Mother Hulda (Part Three)

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I’m afraid that you won’t believe me, but I shall have to tell you anyway.

You’d probably find it easier to believe that 457 was a mermaid, or that the well was a giant jug of liquor, or that the moon is made of cheese before you believe that 457 didn’t die.

Because she didn’t.

Naturally, the ugly task master found that she was drowning and saved her, but I’m afraid that when he came back and saw her pale form sinking in the abyss, that he didn’t care at all.

So, 457 learned how to swim, then? I’m afraid not.

What happened is so unusual, that I thought about changing the story a little bit. Twisting reality with the lie of Queen Queensbury’s attractive son who decided to tour the dress factory and found the poor 457 could have been more appealing. But I’m afraid that the true story is much more…riveting. Well, I don’t know how to…well, enough of this prattle! 457 turned into a frog!

There’s no way around it! 457 was looking at herself in the water, wondering how it was that she could breathe under water and feel the sun and so forth, when it started raining! Imagine that! Raining 1000 feet into a well! But it was, and the unfortunate girl caught a glimpse of herself in a raindrop…what a fright she had! She had always been a little slimy and dirty, but she had NEVER been green! That was certainly a first. And her pale little nose now that once stuck up like a bent wire was just two holes now. And my! How bumpy she was. I’m afraid 457 spoiled it for you…but she wasn’t a frog, exactly…she was a toad!

Now, it wasn’t such a bad thing to be a toad, for 457. Firstly, because she didn’t know what a toad was, and secondly, because she could move around easier than when she had been all stiff and skinny.

Just as 457 was admiring her new appearance (and forgetting all about her mission of finding the thread), she heard a voice:

    Shake me, toad of the world above,

    Shake me of this heavy load.

    I know you’ve got many things to do,

  but my burden’s so heavy, I need a

    helper or two!

  TO BE CONTINUED…

And here I am again.

Don’t worry, you won’t be getting rid of me anytime soon.

You see, I, the author, do not consider myself a control freak. But  everything else does. For example, my computer. I tell it what to do, and it does it. That’s always the way we’ve always handled things. Spell-check thinks that it’s my boss, but I have some unexpected hum-dingers for it  (see the hyphenated word underlined in red above). The actresses (Sleeping Beauty Doll and Cinderella Doll) never deny that they are plopped in front of screen everyday and shot at, with a camera. Photo shoots are very common here. But the most rebellious of all my subjects, that I tyrannize and who I am tyrannized by, is this story.

Let me explain, and I’ll you’ll soon understand.

Part 1 of Ashenpuddle begins very well. Cinderella Doll explains in perfect past tense how her life as a princess began, and what terribly frightening things happened after that.

As things seem to be swimming along, Cinderella Doll suddenly decides to take an exotic vacation somewhere, just as we are approaching Part 2 of the story. “Alright,” I tell her, “We don’t need you, we’ll use the Sleeping Beauty Doll. And don’t think of coming back any time soon, because we don’t need you anyway. Hmmp!” That was taken care of. But as I was working on bending Part 2 to do my will, it twisted back to its own shape, and slapped me in the face.

“I want to be in present tense!” It said. What can I do when my story demands a change of tense? I must change it properly, isn’t that so? So that’s what I did, or what  I thought I did, and then, not even at Part 3 yet, the story rebels again.

“We can’t stay in present tense forever?” it whines.

I don’t listen to it anymore. “Alrighty!’ I say, “I’ll take over from here!”

Weren’t you warned that the author of this blog is a control freak? Maybe so, but this story needs to learn some manners.

So, without further ado, here is a tamed version of

Ashenpuddle: Escape from the Wicked Knight, Part 13

I don’t suppose anyone of us here can imagine being stuck in a cold blue box with a murderous witch-queen running about. For Daisy, however, imagination was currently unnecessary. It was real, the witch-queen-running-about sort of rot, and she was scared and crying. She was in such an emotional state that she didn’t even finish the last sentence in Ashenpuddle Part 12.

In the vast blue distance, Daisy heard the pattering of heels, and the intakes of breath. Surely the horrible woman was coming nearer, and she herself was stuck, trying to get a grip on her sensitive emotions.

“I can hear you, little girl,” a whisper bounced in the nothingness.

“No you can’t!” Ashenpuddle whimpered, “go away!”

