,” she said and gripped to his hands dramatically. “I shall take you away from this dismal tower so you can bask in the light of the sun and receive great praises from the commoners! Oh, how they would love you as I do!”

  “But my mother—“

  “Your mother is selfish keeping you here! Do you not wish to think for yourself? Do you not wish to be free to choose which kind of tea you prefer to drink rather than the watered-down versions of cheap swill she feeds you? Wouldn’t you like to dance among the alleys of the royal library in order to read the books you find interesting instead of being forced antique practices that died out, like, two decades ago?” She waved a tome before his face.

  He took the book she had been gripping as she made her speech and stroked his mustache curls

  “Is underwater basket-weaving antique? I was hoping to one day try it.”

  Avery snorted and threw the book over her shoulder then threw herself into his arms.

  “Oh, my lovely love! Leave this dreadful hovel and we can live in the renovated stables whilst my parents provide us every luxury we wish! Would that not be avant garde?”

  Seeing how his presence m
ade her happy, and the fact that he did, indeed, care greatly for her, he agreed to leave with her. Soon. They just needed to find an appropriate time in order to tell Stevia that he wished to go on his own. After all, he was an adult and she owed him that chance.

  However, that chance never came. For when Stevia came to visit him the next morning after he agreed to leave with Avery she discovered a small piece of evidence that he hadn’t exactly been alone all this time. She found a copy of Buggy McGeesburg’s autobiography in his bookshelf. Not being a fan of the self-inflated bard, she knew she had never given him the book and demanded to know where he found it.

  Rapunzel lifted his chin with pride, straightened his straw-woven fedora, and proceeded to tell her the truth.

  “Mother, I have met a woman and I wish to leave my home to live semi-independently with her. It is well within my right as a modern man and a member of society.”

  Stevia, as predicted, was furious. Her perfect boy had been tarnished by outside forces. She was determined to discover just who it was that fed him all these lies in order to make him wish for company elsewhere beyond the tower.

  “I should meet this person who has perverted you! And when I do, you shall be sorry you ever tossed your beard down to anyone but me!”

  And, with that, she cut off the beard, leaving it jagged and unkempt, and tied it to the hook he used to pull her and, more recently, the princess into the tower.

  Poor Rapunzel was distraught. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Not only was he to suffer Stevia’s wrath but Princess Avery was about to learn just how protective his mother could be.

  The next day, which was meant to be Stevia’s weekly divining meeting with the local magic-assisted life coaches’ coven, she waited for Rapunzel’s lover to arrive. Just as expected, Avery’s voice floated up to the top of the tower, asking for him to let down his “hair”. With a wicked laugh at her son, Stevia tossed down the braid and pulled the princess inside.

  As you can now imagine, things got awkward rather quick. Avery pulled off her face the strange spectacles of deep gray pieces of glass she had just invented in order to see things a little “darker”(in truth, they helped keep the sunlight from blinding her and she debated on having copies put into production). She stared at the old woman in shock and then down at her de-bearded love.

  “You!” she shouted. “You are the wicked crone who has kept him from living his own life! You-you heartless hoarder of perfect perfection! Thou art so very pathetic!”

  “How dare you call me pathetic, you royal brat!” Stevia shot back. “I have given my son every luxury he could’ve ever wished to possess, but you came here and filled his head full of cheap promises and stupid art and books on elitist nobodies who have stolen good songs from talented bards!”

  “Buggy McGeesburg is a national treasure, Mother! You just cannot comprehend good music when you hear it,” Rapunzel stepped into the argument.

  Stevia regarded her son. With anger he had never seen from her before, she ran at the princess and pushed her out of the tower window. Avery let out a harrowing scream as she fell but discovered, thanks to her ingenuity and love of ironic fashion, the scarves she wore in thick layers around her neck had billowed out and allowed her to gently float down to land safely on the ground.

  “I shall come back for you, Rapunzel,” she shouted. “And I’m bringing my father with me!”

  She galloped away on A Different Color.

  Hours later, she returned, just as promised, with a small army of palace guards and her father the King. Gallantly, he dismounted his large horse, took a moment to fall to one knee, and stretched out his long, red cape to showcase the royal crest of a bejeweled eagle fashioned on his back. He curled his upper lip and nodded in thanks to one of his guards as his steed was secured.

  “I thank you, my good man. I thank you very much,” said the King in his rich voice.

  A loud fanfare of bugles played and Stevia craned her head out of the window. The head guard called up to her to demand she descend from the tower and allow Rapunzel his freedom in the name of the king.

  “I shall not come down, I tell you! My son wants nothing to do with your trollop of a daughter!”

  Hearing her harsh words, the King pointed a heavily ringed finger at her and began to shout.

  “I say now, small mother, should you defy the demands of the king, who happens to be me, you shall suffer greatly!”

  Princess Avery hopped down from A Different Color and stood next to her father. In her hand was a scroll case.

