Emily and Amber; A Fairy Story

I wrote this story as a gift for my daughter Emily.

Outside, the snow dazzled and sparkled. Inside, it warmed the back, shoulders and dark hair of a beautiful nine year old girl. The pleasant feeling was coupled with the joy she was feeling while reading her favorite book. Her body may have been sitting on the window seat in her sister’s room, but her mind was worlds away…

“Emily, are you coming? Hurry up!” Amber called to her best friend in the next tree over. “We don’t want to be late!”

“I’m coming! Just one more paragraph and I’ll be done with this chapter!” Emily called back, not looking up from her book.

Amber sighed impatiently, tapping her foot so that the leaves on the branch she was standing on trembled to the beat. “It’s not like it’s not her third time through this book,” she muttered to herself.

“Okay, done! I’m coming!” Emily tucked her book safely in the hollow of the tree and stood up. She smoothed out her purple petunia dress and looked around for her shoes. She always kicked her shoes off while she read, which meant she was always looking for her shoes when she was not reading. “Have you seen my…”

“Shoes?” Emily looked up at Amber who was dangling her shoes from her fingers. Emily gave her a sheepish grin as she gracefully lifted herself from her branch with her wings and silently glided to Amber’s branch. “Shanksh,” she said through closed teeth. Amber rolled her eyes with a smile.

Both fairies ascended into the dappled sunlight glinting through the foliage of their forest. They dipped and swirled through the air giggling. As they flew, they were joined one by one by other fairies their age. They waved and greeted many of their friends. “Hi, Cherry!” “Leela! Did you finish that killer math assignment?” “Hey, Chad!” An exceptionally cute fairy by the name of Charles winked at them and set them off into another gale of giggles.

As they approached the wide, tall Oak tree, they slowed in their flight. Mrs. Wood smiled at her class as they alighted on the front steps of the Greenwood School for Young Fairies and ran on tip toes to their seats. “Welcome, Everyone! I trust you had a wonderful weekend.”

She was greeted by lots of nodding heads and murmured, “Um-hmm”s.

“I hope you were all able to finish your homework,” she said brightly. A few people bit their lips and looked down because they had obviously forgotten. “Not to worry,” she said pleasantly. “We will only have time for a few of you to report today, so those that aren’t finished have another day, but please be prepared to present your findings tomorrow.” Several sighs and relieved expressions could be heard throughout the room. “Now, who would like to be first to present today on something in the forest that changes?”

Charles looked around and then sat up straight and raised his hand. “Charles!” Mrs. Wood’s voice held surprise. “Please stand at the front of the classroom and tell us about your findings.”

Charles stood and shuffled to the front of the classroom in his moss green shorts and short sleeved shirt. His sandaled feet made no sound on the grass that grew like carpet on the floor. He ran his fingers through his sandy colored curly hair. His blue-green eyes were still looking at the floor when he reached the front of the room and turned to face his classmates. He smiled as he looked up. “When I was flying home from school on Friday, thinking about this assignment, I decided to fly over the lake and take the long way home. I didn’t want to get eaten by a jumping fish or anything, so I stuck close to the edge of the lake and flew around and around it. After about the third time around, I decided to stop and get a closer look at a moving cloud I had noticed under the water. I landed on a cattail and peered down into the water. As I watched, the cloud moved and shifted around and I could see that it was made up of a whole bunch of really tiny critters. I kept watching and I could see the ones on the edge of the cloud and I realized they were little tadpoles!” Charles grinned and held his fingers up to show how tiny they were. Even to a fairy, who are much smaller than we are, these tadpoles were pretty small.

“So, anyway, as I sat there swaying on that cattail, I realized that these little guys used to be eggs and pretty soon, they’ll be frogs. Pretty cool change, right, Mrs. W?”

“Yes, Charles. Great job! Later today, we’ll be starting to write about our findings about the change around us. Really great.” Mrs. Wood leaped (with the help of her wings) to the front of the classroom and wrote ‘Tadpole to Frog’ on the sanded wall of the tree with her pollen chalk. She turned around as Charles took his seat again. “Anyone else?”

Emily tentatively raised her hand. Looking timid, she went to the front of the room when Mrs. Wood smiled at her encouragingly.

“Well,” she started softly. She glanced at Amber who winked encouragingly and mouthed “Speak up!” Emily laced her fingers together behind her back and stood up straight and tall. Taking a deep breath, she started again, “On Saturday, my sisters Becca and Grace and I discovered an unopened chrysalis hanging outside our bedroom window. Last week, we noticed that a caterpillar had been chewing the edges of the leaves around our house. I guess she picked our branch to build a chrysalis because it is nice and sunny, and sheltered from the wind. She just sort of hooked herself on there, hanging upside down. The chrysalis is grey and it looks like layers and layers of paper wrapped around her long body. My mother said they stay in their chrysalis for about 10 days and I figure she’s been in there for about 8 days.”

“You know, Emily, that sounds like a great field trip for our class if we could watch your butterfly emerge. How does that sound?”

Emily nodded vigorously without speaking. Mrs. Wood chuckled. “Alright, we’ll have to see about that. Good work, Emily! Sounds like you’ve got the makings for a great write-up, too! Good luck!” Emily flitted to her desk while Mrs. Wood wrote ‘Caterpillar to Butterfly’ underneath Charles’ project name.

Amber was practically dancing in her seat, bouncing up and down and waving her arm in the air. “Yes, Amber, would you like to be next?” Mrs. Wood smiled.

Amber jumped out of her seat and skipped to the front of the room. She loved having all eyes on her and she began to talk so fast, Mrs. Wood had to stop her and remind her to speak slowly and distinctly. She started again.

