Tag: Fairytale

Categories
Fantasy-Sci-Fi

Fantastic Fairytales

Browse through your local bookstore and you’ll notice fairytale retellings are quite popular across multiple genres. These tales have remained a staple within the world of storytelling for centuries because of a few key components: they have a solid storyline that’s easy to follow and they always have some sort of moral lesson to be passed along.

So, how can you join in on the fun of creating something new, from something old? Here are a few tips for coming up with your own fairytale retelling that will keep your readers wanting more.

Do your research. Many tales have been passed down by word of mouth, traveling across national borders. Learn how your specific fairytale might differ from one culture to another. Did it originate in another culture having been adopted into our own, with elements within the story changed to fit our own world view? Get to know the tale from every angle, every source. The more you know about it, the more ideas you will have to pull from when you create your own unique spin.

Give it a good twist. Readers want a fresh story. Make it familiar enough that the reader can see the original tale, but different enough to keep them wanting more. A retelling is different from a remake—a remake is simply the same story retold. A retelling allows you, as the author, to push the boundaries and make something completely different from what has been done before.

Think theme. What draws the reader to the original story? What is the deeper theme? Cinderella is more than just a “rags to riches” story of a pretty girl who got her Prince. It’s a moral lesson to teach children to be kind (even when they don’t feel like it) without allowing selfish desires to win. Think about the deeper theme you want to convey, one that speaks above the surface of the original tale.

Ask the “what if”? How can you make the story different? Change the time period; change the setting (here’s your chance to really world build!); or change the genre in which it would normally fall. (A steampunk retelling of Rapunzel could really shake things up!) Just as you would ask the “what if” when creating a fiction story from scratch, allow the same pattern of questions to guide you as you reform the familiar fairytale into something exceptional.

Change the viewpoint. Tell the story from the viewpoint of the villain. What is his motivation and how is it different from the original hero? Make the villain human. Make the reader empathize, so they are actually rooting for the villain in a way they normally wouldn’t. Giving the reader access to the villain’s private thoughts can create tension as the story progresses. They know they should be on the side of the familiar hero or heroine, but are realizing a new hero is emerging within the villain himself.

Another viewpoint to utilize would be a minor character from the original tale. Give the character a backstory, complete with flaws. What would the Beauty and the Beast story be like if narrated entirely from the viewpoint of a selfish Mrs. Potts who would do anything to provide for her son, Chip? How would the characters come across differently? How would the theme(s) change?

Do a Crossover. Allow characters from one fairytale to visit another. How would Ariel react if she found a Beast living in the castle next door? Would Maleficent and Evil Queen get along if they were ever introduced? What would Red Riding Hood do if she stumbled upon Hansel and Gretel as they searched for their way home? Allowing one or more characters to leave their own universe and enter another is one more way to make your story unique and exciting for the reader.

Change the ending of the story. Think you know how the story ends? Maybe not! With a fresh perspective on theme, character motivation, and a new setting, the door is wide open to allow for a varied ending that will not only surprise the reader, but might fit better with the new twist you’ve given to this old tale.

No matter how you choose to retell your fairytale, remember to take it deeper than the original. Readers know the Disney version of these tales. What they want is to be captivated—where they can actually see themselves in the characters and themes that have existed for hundreds of years.

Laura L. Zimmerman is a homeschooling mama to three daughters and a doting wife to one husband. Besides writing, she is passionate about loving Jesus, singing, drinking coffee and anything Star Wars. You can connect with her through Facebook, Instagram @lauralzimmauthor, Twitter @lauralzimm and at her website Caffeinated Fiction.

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

MYOPIA – LILY 4 (Final Part)

Running from the beast had never been my plan. I had thought he would be my final stop, but was afraid of what he could do to me. After escaping his clutches, and with no money and a place to go, I was disgruntled. My only companion was my hand-crafted pouch, which housed my silver mirror, potions book, a gray blanket, a matchbox, and some herbs and fruits.

