My Name is Rapunzel

by K. C. Hilton

  “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.

  Did the dragon know he was a celebrity?

  CHAPTER TEN

  I had to know what she did when she went to town. She didn't come back with boxes or bags, yet she would be gone all day. Why was it okay for her, but not for me? In fact, in my opinion, a gnarled old woman would garner more attention than a normal eighteen-year-old female. Sure, a pretty girl might catch the notice of a young man, but it's not like pretty girls weren’t a dime a dozen. But a witchy-looking creature like Gretta would startle all the grown-ups and horrify schoolchildren at first glance.

  I ate my breakfast as I calculated my plan. It was a simple one. I’d follow her.

  Had she called a taxi already? I waited until she left the kitchen and then scrambled for the phone. I took it into the pantry and slid the door shut so she wouldn’t hear me.

  “AAA Taxi Service. Can I help you?” a singsong voice on the other end of the phone line offered.

  “Please send a taxi to 100 Dragon Lane in Paradise Valley. But, please, I need you to do something very specific.” I waited for assurance.

  “Of course, ma’am. What would you like us to do?”

  “I need the driver to wait just off the property until another taxi leaves the driveway. Then I need him to speed up to the front door and be ready to leave immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am. A car is already on the way. Who might I list as the contact at the address you gave?”

  “Just ask for Rapunzel.” I hung up the phone and raced back through the kitchen toward the hallway.

  I had to know what Gretta was up to. It was worth the risk.

  I traced her steps—down the stairs to the outside, and then through the garden. Oh, wait. What was that? Scissors and snipped leaves from the tulip bed. What need did she have of tulips? She couldn't be visiting someone in the hospital. She didn't know anyone. I walked the path from the garden around to the front of the house as her taxi sped away.

  Now where was the one I called? There it was. Right on time. I shouldered my purse as the taxi pulled up to the front entrance and slowed to a stop. The window buzzed down, “I’m here for a Rap…ra—”

  No time for pleasantries. “That’s me. Let’s go!” I pointed at the taxi speeding down the lane toward town. “Follow that car…only, don’t get caught.”

  The taxi driver looked in the rearview mirror as he backed the car out of the drive. A slight smile curled the corner of his mouth. “You want to follow the car, but not get noticed?”

  “You've got it. Bonus in it for you if you'll hang with me for multiple stops.”

  The taxi driver shrugged. “I've got nothing better to do.”

  I gripped the headrest in front of me and stared at the passing scenery. It really was a beautiful land if I could stop and enjoy it for half a breath. But it seemed like everything was always traumatic. I needed to decompress one of these days, maybe even have some sort of getaway vacation, if I could somehow arrange it with the dragon.

  The hills grew further apart as we neared town. The first thing we approached was the bank. I always found it funny that the first thing they want you to do when you enter town is get your money out and the last thing you're expected to do when you leave town is put your money in. Well, the bank sure had plenty of my money. I guessed I should be thankful.

  Now, where was that taxi? Funny I'd been eager to get to the same town I forced myself to avoid. But desperate times called for desperate measures, right? Besides, I’d stay in the taxi. No one would see me.

  The driver pointed straight ahead. “That it? That's the one?”

  “Yep, that's the one.”

  “Looks like that lady’s going to Clements Pub.”

  “I highly doubt that.” I gripped the headrest in front of me and pulled myself forward to peer through the front window.

  Gretta’s cab pulled into the parking lot of a nightclub and the engine turned off.

  “But it's not even open. It's the middle of the day.”

  “Just because
they're called nightclubs doesn't mean that's the only time of day you can go to them. Lots of people go earlier so they can get their drink on.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I don't get out much.”

  The driver looked me over. “Apparently not.”

  Gretta climbed from the back of her taxi and clamped a baseball cap onto the top of her head as she ducked from view. The baseball cap was a nice touch. It looked ridiculous.