“I was flying through the forest with my brother, Mikey and my Dad and we flew farther than we had ever been before.  My Dad was telling us all about what the forest looked like when he was a kid. He said it went on and on without ever ending… or at least as far as he knew. He said he never thought it had an edge. Right after he married my Mom, though, there was this huge fire!” Mrs. Wood nodded sadly, remembering. “It burned, like, EVERYTHING! It almost got all the way here to our small town. Everyone was getting ready to move as it got closer and closer.

“Then he told us about how the whole town, every single fairy there was, went out and combined their magic and stopped the fire. He said it was like a wall of magic that wouldn’t let the fire pass. He said it took all of their energy and they stayed there for, like, a whole day, just keeping up their magic wall. When the fire finally died, they were all so exhausted, they just dropped to the ground right there and slept. As they slept, the plants underneath them grew up around them and kept them safe while they slept. When they woke up, they were laying where it was plush and green, but right in front of them everything was black an charred. Everything had been killed and burned. He cried a lot when he told us about that part.”

“Amber, I hate to interrupt your fascinating story, but I was wondering if you could tell us about the part that made you think about the assignment. What was the change that you wanted to document in your project?” Mrs. Wood said kindly.

“Well, when we stopped at the edge of the forest on Saturday, it wasn’t black anymore. There was green stuff draped on everything that used to be black. There aren’t any tall trees there anymore, but there are baby trees and lots and lots of green stuff growing everywhere!” Amber was making big gestures with her arms and jumping around to show just how much green there had been there.

“Amber, that is a very ambitious project you’ve got in mind, there. But I think you can do it. Wonderful idea!” Mrs. Wood added ‘Forest after Fire’ to the list on the board. “I think we’ve got a great start for our projects, Class. I want you all to keep thinking about what you’d like to learn more about and write your project on. For now, let’s take a break at recess. Please clear your desks and enjoy your break!”

“Emily?! Emily, where are you?”

Emily became aware of the sun again on her back. “Huh?” Carpet was on the floor instead of grass. She shrugged her shoulders to be sure there were no wings fluttering behind her. Next to her on the window seat, Amber smiled her same smile. Was that a wink? Emily looked again at her favorite doll. “Did you just wink at me?” she whispered.

“Em? Come to the living room for Family Home Evening!” called her mother. Emily shoved her bookmark in her book, grabbed Amber and trotted off to spend time with her real life family, with a big grin on her face.

There Was an Old Woman

The barely-pink of a new day began to light the sky through the curtain-less window at the end of the bed. Her old bones creaked louder than the bed as she slowly rolled out onto her knees.

"Please, God, bless them," was all she said out loud though her thoughts swirled around each face that now lay sleeping on the other sides of the walls. Stiffly, she dressed as her muscles remembered movements from a few short hours ago. Her cotton dress and apron where very thin between the patches and she could feel the floor through her shoes. She had just swooped the last flying hair into her bun before she heard the first bare footsteps hurrying in the hall to the bathroom.

'Must be Eric, bladder the size of a flea,' she thought with a smile as she creaked open the door and stepped out into the hall. A glance to her left affirmed her suspicion and she closed the bathroom door on her way by. Little boys had no time for closing doors.

"Mornin' Sam," she greeted the wispy boy already sitting at the long table in the kitchen. "What's two and two?"

Bright eyes beamed as he puffed out his chest and answered, "Four, Ma'am!"

She chuckled as she ruffled his hair. "Good. Please go and get that many loaves of bread out of the pantry." Sam jumped off the bench and ducked into the pantry, narrowly missing a collision with a troupe of 3 girls coming around the corner. "Good morning, Ma'am!" they chorused with a triple curtsy.

"Good morning, Lizzie, Alma and Beth. Please go out and gather the eggs." They gave each other their best 'that's what I hoped she'd say' winks and skipped synchronously out the kitchen door. She turned and nearly trod on Sam who was already carefully lining up crisp brown bread loaves onto the cutting board. She folded her arms across her ample frame and fixed him sternly in her sights.

"Count the loaves, Samuel."

"One - two - three - four ... four!" he grinned with three teeth missing. "We always just want a little bit more," he said, trying to melt her will with his wide, pleading eyes.

"I know, I know," she said softly as she removed the fifth loaf and placed it back into the pantry.

"Mine!" Nuh-uh, 's mine!" "I ain't givin' it back!" Two quarreling voices stopped short at the look on her face. Hands on hips, she did not release their gaze until one said, "Sorry, Ma'am" and the other echoed reluctantly. She held out her hand and a chipped marble was placed there solemnly.

"I'll keep this safe until we can remember how to share, shall I?" Two downturned heads nodded and sluffed their way to the table.

By now, the fire in the stove had been resurrected and a tall, stringy haired girl named Marie was stirring the eggs into a frothy, steamy mound. Her twin sister, Anne was carefully slicing the bread into thin, but not too thin, slices. The giggling egg-gathering trio were dancing around the table placing plates, forks and cups right next to each other all around the long dining table.

A matched set of four tow-headed boys then tramped in from outside and lined up to use the wash basin. The tallest finished his face and as he passed on the towel, he said, "Goats mucked and fed." The next tallest repeated the routine saying, "Chickens fed and watered." Next in line said, "Garden watered." And the last shiny face said, "Porch swept."

"Thank'ee, boys," she said with a grin as she ruffled the hair of William, Seth, Billy and Willy. As more sleepy heads joined the crew and they all squeezed in around the table and clasped their hands for prayer, she thought to herself, as she did every morning, "These children's parents sure are missing out."

As they bowed their heads, a young woman stood on the front porch under the hand painted sign that read 'Orphanage' with a wriggling bundle in her arms. The children all looked up in surprise when they heard the bell ring. But not Sadie Eloise Wikersham Shields Landon. She just smiled. For she had so many children, she knew exactly what to do.

Sandy

Sandy tiptoed lightly in the almost-dark. The surface felt hard and flat like a rock, but it didn’t suck the heat from her feet. It looked brown like a tree, but there was no bark. Moonlight filtered into the room through a humongous square hole in the wall between the floor and the ceiling. Everything here was so square, such sharp angles, nothing like what she was used to. There was only silence as her tiny feet tipped on their toes around the corner of a tall wall with writing on it, then she stopped short. There it was! The source of the mouthwatering smell she had been following in the crisp fall air outside this place.


Like everything around here, it was gigantic and the aroma this close was almost overpowering. Sandy’s mouth watered so much she had to run her finger under her lip to keep it from escaping. If you could put a mirror in front of her face right now, she would have been lost to a fit of giggles at what she called her “Awe-ful face,” the one that is full of awe. Her eyes were round and her mouth hung open, stretching out the ever-present dimples in her plump, rosy cheeks. Her hands clasped under her chin, she slowly tip toed forward, still listening to the silence for any sign of life. Her round, jaw-hanging face slowly morphed as she considered the delicious smelling thing. Her lips came together and cocked to one side, making one dimple deeper than the other and her eyebrows pushed together and lowered toward her be-freckled button nose.
“Why does it smell like apples if it doesn’t look like apples?” she wondered to herself.


She stretched out a finger and touched a rough, crackle-y, crumble-y edge. For being as big as a pond and smelling so delicious, it sure wasn’t very pretty. Moonlight washes the color from things, but come on, this thing must not have had much color to begin with! The edge was darker than the middle, though both were bumpy. The middle had soft bumps like small hills and valleys on a grass covered knoll. The edge was harder and sharper looking like the rocks she had seen layered in the mountains. Then a faint glisten caught her eye. In the middle, there were small cracks that glistened in the moonlight. At first, Sandy thought there was only one, but she soon noticed quite a few of them in a pattern. That had to be how the wonderful smell got out! Before you can say boo, Sandy was hovering over one of the cracks stretching out a finger. When the finger hit her tongue, she immediately plunged her whole hand up to her wrist into the hole and scooped out a big, dripping glob. She opened and closed her mouth and used her tongue as if she were eating a big blob of ice cream. It was sweet and spicy and although she couldn’t see what apples had to do with anything, this yummy sauce would taste wonderful with some! Suddenly, it dawned on her. The bumps! They must be chunks of apples! She had never seen chunks so big, but after all, an apple could feed her entire family for a week or more, one scoop at a time.


Without thinking, she plunged her arms in up to her elbows on either side of a nearby bump. She dug down into the sweet goodness and grabbed hold of the slippery underneath side of an apple. She pulled and sat down hard when her hands slipped up the gooey sides and sucked out of the crusty lid holding down the apple. Sandy giggled out loud and then smacked a gooey hand over her mouth. She sat still and listened, but she didn’t hear any movement. She stood now with her hands on her hips considering the reluctant bump. Trying to keep the goo to skin ratio at a minimum, she opted to use her heel to crack the crusty lid all the way around the bump. She kicked her heel down and tried to stop it before she went feet first into a pond of goo. She considered herself successful when only the bottom and not the sides of her silk slippers were gooey. She put both hands under the now miniature lid and threw her weight against it to get it to tip and fall to one side. There before her was a chunk of apple bigger than her head, covered in thick, speckled goo. She knew it must be heavy and the goo would not help in getting this odd shaped object away from its friends. She could see now that the whole thing was full of huge chunks of apples swimming in speckled goo. The words “give up” never occur to Sandy. She squatted down and lifted an edge slowly towards the surface. Panting and blowing stray hair out of her face, she didn’t quit until she heaved the huge chunk out and up.


Just then, she heard shuffling coming from the other room. “What have I done?” she thought, alarmed. “They’ll see!” She paused for a moment too long as she considered if she had time to heave the apple chunk back into its hole and put the lid back. Just then, the door knob across the room clicked and Sandy felt panic rise into her throat. She jumped and flew for the open window that was now streaked with pink and orange announcing the sun. She kept her eyes on the door as it cracked open and a head just taller than the door knob peeked out. Just a glimmer of recognition flashed across the small big-person’s face before her hand shot up to her eyebrows as the rising sun cleared the window sill and sent a ray to fill the room with light. Sandy counted on the sun to erase her memory from the face she had seen peeking out between the door. She looked back only to wince as the person poked at the apple Sandy had left on top and then she had to dodge behind a leaf as the girl’s eyes darted to the window with wonder. “Whew!” Sandy brushed the hair hanging in her face back with the rest before she realized that she was still sticky. She rolled her eyes as she turned on one heel and stalked along the branch she had alighted upon.


It wasn’t as if she wasn’t old enough to be out exploring all night by herself if she wanted to, but now she’d be tired and people would ask her questions.


Tell me in your comment what you saw happening in this practice piece. :)

Mechanically Declined

Okay, computer, I'm ready to type. Let's start with my name. D - I -

Where did this kid come from? I have computer chips designed by geniuses an she's spelling her name with one finger. What's the human mind coming to? I bet I could access a million bytes of information in the time it takes to spell her name. If all humans are this way I'm glad I'm a computer.

I'm done typing. Now, where is that darn spell check? I know there's one somewhere. I'll try looking under "help."

I swear she's going to wear out my help. I think I've told her where the spell check is just about every time she plops herself down in front of me. Try looking under "edit," Swifty. It's always there, it's not like it moves as soon as you shut me off. It's a good thing for her I can help her with some of her problems.

Oh, there it is! I think it moves every time I try to find it. Okay, now I want to print a copy. Now I need to print. Print... Hmmm...