For weeks, I wandered aimlessly, and only relied on nature to keep me alive. I felt and looked filthy. In those weeks of wandering, a proper meal and bath became a luxury. I would have settled for a while in the village close to the beast’s fortress but fear of him coming to recapture his slave prevented me. At this point, my stupid search for a happy fairy tale ending, fizzled. I only wanted to return home.

On numerous occasions, I tried to retrace my steps but just couldn’t remember where I came from, what the name of my village was, or who my people were. In fact, it was hard for me to remember the past events in my life. My memories became foggy, faces and names disappeared from my thoughts. Oft times, some things would become familiar but that was it. After a while, I gave up on my quest to return to my village. I doubted I’d recognize my home even if I found it.

My amnesia could have occurred due to several reasons, but most likely the unstable instant hair-growth potion. I had not used all the right condiments for it and had substituted some unavailable ones. The potion had worn off quickly and left me with uneven waist-length hair. My memory loss could have also been caused by the numerous strange fruits and plants I lived on during my wandering weeks. Aside from the amnesia, I suffered other weird side effects. There were moments I looked almost three times my age. My skin would become wrinkly and pale, and my hair would be gray. Other times I’d look like a fresh teenager with cheerful cheeks and lively skin. Due to this ‘disease’ I became withdrawn and insecure.

Finally, I found a small settlement to call home. I sold potions to make ends meet and withdrew from the society. I became a highly skilled and sought-after potion-maker, and later created an elixir, which helped control my disease. It kept me young and beautiful, though its ingredients were rare and pricy.

My name soon became famous and attract wealthier, more desperate clients. Human leaders and creatures alike sought after my expertise. However, one visit from a king ended my career and changed my life forever.

He was the most handsome creature I had seen on two legs. He had wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes. His jaw handsomely jutted out and elevated his full heart-shaped lips. His face, carved by a healthy beard, thick eyebrows and an aristocratic nose balanced out his features. He was muscular, a head taller than me, and held an aura of warm sophistication. I was smitten.

When he visited me, his eyes were watery and sad. His Queen had just passed. She died during childbearing and his newborn daughter had survived but barely. He needed a potion to save his baby’s life and he was willing to pay any amount.

It took me a minute to realize. He was available!

I had only one request in exchange for the potion: his hand in marriage. He agreed without blinking. After our agreement, the procedures and wedding happened in the twinkle of an eye.

It was amazing. I had given up on my dream of marrying royalty and living happily ever after but now I was a queen. Of course, the King knew nothing about my past or my disease and I intended to keep it that way. He overcame his grief by pouring love on his daughter and parading me everywhere he went. I became his beautiful and talented trophy wife. At this point, I was dedicated to maintaining my ageless beauty and I needed the elixir to do so. Its ingredients were peculiar to its purpose so I had to attain them in secret. And so, I charmed a palace guard called Felix to do my bidding.

I mostly ignored the king’s daughter. She was quite pretty. She had jet black hair and her skin was so fair, almost white. She was a nice and naïve girl. Her whitish complexion irritated me and the fact that her name described her appearance annoyed me more. I secretly nicknamed her Pasty to mock her fair skin. I wasn’t interested in her well-being or how she lived her life.

The King, however, wanted me to be close to her. I found it unnecessary. I didn’t marry the king so I could be a mother-figure to the girl! On numerous occasions, he would send his daughter to me. I dreaded those awkward moments and tried to avoid them at all costs.

On one of my off days, as in the days where my body would deteriorate to an old woman’s, my guard was running late. He hadn’t returned with the ingredients for my elixir and I was aging too quickly. I was quite worried and afraid someone would find me, so I remained in my inner chambers throughout the day. The guard finally brought my goods and I quickly mixed the potion. I had to wait six more hours for the potion to be ready.

Now, I looked and felt 60 years older than my real age. My elixir was finally ready. On the first sip, my door opened to reveal my stepdaughter. She gasped as she noticed how old I looked. My hand shook and spilled some of my elixir on my vanity. I quickly downed it, and ordered her out.

I summoned her back after I regained my ageless appearance. “What did you see?!” I barked.

She pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You…you’re an old woman! An old witch who bewitched my father!”

I slapped her. “Wrong answer.” She gasped. “You saw nothing and you will say nothing, Child.”

She clutched her cheek, “You expect me to help you deceive my father, your husband.” She sobbed. “I can’t and I won’t.” She chanted.

I quickly became weary of her and commanded my guard to ‘dispose’ of her. He was shocked at my request but quietly obeyed, nonetheless.

I proceeded to clean up my spilled elixir. I couldn’t afford to allow the palace maids become suspicious as to why I had it lying around. As I wiped away, I noticed my silver mirror had a few drops on it. What caught my attention particularly was the manner the mirror absorbed the elixir. Soon after, nothing was left of it. I was astonished and continued to gaze curiously at the mirror. The mirror began to shake, a bright light shot out of it and then it sighed in relief.

“Free at last!” it exclaimed. I was not afraid, only inquisitive. My mirror could talk!

“Who are you?”

“Oh, thank you for releasing me from my silent prison. I am Miroir, the enchanted one who sees all. I was cursed by my former master and turned into a mare mirror. For liberating me, I surrender my services to you,” it said.

I nodded. This was a most welcome development.

Days passed and my guard failed to return from my bidding. At first, I wasn’t worried. The days turned to weeks and I became paranoid. I was aging again and feared I won’t be able to create another elixir before I was discovered.

“Miroir, show me Felix.” Miroir’s screen rippled for a moment and soon an image of Felix appeared. He was in the forest not too far from the castle. He was dead, and his body had begun to decay! That little minx had charmed him to killing himself! I was furious.

I growled. “Show me that ghastly stepdaughter of mine!”

An image of a moldy forest cottage appeared before me. Pasty stood outside the cottage, washing clothes. How pathetic. I didn’t know how and when I developed such a dark nature because all I could think about was ending her life. I was immensely upset she was still alive, and looked younger, and more beautiful than I could ever be.

As if possessed, I gathered every toxic, poisonous or foul substance in the castle and expertly mixed them together. At this point, I looked like a crocked old woman but I was on a mission to end Pasty. Knowing how naïve she was, I dipped juicy red apples into my concoction. The apples absorbed the poisonous substance without changing its outward appearance. I grabbed Miroir and headed to the forest.

By the time I arrived, Pasty was not alone. Seven dwarfs were having an early dinner with her. They seemed familiar to me. Two of them tinkled my memory the most; one with a big button and the other with round glasses wedged on his nose. I decided the stay the night and wait till they left.

The following morning, I was startled awake by a faint tune I’d heard before, but I couldn’t pinpoint where it came from.

“Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!”

The singing signified the dwarfs’ departure. I finally had Pasty to myself. I carried my basket of poisoned apples and approached the front door and knocked weakly. Pasty answered almost instantly. I had been afraid she’d recognize me but I had forgotten how naïve she was.

I chuckled. “All alone my dear?”

She nodded. “Why, yes I am but…”

I looked around. “The little men are not here?”

“No, they are not,” she said.

Good. “Would you like to purchase some juicy apples from a struggling poor old lady?” I lifted the basket to her face.

She sighed. “I would but I’m penniless.”

I smiled. “Well, for being honest, I’ll give you one free of charge.”

Her face brightened up, she cheerily thanked me and chose an apple. My eyes widened with expectation as she slowly brought the apple to her rosy lips. The world slowed down dramatically. The feeling of anticipation and eagerness felt so familiar, I couldn’t shake it off. For a second the past few years flashed before my eyes.

