Author: Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, Rapunzel.

For somebody who had spent her entire life on the top of a tower, this entire fiasco is nothing short of earth‑shattering. I only had a few dreams…a little grass beneath my feet and the freedom to walk away. Mother had never allowed me to set a foot outside this sad place. There was no one but occasional birds for company. She said she was afraid I would leave her. She was probably right.

I would often sit at the single open window, singing to myself. One day, when this man came calling and said, “Lady! You have an angel’s voice,” I wondered who this ‘Angel’ is. So, I asked him to come in…the usual way, of course—grab the hair; I pull up! He seemed impressed. He said he never saw a woman with such long hair and unbelievable upper‑arm strength.

Then, of course, I was curious what a ‘Woman’ is? At first, he was amused by my questions. And then, he told me about women and men…and babies that look like angels. And then, of course he told me what a ‘Baby’ is. Being stuck inside the tower forever, my knowledge of outside world is quite inadequate.

He was patient with me. He showed me how babies were made—seems like lots of jostling and biting is involved, but the nice kind that makes you look forward to making babies all the time.

He kept getting tangled up with my hair, which was kind of funny to see. He asked whether I would mind if he cut them short. I told him Mother might not appreciate having to wait outside until I grow them back. He was curious about her—what she did, where she went during the day and why she lived in a tower without stairs. He went snooping around the floor. I’m sure, he would have loved to check the lower floors too but there was no door.

He was rather suspicious of our broom that stood solemnly in a corner. He asked me what it was for. Seriously! Didn’t he know what brooms did? They flew, of course. How else did Mother manage to bring me up here in the first place before my hair grew long? And of course, they cleaned the floor if you asked nicely and swatted the occasional rats and spiders that infested the place. This one, however, was a piece of scrap now—too old and out of juice.

The way he looked at the cauldron, I wondered if he is expecting something to jump out at him. I told him it wasn’t happening. Mother quit all such endeavours ever since the last undead experiment—nothing freaks you out more than a half‑built, recently‑dead man running out of the cauldron, deluded that you are his still‑alive wife. The moaning, groping of hands, chasing around to declare undying love, the smell of hot flesh still fresh from the fire…He didn’t quit howling and asking for forgiveness until he timed out at dawn. Mother decided against ‘building’ anyone out of the cauldron after that.

Somehow, that lead him to believe that I was a ‘captive’ of a ‘witch’. I told him she was my Mother but, still, he insisted on leaving before she arrived. He also made me promise not to rat him out. In turn, I made him promise to return the next day and teach me more about other good stuff. So, he came.

For many days, we tried but I didn’t see any baby arrive. Realizing that he was getting the process wrong somehow, I suggested that we try throwing some herbs in the cauldron like Mother did the other day to create a baby. But he insisted to continue trying his way.

So, we kept up to it until the day Mother came home quite earlier than usual.

She soared in right through the open window on a cool broom with a pretty pink handle, a fitted double‑seater pink seat and pink dyed twigs at the other end. She was super‑excited when she called me to get on the backseat, so I could fly with her outside everyday.

Then, she saw him…and me…together…

Something snapped inside her. She started hollering about not trusting kids ever again; nowhere being safe enough to raise a pretty daughter; and of men who deceived innocent girls into giving up their chastity (whatever that means). And then, she started shouting swear words. Most didn’t any make sense, but when she called the prince a ‘son of a bitch’, he turned into one (at least that is what Mother says).

When Mother cooled down enough, I asked if I should turn him back into a human. But, apparently, swear‑magic cannot be undone. So, I just kept him as a pet. He is cuddly and sweet. Sometimes he sulks around the tower looking for exits but he is mostly quiet and only barks to intimidate the occasional princes that happen to visit.

Honestly, he is a much better company this way.

END

Author’s note: If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Karsten Würth on Unsplash

Author’s note: This is second installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, The Frog Prince. You can find the first installment here: Ugly: Part 1

“Oh! Thank you! I promise it will only be for a few days; until my ‘other arrangement’ returns.”

“That’s alright! You can stay there as long as I do.” With a wide smile, she opens her apron pocket, and I hop in to spend the rest of the day accompanying her while she works. She carries me around to show me her life as a maid in the royal household. It is something I had never experienced before—loads of hard work and open laughter.

I kind‑of like it.

She listens to me whine about my life as a toad and other mundane things. For breakfast and lunch, she takes me to the pond and doesn’t get disgusted when I eat flies—after all, I am a toad now. It tastes good, probably because of the company. I tell her about the lily pond from my ‘place’ and she gapes open‑mouthed. I tell her about the books I have read, and she listens with a sigh, for she never learnt her letters. Then, we talk about her home and beloved late parents. I itch to tell her about mine, not to brag but to share. But I hold back. It is nice to be liked for who I am…apart from a prince.

*****

Her quarter is small, but I feel welcomed.

I sleep on her pillow. She says she doesn’t use it. I know she’s lying because it smells like her—hard work—a foreign concept I am just beginning to understand. She’s a princess in her own stead, generous in sharing her blessings with a toad.

Maybe, I should have just stayed in her room right from the beginning. Then, the whole thing would have been fun rather than a torture. And she, surely, wouldn’t have tossed me out.

*****

A week has passed since I moved in with Maggie. The castle is preparing for a royal entourage from the neighbouring kingdom—my parents, of course. They haven’t announced my situation because, I guess, they assumed I would have announced myself a week ago after becoming fully functional human as per the plan. They will be crushed to find out that I didn’t make it. The local royal family is all aflutter as they plan to get one of the six princesses married to their neighbours’ crown prince. Fat chances!