Here, I'll be merciful. Here's your stupid paper. A half of a page? What kind of moron takes an hour to write a half of a page?! You, I guess. You know, they invented computers simple enough for people like you, but they've since been mummified in the back of some storage room in the basement of an abandoned warehouse in Mississippi.

Well, nighty, night computer. Thanks for your help. See you tomorrow.

I think I'm getting debugged tomorrow.

written circa 1995 by Diana Lee

SnowWhite and RoseRed - 1 of 3

“You let a vagrant into our apartment?! Are you nuts, Cherry?”

“He was hungry,” Cherry shrugged. “I only brought him out some warm soup. We sat and talked on the front porch. Did I tell you he once met the Dalai Llama? Besides, he’s not a vagrant- he’s a student.”

Her mouth hung open. Before a mean word had time to form in her mouth, however, she was shaking her head and patting her sister’s hand as she would when indulging a child.

“You should have met him, Bianca! He’s had the most interesting life!” Cherry’s arms flung out and her bright eyes shone.

Bianca turned to dump her school books in a chair and hide her smile from her sister. “Just don’t give him a key, alright, Sis?” she continued to hide her smile behind rolling eyes.

The next day, Bianca headed home burdened by an overflowing backpack and looming Midterms. She crunched through the leaves conglomerated together all across campus. She tried to hide her chapped hands inside the sleeves of her hoodie sweatshirt and quickened her step at the sight of cheery yellow-lit windows of home. She heard voices before she reached the edge of the grassy front yard of the old home, turned apartment building.

“You’re too kind, Cherry,” a deep, laughing voice boomed pleasantly. “I can’t remember when I’ve had food this good!”

“Tell me more about Connecticut,” Cherry’s voice sounded pleased and excited.

“Hey, Cherry. What’s up?” Cherry didn’t quite catch the wary glint in her sister’s eyes in the dark.

“Bianca! This is Peter!”

Peter switched hands with his plate and offered the free one to Bianca. “A pleasure,” he mumbled, his beard rising where his mouth underneath must have been also.

Bianca shook her icy hand out of her sleeve and gently squeezed the calloused hand back. “Nice to meet you… Peter.” She must have seemed hesitant because Peter attempted a hasty exit.

SnowWhite and RoseRed - 2 of 3

“Your sister is too kind. I shouldn’t take advantage… it’s not… I’m not as I seem.” It was obvious by the way he was stepping backwards and the look on his face that he was well aware that he had ended lamely and wanted nothing more than to be gone.

“No, no! Don’t be silly! Finish your dinner… my sister paid much more attention to our Mother’s cooking lessons, for sure. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if I joined you,” Bianca smiled most genuinely.

The stranger glanced back at Cherry who gave him an “I told you so” look and giggled. “Yours is in the warming oven, Bink,” winked Cherry.

Bianca re-emerged with a plate, fork and coat to catch the last half of an apparently hilarious comment, “… so he looked it up and found out there really is a market for ………………… in the U.S.”

Peter wiped his eyes and smiled hopefully at Bianca. “So, are you named for the beautiful and adored younger daughter of Baptista Minola?”

Bianca raised one eyebrow and quipped back, “Are you named for the composer of Swan Lake and The Nutcracker?”

“Touché!” Peter chuckled deeply. “Indeed, my mother’s favorite Tchaikovsky was Sleeping Beauty. Spot on!”

Bianca sat and raced the frost to eat her food before the steamy white curls left her plate. No sooner had she finished than Peter took his leave of them and crunched through the leaves with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his threadbare jacket.

The next night, it was Bianca who answered the sycophantic knocking on their door.

“Come in, Peter!” If Bianca’s warm smile threw him off, he didn’t show it as he returned with his own. “Let me take your coat,” she said helping him off with it. She shook the season’s first snowflakes off onto the entry-0way rug and hung it on the coat tree. Peter shook melted snow out of his dark, curly locks and beard.
“Cherry invited me back for lasagna,” Peter said sheepishly.

“The table’s already set for three and we’re almost finished.” Bianca ignored the hole in his sweatshirt as she grabbed him by the elbow and steered him toward the table.

The winter passed pleasantly as Cherry and Bianca practiced their cooking on a more-than-willing Peter. He often stayed until late into the night studying with the sisters as either quizmaster or contestant. As the snow slowly stopped darkening their doorway, so, too, did Peter.

Bianca answered the phone one beautiful Spring day. “Hi, Peter! We’ve missed you coming around!”

He chuckled deeply. “I’m calling to tell you that, grateful though I am, I won't be coming around during the summer. I have… business… anyway, please know that I wish I was with you.”

Shocked, Bianca stared at the fingers of her left hand while clutching the phone with her right. “Alright, Peter,” she heard herself say.

“Goodbye, Bianca,” The words faded to whispers.

“Bye…” was that a click? “Peter.”

SnowWhite and RoseRed - 3 of 3

Later that afternoon, cherry and Bianca were indulging themselves with a drive in the countryside surrounding their college town. They delighted in fields of Mamas with their babies; cows and calves, ewes and lambs, mares and foals. Just before they turned back towards campus, they came upon a tiny, dilapidated, rusted VW bug in a soft spot on the shoulder of the dirt road they were traveling.

A stocky, scruffy man was feverishly attempting to push the bug out of the Spring mud alone. Cherry pulled their car over and the sisters got out to help.

“I don’t need help from the likes of you!” spat the little man.

“Of course you do!” Cherry insisted with a smile.

Bianca stuck her head in the driver’s window to make sure it was in neutral and blinked once at the sun glinting on a Blackberry sitting on the passenger seat. Cherry and Bianca pushed with all their might while the mud-splattered man jumped up and down waving his arms and yelling at them not to help. When the car was clear of the mud, he sloshed over to it, squelched in and drove away flicking mud all over as he sped away.