I remembered it all. My days with Lady Méchant, my night at the ball, the ghost town, the frog kissing, the dwarfs, the beast, everything! I remembered my ambition and wishes. I remembered who I was. I most definitely wasn’t a twisted witch trying to kill a 14-year-old girl for no tangible reason. The fairy tales I studied and the advice of my horoscope poured into my memory in that frozen second. I suddenly realized what was happening and who I was. This wasn’t the fairy tale I hoped to feature in and this wasn’t the role I wanted to play.

I cried but it was too late. “Snow White, no!”

Shame overwhelmed me. I had previously refused to call her name because of my bitterness, and anger. This was not me. The potions. Oh no.

The agonizingly slow second suddenly flew by and Snow White bit into the apple. She instantly dropped to the ground. Prying the poisoned piece from her mouth was pointless. The apple was so poisoned tasting its skin was as effective as eating it whole. I was already the villain in a fairytale. I had poisoned her and no matter what I said from now on, everyone would see me as Snow White’s stepmother, the ugly, old, wretched wicked witch.

I did the only thing which seemed sensible. I fled.

 

MYOPIA is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/woods-autumn-woman-girl-meeting-1524606/

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

PROVIDENCE – LILY 3

I couldn’t believe it! The stupid frog refused to become a prince for me. Moving on, I decided to review my list again.

Lily’s potential routes to happiness

  1. Cinderella
  2. Sleeping Beauty
  3. Rapunzel
  4. Little Mermaid
  5. Beauty and the Beast
  6. Princess and the Frog
  7. Snow White
  8. Frozen

 

The opportunities I had left were simple. Of course, meeting a beast was unpleasant but surely not as unpleasant as kissing frogs. I also decided to take stock of my adventures so far and try to pin point the reason for my failures. I looked through each fairytale on my list and summarized each ordeal. I read and compared my summaries to a horoscope I acquired when I was in my ‘Cinderella phase.’ I realized I had been going through my list in the wrong way.

“Let life take its course. Relax. You will reach your destiny. Be warned, wishes are fickle beings who obey no man.”

This was what my horoscope said about me. At the time, I was strapped for cash and could not afford a detailed explanation from a fortuneteller. What I paid for was the basic instruction all people who shared my birth month got.

When I first read it, I thought it was all vague nonsense and I continued with the quest of becoming Cinderella. After that plan crashed, I got a new interpretation to the horoscope. I understood, ‘Let life take its course’ as I should assist my life to reach my destiny, grab the bull by its horn, steer my own wagon, and all. That interpretation was now stupid but back then it made perfect sense. I had believed the natural course of my life was to search for my happily ever after, looking for opportunities for a fairytale ending. With that mindset, I had kissed numerous frogs and contacted disgusting diseases!

Now I decided to interpret the horoscope for what it truly was. I would let providence take its place in my life. Go with the flow and all that. My initial idea had been to look for some dwarves and befriend them or find an empty tower and wait for a prince to notice me. Instead of all that, I began to wander about. I went wherever my feet led me.

The first few months after my transformation were uneventful, in the sense that I didn’t met and marry a handsome prince. I, however, busied myself by collecting knowledge and relics from the towns, villages, and kingdoms I passed through. My collection consisted of a very beautiful silver hand-mirror, a book filled with recipes to produce potions for all kinds of things from instant hair growth to dwarf-repellant, a fancy hourglass, and a journal.

My new look on life kept me constantly positive. I couldn’t shake the feeling things were about to change for the best. On a whim, I decided to choose a random recipe from my book and create. The recipe I got was for a laughing potion which required basic ingredients. It included a feather from a sparrow’s left wing, a freshly bloomed hibiscus, slime from a frog’s back, a sprig of parsley, the fin of tilapia, and salt. I decided to set up camp in a forest nearby, as the forest had all the ingredients I needed.

I successfully acquired all for my recipe, and brewed a healthy portion of the laughing potion. I couldn’t know if it was successful unless I tried it on a person. I decided to then sell it to anyone who would tolerate me. This did not, however, happen.

