The TRUE story of Rapunzel (Short Story)

At the top of the tower, something is waiting for a prince. I look up and yell.

“Rapunzel! Why don’t you let down those flowing locks of yours!”

Silence.

“Come on, darling. I know you’re up there!” I called.

No reply.

I sigh, unable to avoid the inevitable. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your flowing hair to me.”

“You said it!” came the shrieking reply. Moments later, a mass of golden curls were thrown out the window and hurled to the ground like three thousand angry spaghetti noodles.  

I stepped back a few paces as to not be hit with the heavy hair of my… beloved. Once the hair was settled, I stepped forward and twisted the thick curls around my hand, grabbing the end and looping it to make a spot for my foot. Once my body and grip was secure, I squinted up at the tall tower and yelled, “Ready!”

I braced myself as the hair became firm underneath my hand, and I was pulled two feet off the ground. I gritted my teeth and refused to look down as I was surged three, then five, then seven feet higher in the air.

When people ask a prince to rescue a damsel in distress from a super tall tower with only one window and no other ways of transportation, they should take into consideration that certain princes fear of heights. And suffocation. And seclusion. And the inability-to-tolerate-girl's-that-are-the-equivalent-to-lovesick-puppies.

I am such a prince, and I have experienced each and every one of those fears, and am just about to relive each and every one of them. Because as a prince we must conquer those fears! Never mind… How about we just don’t look down… I am almost to the top, looking for the face of the princess at the top of the tower. I get to the top, carefully climbing through the window.

“Where est O’ out O’ Thou O’ my princess O’?” I say trying to remember my proper princess speaking. I see the small frame of the princess in the corner looking out a small window.

“O’ it eat me!” That doesn’t sound right,“I mean- est I!” I should’ve paid more attention in my acent british shakespear class. I only took it, cause the ladies I believe call it ‘Classy”. The princess just sits there in the corner, looking out the window. I don’t think she can hear me. Too bad, I was doing so well on my british.

“Excuse-est me-est. I like to speak-est with-est you” I tap her shoulder, and she spins around.

“Wha???” She looks at me with confusion.

“Me-um, I wish-est to Speak-est with-o you-o.” I give her a friendly smile.

“Wha? One sec let me just…” She pulls some earbuds out of her ears. What in the world? “Thats better. Soooo… Carry on with wha-ever you were gonna tell me.” She folds her arms, impatiently looking at me.

“I--” She holds up a hand, stopping me.

“Dude, just cut to the chase.” She sits there, waiting for me to say something.  I clear my throat.

“Vous êtes ma fleur, et odeur bouse de vache.” I bow, and kiss her hand. She stares at me like I just grew another head.

“Odeur bouse de vache?” She questions me, raising her eyebrow.

“Oui!!!!!!!” I grin like an idiot, knowing that she is falling for me.  I said the perfect thing ever to her, she’s now going to have to marry me! Oh ya, this is my lucky day!!!  I watch her face turn into a scowl, then unfold her arms.  Here comes the hug!! Wait, why is she scowling at me. Thats when I feel her hand slap the left side of my face, and my whole face turns a bright cherry red within seconds. Yes, literally seconds. Wait… eh, what exactly did I say.