With a shrug and a hug, the girls re-entered their own car and continued home with a clear conscience.

Not even a week later, the girls encountered their hapless acquaintance again as they strolled across a park in the ever warming weather. They hummed along with the jewelry box tune the carousel was playing as they neared. What met their eyes, however, made them drop their ice cream cones and run for the carousel. Their cranky friend was yelling croakily as he was dragged around the well-worn circle of compressed dirt around the carousel. The operator was frantically punching buttons on the panel in front of her as Cherry and Bianca jumped on the whirling ride. Bianca grabbed the writhing man around the waist and tried to pull him up onto the platform while Cherry was attempting to unhook his belt buckle from the bolt it was caught on just under the lip of the platform. Once free, the man grabbed a laptop case form the platform at the girls’ feet and took off running across the park shaking his fist at them.

Clear conscience or not, it was ungratifying work saving this particular ruffian.
Peter was a taboo subject as the weather continued to warm and the girls toed the line between summer jobs and a class or two here and there.

Bianca was reading a novel as she walked, determined to finis the last four pages before her shift at the shoe store started three blocks and twenty minutes away. She stopped walking at the corner to wait for the light to turn green. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a distracted couple on a moped chatting over the driver’s shoulder to each other. As she turned her head back to her book, her hand shot out and grabbed the back of the shirt of a man to pull him back onto the curb just as the moped cut the curve and sped around the corner.

“Don’t touch me! How dare… YOU?!” the last word ejaculated forth with such vehemence as Bianca’s heart fell to her knees at the sight of the dirty little man too oft spared by her. “Don’t… you… touch…”

Bianca’s eyes closed and her hands flew up to protect her face as fist collided with jaw. Bianca gasped sharply as she parted her fingers and gaped at the short form crumpled on the sidewalk at her feet.

“Peter!” Bianca’s hands went from her fact to around her hero’s neck.
Peter picked her up around the waist and swung her in a circle. “He’s been blackmailing me and stealing from my father’s company and blocking me from my family’s accounts. I’m… well, I’m actually very… my family owns several large factories here and overseas, Bianca. This bloke here,” Peter jabbed the unconscious man with his toe, “stumbled upon my Blackberry while cleaning my office in my Father’s building here in town. He stole my identity and changed my pin numbers to cut me off and has been threatening my family. The police couldn’t catch him and now here you are saving his neck!” His jolly laugh filled Bianca with joy. The police appeared out of nowhere and handcuffed the awakening double crosser. Peter slipped his hand in hers and they walked off into the sunset.

Now that you have read my version, read HERE the version of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm.

Rapunzel - 1 of 3

The soft whir of power source fans and the hushed, whispering voices slowly came back into focus as William raised his head from the desk and rubbed his eyes. That was the third time he had woken up in the computer lab on campus during just one assignment. The combination of late nights and mountains of non-interesting homework was taking its toll on Will as it has done and will do for thousands of other upper middle classmen at any university across the nation. William’s Alma matter of choice happened to be Utah State University. It wasn’t that he didn’t like majoring in Computer Science, he did, it just didn’t make for the most interesting study sessions in the world.

Usually when he needed a break to get him back in focus, he hit the gym from anywhere to a half an hour to a few hours. Swimming, racquetball, basketball, running, anything that got his heart pumping and got rid of the nervous energy that develops while sitting in one position in class or in the computer lab. This time, though, it was getting really late and he decided to save the assignment for tomorrow morning before class.

He leaned back, making the computer lab chair creak and pop as it supported his muscular torso and clean cut head stretched out over the top. He rubbed his freshly shorn head and stretched back forward, reaching for the mouse and keyboard to close everything up.

Just one more click. He glanced through the drop down menu of friends’ blogs and scrolled to Justin. Click. Funny man Justin must not have had time to blog this week, it’s the same blog as a few days ago. The mouse skimmed up to the top right corner towards the big red X. Wait, what’s this? Click. The button read “Next Blog.” William is digitally whisked to someone else’s blog, their thoughts coursing through miles and miles of cable from what appeared to be Japan. A couple of interesting pictures, but no words he could understand. Click. German. Click. A blog dedicated to promoting a weight loss product. Click.

William’s eyes widened. “Rapunzel” flourished across the top in a sweeping font. The caption underneath read, “My lifeline thrown out of my tower, for expressing myself to the unknown is my only relief from captivity.”

A little dramatic, Will thinks to himself as he reads her profile. “It doesn’t really matter where I’m from or what I’m like, you will never meet me and even if we did meet, you would never know it was me. I don’t know you and you don’t know me, so come on, let’s dance anyway!”

Will can’t help but read on about this anonymous woman. She could be anywhere and she doesn’t know he is the one ogling her thoughts from a college computer lab in Logan, Utah. The ambiguity and anonymity of the web makes it as intriguing as it is perilous.

The first entry is less than a week old followed by one posted this morning. Scrolling to the bottom, Will started with the first entry.

"12 September I’m not really sure who to address this to, since nobody I know can ever find out about this blog. My parents are already in a habit of checking all of my email before I do, so this is the way I have come up with to pop the stopper on my bottled emotions. I guess if that’s weird or scary, nobody will keep reading and I can use this as my own personal journal to spill my guts to. Who wants to listen to a 22 year old shut in anyway? If I want to hang out with my Dad at all, I can’t be exposed to sicknesses that his chemotherapied body can’t handle. I take my Vitamin C every day, drink lots of water, get lots of sleep… it’s almost like I’m the one that is sick all the time.

"Today is the day that he found out last year. One year of doctor appointments, treatments, tears and a regular roller coaster of finding hope, losing it and finding it again. The man I knew a year ago as the strongest man in the world, my rock, has been reduced to a skinny, pale, balding man with a quiet voice and sad eyes. The only mother I’ve ever known, my Step Mom Alice, is taking things really hard. I don’t remember life before Alice; I was only 3 when they got married. What kid loses both parents to cancer?”

William was acutely aware of his heart beating in his chest. Everything around him moved in slow motion as the mystery woman’s words sunk in. He was in her world, feeling what she was feeling. Should he be reading this? Should he be privy to the thoughts and emotions that she was writing to no one in particular? He vowed to shut everything down after he read the most recent post and then go home to sleep.

"13 September So, I realized how depressing that last post really must sound when I reread it today. Anniversaries can be so depressing.

"Today was my first day of classes this semester. I didn’t get to take any last year due to the Dad thing, but after working all last year and keeping the job I have now, I’m able to pay for it all myself instead of putting that extra burden on my parents. I’m so excited!! I talked to my counselor today and because I killed myself those first two years, I’m actually well into my Junior credits even though I’m just starting my Junior year. Yes!” Will smiled, he knew the feeling.

"While l was out running yesterday, I came up over this hill just as the sun was rising. When I left, the sky had been all purple and gray after the rain yesterday. The air was like Heaven to breathe and I felt like I was gliding as I ran down this little dirt road. I like to run that road because of its little hills and curves; it looks different every time I go there. I got a little farther than usual before the sun finally came up since it’s getting to be fall and everything. Anyway, as I came up over this little hill, the sun peeked out from behind the mountain and ignited the leftover rain clouds. They were golden and pink and orange. I picked my favorite one and pictured my Mom peeking out from behind it winking at me with her sideways, dimpled grin. I’ll never stop running if it means I get to have moments like that."

Will sat in awe realizing for the first time that he had been smiling the whole time. What a beautiful person, he thought. She’s so real, but she gushes about things she’s really passionate about. I think I might like to read about her again, sometime. How can I…? Will made a couple of clicks and sent the link to her page to himself in an email that he could check later on.

The walk home seemed much shorter than usual as he pictured the sunrise in his mind. He had seen many sunrises on his own runs and they were always amazing. That God would give us such a peek into Heaven was an amazing gift, he had always thought.

In a couple of days’ time, Will found himself back in the computer lab programming the next part of his assignment. His mind wandered to the mystery girl and her morning runs. In fact, he had not been able to get her out of his mind for the past couple of days. He had even dreamed about a beautiful girl running with long, flowing hair flying behind her. He wanted desperately to find her page in his email and read about her some more, but he knew his assignment would suffer if he tried to split his attention. He made himself finish the programming before peeking in on his friendly stranger’s thoughts. Never had an assignment gotten done so quickly!

After a click here and there, Rapunzel’s page came up once again. The background had changed to a landscape view of a beautiful sunrise. The pink and gold clouds repeated themselves down the page as he scrolled down to check the posts that he had missed.

She had not missed a day of writing, while Will had. He leaned his chin on his hand as he eagerly read.

“14 September Daddy’s doing well today. He went golfing with his buddy, Earl. Earl and Daddy have been more brothers than friends since I can remember. He introduced my Mom and Dad, actually. I like Earl; he has always been there for my Dad. He has a son he’s determined I should marry, but I like him anyway.

"I have a hard time imagining what it would be like to be married. I feel like I am married to my family. Mom (Alice) doesn’t always get out of bed in the morning in time for Daddy’s appointments, so I usually take him. She deals by buying junk food and literally sits on the couch watching TV and eating bon bons. Dad says to give her time and that she’ll come to terms with it all someday. Sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to be depressed. What good would that do me? I have too much to do and Daddy needs someone to drive him around. Plus, Billy and Zach need rides to school and stuff. Mom actually did that once this week, so maybe she will get better. Sometimes she just rides with me and that’s better than sitting at home, I guess. I never go anywhere just for me."

"My stalker wrote me another email and they deleted it. Nobody has figured out how he keeps finding me and, I thought I’d never say this, but I’m glad my parents delete the emails before I see them. They save copies of them if we ever figure out who the sicko is. That’s why this blog is top secret. While I need to express myself, it would be horrible if he found out about it somehow. I think I’ve done enough, I guess I can only hope."

Will sat up in his chair. That is something he could help her with. He would be able to program around things so that she could appear anonymous while using her home computer. How could he tell her without coming off as a stalker himself?

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"15 September Little Zachy broke his nose today! He was at preschool and he tripped on a toy on the floor and dove face first onto the corner of a little table. He looks so pitiful with the splint and tape all over his cute little face. The amazing thing is that it seems to have pulled Mom out of her funk. Who knows if it will last, but she actually went to get him and got him some ice cream on the way home from the doctor. That’s a pretty big deal for someone who has held the couch down for months. (See why this blog has to be top secret?) She even baked his favorite dessert and did dinner all on her own today! I’m excited that this may be the turning point for her. Not that I mind doing a lot of it, but it would be nice to just be me.
“Speaking of just being me, an equally anonymous friend that I’ll call A, keeps trying to get me to go out with this new guy in her Biology class. The last date she set me up on was a complete disaster, so forgive me if I’m not all that eager to try again. I’ll go because she’s so excited about it, but I’m not promising anything. Wow, I can’t believe I’m typing about that. I guess the lack in the comments department has made me braver! I think I actually have succeeded in being anonymous.
“I found the most beautiful song the other day. Usually I just sing the songs I find and save them on my computer so I can redo them a hundred times and just enjoy them. So, keeping in mind that I am an amateur that just really loves to sing, I just had to put this up because the words speak right to me.”

Her words were followed by a link that read: “Baby Girl.” Will popped the ear phone jack out of is iPod and clicked it into the slot on the campus computer. He clicked on the link strangely excited to hear Rapunzel’s voice. The tones that came through the cord and into his ears took his breath from him. It started on a strong, high note and continued on with a keyboard piano playing in the background. It was a song about being Daddy’s little girl and never being anybody else’s baby. Her passionate voice revealed her longing to find a love of her own, while still remaining loyal to her father. Will would have loved to have a strong voice like hers in his garage band in high school. She sounded amazing. His piano keyboarding skills couldn’t touch her obvious natural talent.
Accessing his private storage account, Will easily found the program he was looking for. In order for her to access it, he’d have to put it up on the web. The articles he read about the Napster swam through his mind as he decided what to do with the program he’d worked so hard to write. It was an identity protection program that, while running, would hide a person’s IP address by making it appear as a different number each time it was looked up. In some ways, it was illegal, but he envisioned its use for people just like Rapunzel who had online stalkers. It was kind of like a witness relocation program to allow people to hide from online predators.
Swallowing the thought that he might be giving away a goldmine, he had to reach out to her and help her if he could. He clicked on the comments section of her blog and began typing. After several false starts, he wrote what came to him, keeping it real and honest.

“Rapunzel, I stumbled on your blog the other day and I hope you don’t mind my reading thoughts you may never have meant to be read. I am drawn to your spirited way of writing and ‘dealing’. And your voice, it’s… well, I don’t have just the right word to describe the way your song made me feel. Amazing. Please forgive me for intruding on your most personal thoughts and please don’t stop on account of me. In fact, if I make you uncomfortable, you give the word and I will never click near here again. The reason I even got up the guts to write to you is that I can help you keep yourself safe from stalkers, the online variety anyway. I am just a guy studying Computer Science at a Rocky Mountain university and I wrote a program that can make your computer signature appear different every time you use it. I made a special page on my webpage that will allow you to download the program. As it installs, it will walk you through what to do, but if you have questions, email me and I’ll help any way I can. By the way, Hotmail offers great free email addresses, in order to stay anonymous to me, too. All I ask is that you don’t share the program with anyone else until my patent comes through.  No, I’m not sure it’s that good, but it will help.
You have been the bright spot in my week this week and I am at your service.
Your humble servant,
W

Will must have read the post 5 times before he finally sent it with a little prayer that she would not reject his help. As soon as he clicked Send, regret flip flopped through his mind back and forth with hope. What was done was done and he left the computer lab that day fully expecting never to hear from or read about Rapunzel ever again.
The next day, getting his big assignment in on time, which for Will meant by the skin of his teeth, felt really good. He was walking on air as he stopped by the library computer lab to check his email. One from his Mom and about 7 spam messages. As he clicked the spam to the trash, he stopped, mid-click over an email from thankyou@hotmail.com with a subject line that read, “Anti-stalker program.” Will’s heart skipped as he clicked it open and read a message from his fairytale blogger.

“Dear W,
“Thank you for your concerned email. I can’t say I wasn’t nervous at first that someone out there was actually reading what I wrote. Thank you for your kind words and you are, of course, welcome to keep reading if you like.
“I showed the website to my Dad. I hope you don’t mind that I made it seem like something I just found. ;) Your website is so professional! He said it looked good and I’m actually writing from home this time! Thanks so much! You’re a Prince! 
Yours Truly,
Rapunzel

Will grinned, lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching back. Good deed, good karma. There was a link at the end of her email to her blog and he didn’t even think twice.

“16 September You know that scene in Aladdin when he’s fighting the evil wizard Jafar? Jafar has got Jasmine trapped inside an hourglass with sand rushing in. She can see out and everyone can see her, but she is trapped, separated from the world by a layer of glass. The suffocating sand is rushing around her and she can’t do anything. Then, the Princely Aladdin smashes the walls around her and pulls her gasping from the sand. Safe in his arms, she is safe in the knowledge of who he is and what he has done for her. Though I don’t know who you are, I am much safer after what you have done for me.”

Will blinked. He felt his cheeks get warm and he glanced around the lab to see if anyone had noticed him blushing. Big guys of the six foot 2 variety don’t usually blush, especially when compared to cartoon characters. He cleared his throat and tried to decide what to do. He couldn’t just reply with a lame “you’re welcome” after a thanks like that. Words are not always strengths for computer guys, but Will was not an average computer guy. After all, he was wrapped up in the blog of someone he’d never met before in an emotional way he’d never experienced before. He cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath and began typing.

Once upon a time, there was this average guy named Will. One day he was walking through the forest when he came upon a tall tower. He heard the most angelic voice emanating from the tower that he had ever heard. Anyone who could be imprisoned like that and still have something to sing about was very intriguing to him. Bill himself was the kind of guy who was good at fixing things for other people, without paying too much attention to himself. The voice in the tower made him feel like he had something to fight for.

Will couldn’t go on. This was all so surreal and personal and he felt strange typing things he would never say to a real person. But this real person was different than any other human being he knew. She was real at the same time as being poetic and she brought that out in him, too.

The story doesn’t end here, it is just beginning. As the woman behind the voice used her words to open the curtains on the window of her soul, they formed a lifeline stretching down and around the tower toward Will. He, in turn reached upwards to her and they formed a connection. The nature of the connection remains to be seen, but at that moment, in that forest, it was what they both needed.

Will quickly hit Send and uploaded his parable to her comments section before he chickened out. It was kind of a rush to be so completely honest and to express himself in such a freeing, articulate way. His conscience whispered, would you be able to say these things to the girl if she were right here standing in front of you? I would want to, he pondered back. If I had the guts and could come up with the words on the fly, I would love to make her feel as I hope these words I have sent to her make her feel.

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As the days went on, they continued their conversation through her blogging and his replying. No one ever bothered them or interjected their own words. They were free to communicate and reflect and share thoughts and feelings.

Rapunzel: I am trapped at home. I can’t go away for school because I can barely afford the classes on my own, let alone food and housing. My Dad needs me here. Mom is getting more reliable these days, but there are still days that she depends on me to get things taken care of. I am trapped in a tower with only a window and no stairs. I can see what I want, to go to school, to learn, to live on my own, but I have no way of getting there.

William: I wish I could come in riding on my noble steed, let’s call him “Beat up Volkswagen.” I’d take you away from there and you could come live in the building across the parking lot from me. We could go on dates and eat greasy food and have fun together. Sing me another song, I love to hear your voice!

She would send him songs saved in her archives of years of recording herself singing other people’s songs. Depending on her mood, she would send him silly, twangy country songs that made them both laugh or other times slow, beautiful ballads that not only showcased her lilting voice, but also her heart and her truest feelings. Will downloaded her songs onto his iPod and listened to them often.
As the months passed and the time for finals approached, their posts grew farther apart. They centered more on the mundane subjects they were studying and were rife with excuses for not writing more often. The summer was no better as they both worked hard to earn money for the next semester. Then something magical happened.
Will was driving his beat up Volkswagen to work one afternoon and the radio station he was listening to began playing a very familiar tune with a very familiar voice singing it. He could hardly believe his ears as Rapunzel’s voice came to him over the air waves. He was so excited he didn’t know what to do! He saw a phone booth and pulled over erratically to look up the address of the radio station. It was in the business park near his job, and he could hardly contain himself as he pulled into the parking lot just beyond the one for his job and swung open the glass door with the station’s call letters emblazoned on it.
“I know I’m gonna sound a little crazy,” he said breathlessly to the manicured woman behind the desk, “but I gotta know who sings that song!”
“Excuse me?” the heavily made up girl asked slowly.
“You just played a song. I’ve heard it before, but I don’t know who it’s sung by. I’m sorry if I’m being a pest, I just have to know. Please?”
“Here,” she thrust a Xeroxed list at him and went back to her typing. It was a list of songs to be played that day. Next to the title of the song, Baby Girl was written Guest Artist.
“I’m sorry, ma’am? The song I was wondering about, it just says Guest Artist. Do you know who it was?”
“Some chick came in and recorded it last week. She never picked up her check though. I’m still waiting for her to come in.”
“Last week? She lives here in town?”
“If you can call Salt Lake a town, then yeah, she lives here.”
Staggered by the thought that his Rapunzel could walk in at any moment to pick up a paycheck, he rubbed his head with his left hand and stared at the song printed on the paper in his right. He turned to leave and didn’t realize until 20 minutes later when he was already sitting behind his desk that he had forgotten to ask the receptionist her name.
His blog entry that night was carefully thought out and had been rumbling around in his head all day at work.

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair! I was riding through the forest on my noble Volkswagen when your voice came to me as though from a dream. When I realized I was awake, and that you were coming from my radio speakers, I could hardly contain myself! When the radio station told me the song was done by a local artist, I nearly fell on the floor! Is there any way you would lend me your hair so I may climb up to meet you? Even if it’s as scary to you as it is to me, I beg you not to say no. Even if we’re not a perfect match physically, I wouldn’t give up these months of communication for all of Rumplestiltskin’s gold! You name the place and I’ll follow you there.”

There was no response that night or the next. Will’s will began to buckle as he began to lose hope of meeting his fairytale girl. Just then, the window opened and down came a long, woven braid. The message read:

“Meet me at the Jamba Juice near State Street and 53rd South Saturday night near 6:00. I actually do have long hair, but It doesn’t really matter where I’m from or what I’m like, I don’t know you and you don’t know me, so come on, let’s dance anyway!”

The reference to her profile was not lost on William and he realized she was as nervous about meeting in person as he was.
The night couldn’t come soon enough and William drove with the windows down hoping the movement of the air might convince the sweat not to threaten his composure. His characteristically short hair hadn’t needed more than a wash, but his clothes he had carefully chosen to present the best image of himself. A tie would have been false representation, but a buttoned shirt undone by one seemed to fit his style along with well-fitting jeans and gym shoes. His arm reached across the passenger seat to keep the vase of flowers from tipping whenever he turned. If things went well, they would be hers before the night was over.
He entered the Jamba Juice ten minutes after 6 and, hands in pockets, looked around. A trio of girls twittered to each other in the corner and he studied them wondering if one could be her. They looked too young and he turned his glance to the board of choices above the register. Something cold to sip might calm his nerves. He walked towards the counter, face uplifted to the lighted sign. As he approached the register and brought his gaze down, his eyes met hers and he knew. He just knew.
“It’s you;” he paused, “isn’t it?”
Her crystal blue eyes looked misty and far away as they gazed back at him. She nodded and without a word, went to the back and shed her black apron and hair net to return wearing a beautiful silk blouse and slim fitting jeans. Her wavy golden hair nearly reached her waist when freed from the poofy hair net. She grabbed two juices already prepared from the counter and followed his outstretched arm holding the door open for her into the glaring setting sun.
“Lets’ walk this way,” she said softly, offering him one of the juices.
They walked around the corner and through a back parking lot and up a grassy hill to a park. They began the path stealing glances at each other and sipping their juice.
“I’m Rebecca,” Rapunzel noted quietly.
“I’m William, but I go by Will.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Prince William,” Rebecca giggled infectiously.
Will chuckled as his right hand found her left and they continued walking down a shady path between the trees.