  “Tell her what we discovered, Father!” she said. “Tell her that we know the truth about her son!”

  The king nodded and gave a gallant pose as he unrolled the scroll used to record the births of all children in the kingdom.

  “I say!” he began, “According to this scroll, which lists all legal parents to children born under my royal rule; in regards to the man known as Rapunzel, you are not the mother!”

  A loud gasp echoed across the meadow.

  A second head appeared in the window. Rapunzel stared at Stevia in shock.

  “Is this true?” he asked.

  Stevia shook with fury. “Your parents did a crime against me! Those entitled fools thought they could steal my precious, organic kale! I warned them. They took my kale so I took you. They made a deal!”

  Another gasp sounded from the king’s guards.

  Rapunzel felt real anger for the first time in his young life.

  “You’re a liar,” he said. “I never want to see you again!”

  He grabbed hold of the long braid of his detached beard and slid down, leaving Stevia in the tower screaming in rage.

  Avery met him with a hug and a kiss after she pulled a few scarves away from her mouth. After the reunion, she mounted her mare, pulled her love up to sit behind her, and followed her father and the guards out of the meadow.

  Stevia was eventually taken from the tower and arrested for kidnapping. As punishment for her crime she was forced to live the rest of her days in a home for forgotten elderly folks who spent their time knitting unfashionable wool socks and eating sauce made from cultivated apples.

  Rapunzel reunited with his true parents Atticus and Daisy, and two other siblings, who instantly loved him the moment they met. He never went back to the tower where he had been living the majority of his life. Instead, he ordered the structure to be torn down brick by brick and rebuilt into an alehouse where he could play his music. He gained a small but posh following of music-lovers who came from far lands to hear him sing and play his lute. He was even offered a gig at the upcoming Coacharella but because he didn’t believe in “selling out” he refused the kindness.

  With the King’s blessing, and a rather showy ceremony thanks to his Royal Highness, Rapunzel and Princess Avery entered a legally-binding domestic union (marriage, but they didn’t want to label the relationship) and lived in the refurbished stable just as she promised. Eventually, his beard did begin to grow back although he never allowed it to reach the lengths it had once been. Princess Avery continued to set trends throughout the kingdom varying from large, floppy hats to gentlemen’s jerkins for the ladyfolk. She was quite proud of the so-called “androgynous look” she made famous during one winter. And Rapunzel was never happier.

  And, as is said at the end of all fairy tales, they all lived happily ever after.

  The Substance of a Shadow

  Megan Fuentes

  In Peter Pan, Peter’s shadow can detach himself, just as easily as Peter detaches the dark and grown-up stuff that dares to approach his thoughts. This is Shadow’s side of Peter and Wendy’s first encounter.

  ~~~

  Shadow has done this all before, and he will do this all again. Now, under normal circumstances, the act of abandoning your master like he did would be seen as dangerous, dishonorable, and downright unforgivable. For the shadow of Peter Pan, however, we make an exception.

  Being a shadow is no easy job in the first place. Few know this, but sh
adows catch all the unhappy thoughts of a person and keep them, so as not to have the mind of their master plagued. But shadows, being part of a whole human being, are fallible. They can also grow weary. For these and other reasons, shadows can leak and spill their contents. Perhaps you’ve experienced this during a sleepless night, or after a traumatic event. In any case, we can pardon our shadows because most of them try so hard and work without coffee breaks.

  Can you even imagine the weight on the shoulders of Peter Pan’s shadow?

  “I want always to be a little boy, and to have fun,” he says. This leaves Shadow no room for error. Every unhappy thought must be hidden for Peter to be able to fly. Every mature musing must be erased from memory. Even a glimmer of a growing pain is quickly gutted from his subconscious and gathered into a secret place even Shadow dares not visit.

  Luckily, Peter was born with an exceptional shadow. Not once did Shadow allow his master to suffer the worries grown-ups do. This level of attentiveness in exhausting by itself, but Shadow does not just work—he sees. Shadow follows Peter Pan on every adventure in Neverland, a witness to the rotten treatment of the Lost Boys and the merciless maiming of Captain James Hook. He tried not to think about it, but in a way Shadow blamed himself. He had wielded a dagger just as Peter had, and mimed laughing after tossing it into the shadow-crocodile’s mouth. Not to mention that Shadow doing his job so well is what helps keep Peter a boy in the first place, as boys can only be made men when their shadows allow bodies to grow and musings turn to melancholy.

  Not too long ago, however, Shadow tore himself free. The scene of the crime was a tidy two-story in London. Being a good little shadow, he had dutifully accompanied Peter on his many Earthly excursions. All of these had been to the Darling residence for many moons. There, Peter and Shadow his while they listened to the eldest Darling child tell her brothers marvelous stories. Cinderella, The Three Little Pigs, Jack and the Beanstalk—all of these and more were part of the regular rotation.