"*The Fairy Tales* Zelly the Queen" by Lauren Christine

Oh, yes. This is a fairy tale, and yes, you have heard it before. At least the version my parents would like you to hear. That is, my real parents. The ones who traded me for lettuce. I really should have heard feelings toward them, you know, not telling the real story so that everyone feels sooo sorry for them. So I’m going to tell it. But before I start, I have to straighten one thing out. Rapunzel is a type of lettuce. I am a girl. My parents were ‘just to over thrown with grief to give me a proper name’, (more like they were to lazy), so they just call me Rapunzel. My name (which they never bothered to find out) is Zelly.

So now that I am telling this, I am going to try to skip the parts you know, yes, not all of their version is false. The portion of the tale about mother wanting rapunzel leaves, and my father stealing it for her is true. (Amazing they are capable of truth isn’t it?) Since you know that, I won’t get into detail. Besides, I was to young to remember that anyway. I guess my side starts out with Grandmother. She is the one who is known as the ‘wicked witch’, but in fact, she was the nicest person I have ever known, and loved me like a daughter. She even raised me like a daughter, and it was only because she said it was respectful to my real mother that I called her ’Grandmother’. I thought that was ridiculous because she was more of my mother than my real one.

Contrary to popular belief, I was not imprisoned in the mansion we lived in, I was frequently told to visit my parents who lived down the road. I absolutely despised being forced to go to see them, my father drank, and my mother was constantly wailing about how evil Grandmother was. If you can imagine having your mother put down by someone who traded you for lettuce. It is simply not done and tolerated. I never protested at first, but after I got older I began to resent the fact. I started to correct them, and they just brushed me off. But I would not be brushed off that easily, and continued to press my points firmly. Since it was impossible that I could think for my self, much less form opinions, my brilliant parents decided that I was under a spell. After a while it was really clear to them that I was capable of making my own decisions, so then they decided that I was going to become a witch my self. I had no knowledge of this idea of theirs until one night when I was visiting my dear daddy tried to strangle me! How stupid did they get? Grandmother would have known any thing, and especially a death threat!!! She appeared just in time to save me. (No not in the middle of the room, at the front door, it was time for me to go home.) She whisked me away, and the obvious conclusion was that I could not go back to them.

I was not to leave the mansion or the grounds. Naturally I was thrilled. I loved the mansion, and would not rather be anywhere else. The villagers all thought I was strange, and stared at me because of my hair. It was incredibly long, past my feet, long enough to be doubled over six times and still reach my waist. It is a dark black with a blue hint to it. Most of then called me the ‘witches girl’. But, keeping me in the mansion was not enough to keep away my parents who had about as much sense as the ground on which I stand. Probably less. Anyway, they decided to break in and kidnap me. Yes, not too bright. Needless to say, their poorly put together plan failed.

So, we built the tower.

It was my idea, really, as I said, I didn’t want to live in the town which was the only other option. I liked to be alone. It gave me time to be just Zelly. It was nice to be me. The only problem was how grandmother would be able to visit me. I thought we should simply put a door in, but that was not good enough for Grandmother. She said if there was a door, every stupid who was in the woods and saw the tower would come in and bother me. I am very pretty, you know. Grandmother says she would not flatter me by saying other wise. So, she said she would use my hair to climb up. But, that was going to be very painful, very painful. I mean, Grandmother is no pixie, and if you can imagine all that weight on your scalp… well, I didn’t want to.

But as usual, Grandmother had a solution.

She said that it was fairy blood that made my hair grow so much, and it was fairy blood that would make it strong. So there we had it. A perfect solution, at first.

Grandmother came to visit me every day, and when she wasn’t there, I sang to keep myself occupied. I loved to sing more than anything, but I am not fooling my self. I’m no nightingale. And that’s an understatement. I may have fairy hair, but I don’t have a fairy voice, at least I don’t think I do, I have never heard a fairy sing before. Anyway, so there I was signing away having the time of my life and thinking that it couldn’t get much better, when that stupid prince came along and ruined everything.

Naturally I told Grandmother who naturally had a solution. Tomorrow she would come back with a rope and we would hide me while she played the part of a wicked witch and tells him that I have been cursed and would never return to the tower. I was supposed to be incognito for a while until he got over his distraught state and forgot all about me. It was perfect. But perfection is only a myth.

After she left with a promise to bring back the things she needed and shimmied down my braid, I settled down to paint. (A less disturbing pastime.) About five minuets, I heard a voice call again. I assumed that she had forgotten to tell me something, and so I tossed down my hair without glancing out the window. Unfortunately it was not Grandmother, it was Prince Not-So-Charming. I realized this by the time he had already clambered through the window.

I wanted him to go. He wanted me to marry him. I wanted nothing less. He wanted to save me. I wanted to know from what. He didn’t have an answer. I was starting to get annoyed. He wanted me to make a silk rope so that I could climb down into his arms tomorrow. I agreed to it so that he’d leave. He kissed my cheek before he left. I gagged.

The Stupid didn’t think to leave me silk to spin a rope with, and he never stopped to think that maybe I did not know how to spin, which was the case. It didn’t matter though, when Grandmother came tomorrow, I would have seen the last of him. It was a comforting thought I fell asleep to.

The next day Grandmother came before the sun came up. With her was a rope and some illusion powder. She sprinkled it over the rope and made it look like my hair. Then, she fastened it to the window frame and I hid under the bed. (The dust ruffle was to low for him to see me, but I could see out of it. ) By the time everything was finished, it was about noon. Now all we had to do was wait. Which we did not do for very long at all. Prince Not-So-Charming came after about five minuets. After he yelled for my hair and climbed up he was in for quite a surprise. He saw grandmother and immediately knew something was wrong, I will give him credit for that much at least. When grandmother told him the story we had planed, he scrambled away in his haste to get away from her and fell out of the tower. Well, we never meant for that to happen, but he landed in a bush and so he didn’t get hurt besides a broken arm. He immediately rode back to the palace to get his Calvary. In the process, his magician told him who my parents were, and so he saw it fitting that they should be the first to help me out of the tower while the Calvary fought off the witch. Naturally it would be the Calvary who fought, even if he hadn’t just fallen out of my tower, he wouldn’t have been able to do it.

In any case, when the magician lifted my parents up to the room they promptly told me that if I didn’t act relieved at being saved, and in my ’gratitude’ marry the oafish prince, they would burn Grandmothers mansion! They just wanted to be Duke and Duchess, so don’t believe they had my best interests at heart for one minuet. As I said, the floor is smarter than them, and probably nicer to. Well what choice did I have? I am a good actress, and well played my part.. The scene that followed was not worth recounting, so I won’t, since you know that part, or at least you know the drama of it.

Well, as I said, this is a fairy tale, but it is a true one, which makes all the difference. It may not be happily ever after, but I’m not dead yet. I still see Grandmother when my husband, Sir Stupid is on hunting trips, and she encouraged me to write this, so that I could set everything straight.

So that was it. They say things aren’t always what they seem, meaning that some things are, and some things aren’t.. But you should know better, you should know that things are nearly never what they seem, not just sometimes. And above all, I would like to remind you this:

Rapunzel is the name of lettuce.

Zelly is the name of a queen.

And fairy tales being never quite true, are never quite false either.