But at least, I will be able to go back home. The thought should make me happy, but something feels off—going back home…without Maggie…

I turn to look at the only person who genuinely likes me for who I am.

Moonlight is falling on her hands that bear the calluses and burns from the royal kitchen. I will never be able to look down upon a maid again.

A few hours back, by the fireside, I had told her about my parentage and the curse. I had asked her to come with me. She had turned down the offer saying she wouldn’t be a tag‑along. “Once you become a human again, you will be ashamed to be associated with a maid.” With those words, she had closed the argument.

The words had wrapped themselves tightly around my throat making it difficult to breath. Can I ever be ashamed of her? The old prince who had laughed on the witch with a wart would surely be. Once I am a human, if I am ever a human again, will I become the same person? Will I be ashamed of my sole source of comfort?

I look at her with renewed sight. She isn’t pretty in the strict sense of the word…round face with freckles, pimples, large eyes, a wide smile and an ample girth. But she is the most beautiful woman in my world—the warm sunshine to my cloudy moods. The thought of leaving without her feels so wrong…as if I would never smile again.

Will she miss me too?

As if on the cue, she turns to my side, wide awake, looking at my face with tear‑filled eyes. I kiss her warm cheeks, and she smiles a sad smile. I hug her face with my tiny arms and drift away to sleep.

Morning has returned with her in my arms. She is now small and green—a rather pretty toad herself, looking a little baffled but not displeased. She probably understands what this change means.

I’m hoping, she’ll agree to marry me.

END

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales, is available for free download here: Link

Author’s note: This is first installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, The Frog Prince.

“Why the long face, handsome?”

My world is spinning in front of my eyes and Maggie is teasing me. I want to snarl in response, but she wears a genuine smile, as if she’s trying to cheer me up. Well, she doesn’t need to humour me. I’m a nobody…

Lower than a nobody—I’m a toad…

And it seems like I’m going to be one forever!

Why did I insult that witch? Loads of people have warts on their noses, but out of all those ugly faces, I had to pick a witch to call a toad! And now I’m one!

I should probably have begged her for mercy or something. But I was naive enough to believe that, as the crown prince, my command was enough to force her hand. So, I had just ordered her to take away the curse, expecting her to relent. And she did!

Her ‘cure’ was too simple—True Love’s first kiss. Since that was impossible, considering nobody loves toads, (except toads, of course) she gave another cure. I had to eat dinner with a princess from her plate and sleep in her bed for three nights without telling her (or anybody she knew) about my reality or the curse. Then, I would become myself again. Simple!

How stupid of me to believe her! She was simply trying to shake me off. Which princess would ever let a toad within a mile’s radius? I should have understood when the witch went missing the very next day. Then, I wouldn’t have embarked on this fool’s errand alone. I had begged my parents to let me travel alone in my carriage to this far‑away palace with only a carriage driver for company. The idea was that there were six pretty princesses around my age here and I believed that it would increase my chances several times.

*****

For three long months, I hid inside the castle garden pond, waiting for a chance to speak to one of them. All the while, I risked being eaten by this vile cat they own. And then, they had these goldfishes in the pond who would ask me who I was and then promptly forget—every three seconds!

I was beginning to wonder when this torture would end when, on a fateful day, a stork decided that I was a good change of taste. So, he gulped me in. As expected, he gagged on the taste and spat me out. Then, he had the audacity to curse me for ‘luring’ him into believing that I was a delicious frog! I should have felt insulted, I guess, but I was just too glad to be alive.

I made a deal with him. I offered him a month‑long free supply of frogs if he would draw one of those princesses close to the pond. So, finally, three days back, one of the pricesses was playing with a gold ball in the garden when he caught it in the air and dropped it in the pond. It worked. She started crying. I offered to bring it back if she would let me eat from her plate and sleep in her bed for three nights. She was distraught enough to promise me ‘anything in return’. So, I fished it out and became entitled to the royal treatment once again, briefly. I instantly sent away my carriage to give my parents the ‘good news’.

For three nights, I ate from the princess’s plate and slept in her bed as her eyes threw daggers at me—now that she had the gold ball, she wasn’t feeling so grateful anymore! I don’t think she would have gone through her promise if her father hadn’t insisted she kept her word.

The princess left the room at the crack of dawn and never returned until it was time for dinner when she was obliged to eat with me. So long, I used to like her from afar and hoped that on the dawn of the fourth day, once I become myself again, she would agree to marry me. But I’m not sure I like her anymore. It could be because she treats me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of her elegant shoes.

And today is the morning of the fourth day. Not even a single wart has disappeared from my body. And the princess has ordered me to get out of her castle, or she’d have toad’s legs for breakfast. Unfortunately, my carriage would take at least seven more days to return and, if I leave now, the carriage driver would never be able find me. So, here I sit, wondering what to do.

And Maggie here is trying to chat with me as if I’m her friend. She is a maid—the only woman in the castle who does not shriek at my sight, and hence, she has been managing the work in the princess’s room ever since I have shifted here. So, I guess, some respect is due. “I’m leaving. Thank you for the hospitality.”

She smiles understandingly, “The princess is not fond of toads, I guess. Look, if you still need a place to live in, my quarter is close by. It’s not as comfortable as the main castle, but it has enough room for you. And I can fix you a comfortable bed.”

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link