On my way back to the neighboring village I got caught in a net trap. Who could have placed a trap so close to a human settlement? I feared for my soul. I inspected the rope used to make the trap. It wasn’t the kind of rope used to capture wild animals. It was not as rough or strong. It was the kind used by knights to tie up prisoners. This meant one thing. I had fallen into a trap set by cannibals.

I screamed for help but knew it was futile. It was midday; the markets would be filled with busy buyers and sellers. My frantic cries were drowned out by the bustling hollers of happy traders and shoppers. I wouldn’t be missed. No one knew me in this village. My only hope of survival was to be noticed by a wanderer. It was a fat chance. All I could do was to wait. I tried to make myself comfortable but it was pointless. I hung from a tree in a stinky net.

I ended up waiting about six or seven hours; it was hard to tell. My neck felt stiff and my back hurt. I had tried to while away time by falling asleep but I couldn’t. I was continuously visited my curious forest critter, squirrels to be precise. It was annoying. I was lucky I wasn’t visited by any snakes.

As the sun began to set, fear sank into me. My captor would soon come for me. I broke into tears of helplessness. My wails became louder when I heard rough footsteps from afar. My captor was coming to claim his bounty. The footsteps were soon accompanied by gruff harmonious voices. Cannibal feast songs, maybe? I strained my ears to understand what they were chanting.

“Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!

It’s home from work we go!”

That was the chorus of workers heading home. I was saved! Tears flowed freely as I shouted for help. My cries weren’t heard immediately. I spent about five agonizing minutes screaming. The singing stopped and I sighed. After a moment of curious and confused murmurs, seven men appeared from behind the tall trees. The men weren’t what I expected. Maybe I was really high up in the air or the evening light was obstructing my vision or the forest trees were too tall but these men were short.

“Dwarfs! You’re all dwarves!” I cried. My Snow-White fairytale had come to save me and I couldn’t be happier.

“Of course, we are!” growled one of them. They all had round button noses but he had the biggest nose. They seemed offended by my observation. I quickly apologized and begged them to help me out.

Big-nose scoffed. “And why should we help a dwarfist like you?!”

I scrunched my nose. “What is a dwarfist?”

“A dwarfist is a person who disseminates-uh-I mean discriminates against dwarfs,” said a dwarf with round glasses wedged on his nose. It was the silliest term I had ever heard but I kept that observation to myself.

“I promise, I am not a dwarfist. I am only a damsel in distress!”

“And we are simple workers returning home. Good bye!” Big-nose scoffed and stormed off. The other dwarfs followed him.

“Wait! You can’t leave me like this, please. I’m hungry and achy. I don’t want my captor to find me here!” I begged.

“You’re out of luck, young lady. These ropes belong to a fierce man-like beast and only a fool would rescue you. You’re on your own!” The dwarf with glasses (‘four-eyes’ is what I nicknamed him) said.

“The dwarfs I’ve read about are more caring than you bunch…but if a man-like beast is coming for me, I don’t need your help anymore. You can leave me here!” I said.

“Crazy dwarfist!” muttered big-nose.

Four-eyes shrugged. “Uh- well, suit yourself.” He seemed astonished but left with the others.

A man-like beast! This was amazing. I figured the whole Snow White approach was a little far-fetched for me. Finding dwarfs proved to be easy but getting an evil stepmother queen/witch who was obsessed with beauty seemed like a lot of work. If my captor truly was a man-like beast, I could go through the Beauty and the Beast route easily!

So, I shifted about in my net and waited patiently for my captor. I didn’t wait long. The forest trees began to shake, birds flew from their nest in fear as growls sliced through the normal nighttime sounds. The beast approached.

I giggled in fear and excitement. It felt like I was walking up the stairs to the ballroom again. Butterflies went rampant in my stomach and I forgot all about my discomfort. The silhouette of a bear, standing tall on curved hind legs with a wide head and chest, pointed ears and slim waist, stood before me. He lifted a lantern up and growled when saw my face. He raised his gigantic paw which cushioned long sharp claws and slashed it in my direction. I squeezed my eyes shut in fear he’d strike me. Instead I landed on the ground in a loud thud! He had broken the net with only his claws. The pain of the fall was a welcome feeling. It helped wake up my stiff limps. I sighed and stretched on the ground.

“Get up. Follow me. Don’t run.” His voice was cold and sounded like a never-ending growl. “I’ll catch you. Stay quiet.”

I couldn’t see details of his face but some of his features couldn’t be concealed by combined dim light of his lantern and the moon. He was covered in long curly fur and had two sharp incisors sticking out of his mouth and stretching down to his jaw. His nose looked permanently flared and had rather distracting hair sticking out of it. He really was an ugly fierce-looking beast.

“Hurry up. Don’t stare!” He stormed away.

I scurried to gather my belongings: the laughing potion, some leftover ingredients, my trusty book of potions, silver mirror, a matchbox, a tiny pot and spatula. His steps were long and large. I had to run to keep up with him.

He didn’t talk much but I tried to start a conversation with him, nonetheless.

“What is your name? My name is Lily.”

Silence.

“Do you live here in the forest?”

No reply.

“Can I quickly return to the inn where I stay and grab the rest of my belongings?”

“No.”

“Why not?! I hope you have suitable things for me. I don’t even have a lot actually.”

The beast abruptly stopped and turned to face me. “You are not a guest. You are a slave. I am your captor and your owner. Now be quiet!”

“Rude!” I muttered.

I, however, remained quiet after that. I didn’t want to annoy my future husband. After all, I wanted him to fall in love with me. It was quite a long walk to the beast’s fortress.

I couldn’t make out the details of the fortress but it was a grave-looking gothic castle. It exuded intimidation and fear. I couldn’t help but feel like I was orchestrating a horrific death for myself. He had called me a slave which was quite scary. The inner castle was dimly lit but it was bright enough for me to see clearly. The beast led me to an endless-looking spirally stairway. I gulped deeply.  Surely, Belle had not gone through this kind of emotional torture from her beast, had she?

“Starting tomorrow morning, you will look over my garden and keep my castle clean. You will speak when spoken to and ask no questions. You will not and cannot escape. You may ask for a favor, which I will grant based on how I feel, once a week.” The beast stated as we climbed the stairs. I was mute with fear.

“This will be your sleeping quarters. I will open the door every two days so you can do your duties. I will punish you by starving you if you break my rules. Questions?”

We had reached the top of the stairs and come to a sturdy-looking metal door. The beast unlocked the door and pushed me into a stale spacious room. It consisted of a single metal-framed bed with gray sheets, pillow and blanket, a bathtub and toilet hole, a kitchenette with two metal cupboards, a charcoal stove and a small window.

My mind buzzed with questions but my mouth refused to utter them. For a month, this was my life. The mute slave of a grumpy beast! I was half-dazed most of the time. I was reliving my days as a slave to my stepmother. The only difference was the beast wasn’t as malicious as Lady Méchant. Instead, he was icy and emotionless.

I finally snapped out of my month-long state of shock and decided to confront the beast. I had to get him out of his grumpy mood and get his romantic ‘lovey-dovey’ juices flowing! The beast’s favorite day of the week was Saturday so I cornered him.

He was in his study, staring out a painting of a family which consisted of a father, mother, and two sons. I assumed it was his family. I still did not know his name so I called him Beasty, which he hated.

“For this week, the favor I request is fully-detailed responses to anything I say or ask,” I said. Unlike his automatic response, a growl of dismissal, he turned to face me and nodded.

“What is your name and who are you?”

“Before I became this ghastly creature, my name was Adam. I was a pompous fool of a prince,” he stated without blinking.

“How did you transform to become a -uh… this form?”

“I was a spoilt brat. I provoked an evil witch and she cursed me to this horrid form. Before you ask, there is no cure or potion to reverse my state. This form is permanent.”