“the more you talk the faster I can find you!”

“Then I won’t say anything!”

“Here I am!”

The white, icy woman now stood behind her, looking as if she was out of breath.

“I was, uh, just leaving,” Daisy stammered, getting up.

“Where will you go?” Snow White laughed,  “over there?” She gestured to the right of the empty blue space that was everywhere.

“Yes, actually.” Daisy started walking.

“You know that you can’t hide from me in this box, don’t you? There’s nowhere to hide, there aren’t even any hills.”

Once again, Daisy burst into sobs. “Whatever do you want with me?” she asked, “you used to be so nice to Charming and myself!’

“Tut, tut, you’re so unobservant!” Snow White exclaimed impatiently, “you know what I want, I want your heart!’

“But you can’t have it! You can’t, you can’t!” Daisy squeaked.

‘Well, you know what I was thinking? I was thinking that if I had your heart, I wouldn’t know what to do with it, so I thought that maybe I could banish you to a forest that nobody likes, and then my problems will be solved.”

“Why would you want to banish me? I’ve always been kind to you!” More tears.

“You’re pretty. The only woman I’ve seen that’s prettier than me, so I must be rid of you.”

“What…what about Grimhilde?!”

“I’ve never thought that crow was particularly attractive, but then everyone has their own opinions, of course.”

“No! She used to be evil, then she is locked up in the cage,and…”

“Grimmy used to be a very pretty girl. But after locking her up in a cage for a few years, that soon wore off. Besides, why did people think she was pretty when she did that crow thing? Honestly, bird hybrids give me the shudders.”

“But where am I?”

“In a box.”

“No, I mean, where am I? Have you seen the sky recently? Fish swimming about everywhere!”

“Really, how things have changed! I haven’t ventured out of doors for a few decades. My complexion can’t handle it, you realize.”

Daisy suddenly noticed that Snow White was so fair, even sunblock couldn’t keep her from crisping in window light. After thinking that, Daisy then proceeded to tell Snow White her whole life story, hoping that the selfish woman would give help. Snow White wasn’t a very good listener–as she spoke, the devious woman began to sing soprano scales and fly her hands everywhere so daintily.

When Daisy had finally finished, Snow White shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, you know that I am notorious for being a very wicked person, so I couldn’t care a prick about whatever you just said, even if I wanted to. I stopped listening somewhere after you burst into tears. Stop it now, no need for reenactments. Now I shall have to banish you, so I’ll call up to that terrible woodsman, and he’ll dump us out of here. Don’t cry anymore, I shan’t give you a Kleenex.”

As it happens, the owner, producer, photographer, etc., and I think that this an excellent way to end Part 13. There are a lot more exciting things about to happen in part 14 than Daisy robbing Snow White of Kleenex, or the woodsman dropping the two ladies out of the box onto the floor, so be sure to subscribe by email to stay tuned.

And there you have it.

Finis until later.

Ashenpuddle: Escape from the Wicked Knight ~Part 13~

Ashenpuddle ~Part 11~

ashenpuddle11pic1

 

Oh no.

Someone is coming.

I had better put these things away…

Never mind.

I guess I’ll be stuck in this prison for ever.

Now, I suppose, it is time to reflect upon my life.

***

***

I really couldn’t think of anything to write. I am constantly thinking of Charming, perhaps I should draw a picture of him…

ash113No, no, this won’t do. It doesn’t look a thing like him. His crown I’ve drawn like a spider atop his head!

My penmanship is not exactly perfect, but my art is much worse.

I was not exactly the favorite in our home, let’s say, so I was not taught the beautiful things that young ladies learn such as painting and singing. However, I do darn socks, sew frocks, and brush locks.

I am not worthy to be my husband’s wife. Oh poor Charming, what has happened to him?

ash112

Oh dear! What have I done? I have feebly attempted to draw myself into my notebook, and have added “plus wife.” That makes “Charming husband plus wife,” which sounds terribly dreadful, for it makes me sound charming! Oh dear! I am so ashamed! I am crying now.

What if Charming was to find this? Perhaps he is free and is coming here to rescue me! But no, how could he rescue me? How could he ever find me here? But just suppose that he did. What if he saw my journal that I hold, and saw these drawings, and thought (well, he is such a dear, he will understand) that I was presumptuously arrogant–

Someone has been watching me.

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