  The trunk popped open and Gretta moved around to the back. She reached in and pulled out a bundle of multicolored tulips. Purple, yellow, and pink. For whom? Or what? She hurried from the parking lot to the side door of the nightclub and let herself in like she’d been there before.

  “Driver, I need you to go into that place and see what that old lady is up to.”

  The driver shook his head and laughed. “Oh, no, you don't. That’s outside of my job description. I'm not walking blindly into some family squabble. You want to know what that lady is doing, you go see for yourself.”

  “No, you don't understand. You'll be safe. I just need you to do this for me, and that's it.”

  The driver looked into the rearview mirror and searched my eyes. He must have found something trustworthy there. “Okay, okay. I'll go see what she's doing, then we’re out of here.” The man climbed out of the taxi and walked swiftly to the side door through which Gretta had disappeared moments before.

  Good. Confidence is the first step toward being believable.

  He reached the door, pulled it open, and then stepped through. I watched the digital clock turn from one-fifteen to one-twenty. Then it was one thirty, one thirty-five. What was he doing in there? I hope he didn't expect me to pay him for all this extra time he was wasting. And if he was in there drinking, he wasn’t getting paid at all.

  Finally the door opened and the driver stepped through. I slouched down in my seat in case Gretta followed behind. But there was no sign of her. The driver ducked his head and jogged back to the cab and climbed into the front seat.

  “What on earth took you so long?”

  The driver glared at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Okay. Okay. Sorry. What did you find?” I braced myself for anything.

  The driver shrugged. “I don't know if you’ll believe it. And if you believe it, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it.”

  Oh, great. “Just tell me.”

  “That old lady? She’s in there with some guy. She brought the flowers for him. When she got there, the first thing she did was approach him where he sat at a table. She handed the flowers to him and gave him a hug and a kiss. And then she fixed up the flowers in a vase with some water. She set it up all pretty like in the center of the table where he sat.”

  My thoughts swam. Where to focus my energy first? Gretta knew a local man? She brought him flowers at a nightclub? They kissed? Gross. I couldn’t think of anything more disgusting than kissing Gretta. I shuddered.

  What now? “Hey, do you have one of those smart phone things?”

  The guy furrowed his eyebrows. “Smart phone things? You mean a cell phone? Yeah. So?”

  “Well how about you go back in there and take a picture for me? I have got to see this guy.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m so not going back in there. They've each had a couple of drinks by now and it's a little weird. I felt uncomfortable already. Let me just tell you there's something going on between the two of them. She brought him flowers. They acted all lovey-dovey like—”

  “Wait. The door’s opening.” I leaned forward for a better view.

  Gretta backed out the door pulling something. Had she killed him and was now dragging his body out to dispose of it? That would be easier to believe than the alternative, which was that Gretta had a boyfriend.

  She propped the door open with her foot and scooted her body back, holding the door open with her hip. She pulled a handle of some sort… Wait a second. I squinted. A wheelchair? Gretta pulled a wheelchair through the doorframe and pivoted it on its back wheels to turn it around facing down the ramp.

  “Whoa. I didn't see that coming.” The driver’s mouth hung wide open in surprise.

  “You didn't see that coming? You mean you missed the wheelchair?” Way to be observant.

  “No, he was sitting up to a table. I just thought he was sitting in a chair. I found it kind of rude that he didn’t get up since, for all he knew, I was a customer. But I figured he didn’t really have to. To each his own, you know? No big deal.”

  I couldn’t peel my stare from the scene.

  Gretta pushed the wheelchair toward the sidewalk and off they went. Seriously? She was taking him on an afternoon stroll? I felt like I’d entered some kind of alternate universe where right was wrong and up was down.

  I peered at the man in the wheelchair. Who was that guy? I'd never seen him before. How did Gretta know him? And why was she pushing him down the street like that? I had to know more. I jumped from the taxi and leaned down to the driver’s window. “I can pay you up to now or you can just wait here and keep the meter running. Up to you.”

  The driver shrugged. “I'll just wait. No skin off my nose.”

  What did that even mean? I still have trouble understanding slang. Whatever. I didn’t have time to decipher it at that moment.

  I ducked behind some rosebushes and made my way along the hedges in someone's yard. Hopefully the owners weren't home.

  Gretta turned the corner and stopped at a hotdog cart. She bought two then added some extra relish and handed one to the man in the wheelchair. I shifted position. I could see his face if I moved a bit more.

  There. That did it. Wow. He looked to be about sixty or sixty-five years old. Not a bad looking guy even at that age. Probably really handsome in his day.

  He smiled up at Gretta as she handed him the hot dog. Made no sense. Should I approach her and surprise her? Just come right out and ask?

  What would Gretta do if I stepped out from my hiding place and confronted her? Did I really want to find out? Yeah. Probably not.

  They continued on their way. I followed from a safe distance, careful not to make too much noise or get too close. Being discovered would ruin the whole thing. I heard a noise behind me and glanced back. The taxi. Ugh. Why was he following me?

  I reached back with my hand and gestured for him to stop as I shot him a nasty glare. He pulled over to the side of the curb and turned off his engine. He held up a hand and nodded like he understood. Geez, dude.

  Gretta stopped the wheelchair and clicked the brake on with her foot. She walked up to the house, turned the key in the lock, and then went back for the wheelchair. She pushed it up to the door. She was clearly helping this guy. Now the question was whether or not she was doing it because she was being paid, or because there was something between the two of them.

  The first option made no sense. She had no need for money. The second option was…well…gross.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Judging by the position of the sun in the sky, it was time for another daily visit to the mailbox. Should I take my bicycle on this warm afternoon? No, it felt like a good day for a walk. Besides, I had plenty of time before Pepper would arrive and before Gretta would return from her jaunt to town—which had happened more and more frequently since the day I’d followed her. I tried to keep my mind from traveling to the possible scenarios of what Gretta’s visits entailed.

  I headed toward the door and reached for my hat and sunglasses on the shelf beside it. As I stepped into the sunlight I lifted my face and let it bask in the glow. I sauntered down the lane, careful to avoid the big rocks so I wouldn't trip and scrape up my hands. That would ruin a nice day. One might call it a perfect day, but perfect was a stretch in my vocabulary. Regarding anything.

  The mailbox sat untouched for the day, waiting for the postal worker to arrive with the deliveries. I wandered over to the weeping willow that sat on the south side of the winding lane between the mailbox and house. I leaned against the trunk and eased my
self to the ground. It was a wonderful place to wait.

  Legs stretched out in front of me, ankles crossed, I reached for a blade of grass and placed it between my teeth. “A nasty habit,” Henry used to say. “Keep doing that, and your teeth will be staying green after a bit.”

  Well, Henry, looks like you were wrong about that. Still chewing on grass blades two hundred and fifty years later. Teeth still white. The corners of my mouth turned up as I imagined what Henry's retort would be. You've got at least another two-fifty to go. You’d better hope your luck doesn't run out.

  The sun reached its height almost directly overhead. Pepper was due almost any minute.

  On cue, I heard the still far away sound of crunching gravel.

  Scanning the trees for birds and squirrels, I startled as my eyes landed on a man's figure on the far hillside. I'm sure our eyes met, but he was too far away for me to tell. Was he watching me? No, that wasn't possible. It was all in my head. Plenty of people took long walks through the countryside, and he just happened to see me from a distance. That was all.

  I closed my eyes against the memory.

  ***

  It was the year 1864 and I could see the flickering lights from their torches bobbing among the trees as they moved from town, marching down the lane toward the castle. I counted six, unless there were some not carrying torches. If so, there was no telling how many men were part of the witch hunt. It was rare these days that women were actually burned, but was that a risk I was willing to take?

  How had they discovered my secret? How did they know?

  My biggest fear wasn't dying. It was not dying.

  I knew what they did to witches. How long could my body withstand being burned at the stake without disintegrating? Would it just burn on and on? My stomach churned in fear of the answer to that question. I might not be able to die, but I could surely feel pain.