I gasped. “Surely, there must be a way. I’ve heard that true love’s kiss can break any curse.” Of course, I knew his story and I knew he could become a prince again. I was surprised he didn’t know his curse was reversible.

“Oh, that boat has already sailed. I’ve had my chance to be set free but I lost it.” He frowned.

“I’m confused but don’t worry I’m here to liberate you! We can fall in love and live happily together!” I cheered.

He laughed first then replied, “Sorry but you’re too late. I already fell in love with a young lady but it wasn’t reciprocated and I had to let her go. The hurt of my heartbreak caused me to beg the witch to make my condition permanent. If the kindest sweetest most caring woman in the world couldn’t bring herself to love me, then who could?!” He raised his voice, it sounded like a brewing storm.

“No no no! I am here for you! We can meet the witch together and beg her to redeem your human form. Please! I need this. You’re my ticket to a happily ever after, please!” I wailed.

For the first time, the beast exploded in anger. His hazel eyes became onyx, all his claws and teeth grew to double their size. His fur flared and stood straight off his skin. I shuddered in fear as he advanced toward me.

“You foolish girl!” He swung me over his shoulder and carried me all the way back to my stuffy hole in the tower.

He jammed the door and locked it, almost destroying the bolts that held it together. Immediately I could no longer hear his angry stomps, I rushed to the cupboard where I kept my belongings.

During my period of being mute, I had busied myself by practicing my potion-making. The castle was in, what I felt was, the heart of the forest. It attracted all manner of harmless creatures and harbored a variety of plants, both rare and common. I used whatever ingredients I could find, from it all, to make potions. I had sensed the beast would be difficult, so I had some resources stashed away. I searched my book of potions and glanced through the recipe for instant hair growth. Perfect! I had almost everything I needed to make a fairly-stable potion.

I worked swiftly and by late afternoon my potion was ready. It needed to settle for at least six hours but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted to escape as fast as possible. I was going to use the long hair the potion would give me, to form a ladder down the castle. It was an absurd idea but I felt it was my best option. I immediately downed the potion. According to my book, a fully-matured potion would take about an hour to activate. On an empty stomach, I doubted anything would happen soon. I could only pray the beast would not visit me with supper this night. Hopefully, he’d be too angry to come up.

The sun set and it was nighttime but nothing happened. I was afraid but relieved the beast had not come. Suddenly, my stomach began to quiver and my head ached. The potion was activating. I poured important belongings into a pouch I crafted, hung my hair on harness attached to the window and leaned out of it. As I watched my hair begin to grow and flow out the window of the 15-storey tower, I heard the faint familiar stomps and grunts of the monster. ‘No, not now. Please not now!’

I began to frantically yank my hair from its roots to make it grow faster as the beast sounded nearer. My metal door groaned slowly as the beast opened it, my hair was not yet as long as it needed to be for me to make a safe landing. The door fully opened to reveal the beast holding a tray of food.

“I came to apologize. You are a fool but my problems are not your doing.” His head was bowed and I whimpered. He looked up.

We glared at each other for a split second before he realized what I was doing and dropped the tray. He flared up like before and stormed toward me.

Panicked, I dug into my pouch and threw the first thing I touched at him. My old laughing potion. He was disgruntled a second and I used the opportunity to jump out the window. I gripped my hair for my dear life as I slid down the tower. The adrenaline rush shielded me from the pain my scalp underwent.

I was half way down when the beast roared. “You fool!”

It was gut-wrenching roar but its effect was demolished by the silly cackle that following it. “If you don’t get back here, I’ll stew your bones!” He giggled. He even wheezed. The more he tried to talk the more he laughed. The whole situation was ridiculous.

Immediately I hit the ground, I took a blade out of my pouch and messily chopped off my hair. The beast was paralyzed with laughter. By the time the potion wore off, I was already long gone.

 

 Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/woods-autumn-woman-girl-meeting-1524606/

PROVIDENCE is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog