Friday, February 08, 2008

Longing to Let Down Her Hair

Created from a writing prompt. (Pick a fairy tale or cartoon character and write from their POV.)

It was lonely in the tower, with little more to do than count the indents in the mortar between the dull, grey stones. Many thought the flaxen locks were her pride, but Rapunzel had little choice in the style of her hair. It wasn’t like she could be visited by a celebrity stylist at the mercy of Oprah, who would bemoan the ragged, tangled split ends, and snip Rapunzel free of the pain in her neck and shoulders from the golden strands.

If only she could barter or beg a pair of shears, she could liberate herself and weave wheat-colored tapestries to cover the walls. Something new for her unchanging world. Her hands wringing and twitching in a useful, productive manner, instead of braiding and unbraiding the dry straw rooted in her scalp.

When the wind blew right, it carried static-wrapped teases of the world below. A world no proper young woman could be left to wander. A world of temptation, Rock & Roll, and princes with gyrating hips and Vegas kingdoms. Where short-haired women in low cut dresses smoked cigarettes and drank the Devil’s fire water.

If only Rapunzel had scissors, then she could find out what the fire water that Dame Gothel admonished really did when it got into a good girl’s blood.

No comments: