When an old woman looks down on her garden, which she has carefully cultivated, she only wants to see the blooming flora. The Gothel Witch was an old woman at her core, which was why she was distraught by trespassing. Her closest neighbour, a young Lord, was not so. When his pregnant wife relished a rapunzel lettuce in the Gothels garden he was caught between two classic fairytale plunders; denying the craving of a pregnant woman, or thieving from a known witch. Perhaps out of foolishness or perhaps out of love he opted for the latter. After three nights of ravishing the garden, the Gothel caught him and prepared to take his life. Perhaps out of cowardice or perhaps out of love he made one final desperate plea; In exchange for the mercy of the witch and his own throat he promised to forfeit his unborn child. Now, the Gothel witch had a deep sense of equivalent exchange and so she paused to consider before extracting her vengeance. The rapunzel in her garden she had nourished like her own child, and so the bargain seemed to be a fair one. “So be it,” she said, and so it was. Nine months after, despite the mothers tear, the Lords first child vanished into the arms of the Gothel witch forever. It was only many years later that the infant child’s fate could be known for sure. Perhaps out of revenge or perhaps out of love, the witch confined the child to a tower. This particular tower had several unique properties; firstly, it was so well concealed by forest that not even the keenest woodsman ran across it. Secondly, there was no door way to the tower, no stairs, and no entrance to speak of apart from a high window. To circumvent this inconvenience, the Gothel employed her magical prowess. She took the hair of her new daughter, who she named Rapunzel, and grew it to an unprecedented length. Then Rapunzel could lower it from the window an let the witch climb up to her. It was a clever ploy as it enabled the witch to come and go as she pleased, but kept Rapunzel trapped. After fifteen years the witch grew so confident with her scheme that she sometimes left the tower for long stretches of time. What she had not calculated for was the lost and confused prince that found it. From his makeshift camp in the woods he was enchanted by Rapunzels singing. He whiled away his hours carefully observing the comings and goings of the witch. After a week or so he grew bold. When he was reasonably sure the witch was away for a time he approached the tower and called “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair.” Now, Rapunzel was raised in isolation, but still she knew the voice was not that of the witch. Perhaps out of curiosity or perhaps out of love she let down the rope of her hair for the stranger beneath. When the prince reached the top he surveyed the inner workings of the tower and was even more smitten then before. He stayed for the next three nights, and took advantage of all he saw there. When Rapunzel had lowered him down on the final morning, he swore he would return and free her. While she was awaiting him the Gothel witch returned and was suspicious of her daughter. Because of this, she stayed for many months. She stayed for so long, in fact, that she witnessed her daughters gowns grow tight and her stomach grow round. In a fit of rage she procured Rapunzels confession of her liaison with the intruding prince. The witch then cut the braid from Rapunzels hair and banished her into the forest forever. Perhaps out of shame or perhaps out of love Rapunzel quietly went. The prince soon returned as he had promised, and called up to the tower. The witch herself lowered the remains of her daughters long hair for him. When he had ascended he came face to face with her. Furious as she was at the man who had violated her daughter, she pushed him backwards out of the window and he fell headlong to the ground. To his great fortune the witches own flora, planted at the base of the tower, broke his fall and spared him from death. But the bushels were of roses and their thorns gauged out his eyes. Though he was blinded he stood up. Perhaps out of rage or perhaps out of love he felt at the wall for the still lowered hair. When his hands found it he pulled with his whole strength until it came loose and coiled at his feet. The Gothel Witch shrieked and grasped at air in it’s wake, knowing that she was trapped in the tower forever. 
Friday, February 11, 2011
Out of Love
When an old woman looks down on her garden, which she has carefully cultivated, she only wants to see the blooming flora. The Gothel Witch was an old woman at her core, which was why she was distraught by trespassing. Her closest neighbour, a young Lord, was not so. When his pregnant wife relished a rapunzel lettuce in the Gothels garden he was caught between two classic fairytale plunders; denying the craving of a pregnant woman, or thieving from a known witch. Perhaps out of foolishness or perhaps out of love he opted for the latter. After three nights of ravishing the garden, the Gothel caught him and prepared to take his life. Perhaps out of cowardice or perhaps out of love he made one final desperate plea; In exchange for the mercy of the witch and his own throat he promised to forfeit his unborn child. Now, the Gothel witch had a deep sense of equivalent exchange and so she paused to consider before extracting her vengeance. The rapunzel in her garden she had nourished like her own child, and so the bargain seemed to be a fair one. “So be it,” she said, and so it was. Nine months after, despite the mothers tear, the Lords first child vanished into the arms of the Gothel witch forever. It was only many years later that the infant child’s fate could be known for sure. Perhaps out of revenge or perhaps out of love, the witch confined the child to a tower. This particular tower had several unique properties; firstly, it was so well concealed by forest that not even the keenest woodsman ran across it. Secondly, there was no door way to the tower, no stairs, and no entrance to speak of apart from a high window. To circumvent this inconvenience, the Gothel employed her magical prowess. She took the hair of her new daughter, who she named Rapunzel, and grew it to an unprecedented length. Then Rapunzel could lower it from the window an let the witch climb up to her. It was a clever ploy as it enabled the witch to come and go as she pleased, but kept Rapunzel trapped. After fifteen years the witch grew so confident with her scheme that she sometimes left the tower for long stretches of time. What she had not calculated for was the lost and confused prince that found it. From his makeshift camp in the woods he was enchanted by Rapunzels singing. He whiled away his hours carefully observing the comings and goings of the witch. After a week or so he grew bold. When he was reasonably sure the witch was away for a time he approached the tower and called “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair.” Now, Rapunzel was raised in isolation, but still she knew the voice was not that of the witch. Perhaps out of curiosity or perhaps out of love she let down the rope of her hair for the stranger beneath. When the prince reached the top he surveyed the inner workings of the tower and was even more smitten then before. He stayed for the next three nights, and took advantage of all he saw there. When Rapunzel had lowered him down on the final morning, he swore he would return and free her. While she was awaiting him the Gothel witch returned and was suspicious of her daughter. Because of this, she stayed for many months. She stayed for so long, in fact, that she witnessed her daughters gowns grow tight and her stomach grow round. In a fit of rage she procured Rapunzels confession of her liaison with the intruding prince. The witch then cut the braid from Rapunzels hair and banished her into the forest forever. Perhaps out of shame or perhaps out of love Rapunzel quietly went. The prince soon returned as he had promised, and called up to the tower. The witch herself lowered the remains of her daughters long hair for him. When he had ascended he came face to face with her. Furious as she was at the man who had violated her daughter, she pushed him backwards out of the window and he fell headlong to the ground. To his great fortune the witches own flora, planted at the base of the tower, broke his fall and spared him from death. But the bushels were of roses and their thorns gauged out his eyes. Though he was blinded he stood up. Perhaps out of rage or perhaps out of love he felt at the wall for the still lowered hair. When his hands found it he pulled with his whole strength until it came loose and coiled at his feet. The Gothel Witch shrieked and grasped at air in it’s wake, knowing that she was trapped in the tower forever. 
