What's In a Name?

The story is a twist on the classic Grimm Brother's tale "Rumpelstiltskin".

What's In a Name?

 

            The wind was now becoming more fierce and abrupt as it reeled in a storm. The birds that rested on the branches took flight at the pressure of the first raindrop against their feathers. Mist hung in the air creating a damp feeling of condensation on human skin. Thin, limp material clung to the fragile body of a young woman hurrying back to her homely shack secluded in the grassy hills that surrounded the town. The hunter green dye used to make her cloak vibrant had become a poor excuse and faded due to the progression of age. The wind whipped through her hair twisting it into waves of auburn. Her silhouette blended in with the dismal, dark sky that swept over her. The heavy basket that lay in the crook of her arm was weighed down by potatoes and carrots picked from the vegetable garden which consistently bumped into her side; the result was a purple bruise. A chill ran up her spine right as she reached the door and could feel the emanating heat coming from the fire burning within. She swung the door open and then slammed it shut with a gust of air following her.

            “My dear, Isabella, have you not heard the warning gales whisper past your ears? The town is talking of there being a storm on its way. What on earth would have possessed you to remain in the garden for such a long time?” asked a man seated on a decaying chair at a wooden dinner table.

            “I had not anticipated on being gone for so long, but the earth has hardened ever since that frost came a week ago. It was difficult to release the carrots from their hold. I apologize for worrying you, Father, but all is well now and I can continue with the stew.” Isabella unpacked her pickings from the basket and began dicing them. “Father, I have hesitated to bring this up, but it’s been so long that I can wonder no more. When will you be meeting with the king like you had mentioned almost four months ago?”  

            “I planned on informing you during the course of our supper, but since it’s on your mind there is no use in postponing it any longer.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I received a letter a few weeks ago from one of the king’s knights. I am to attend the king’s court tomorrow in order to discuss plans for the town’s mill. If all goes well, I may be given the opportunity to control the shipment of wheat and barley between territories. The amount of payment in gold would be enough to have a healthy living. We would even be able to afford a cottage in the center of town. ” The knife stopped mid-air and Isabella stared at her father in amazement and disbelief. “Your beauty would surely capture every man’s attention and before long you’d find a husband on your arm.” At the mention of the word husband, Isabella drifted into the solitude of her own mind. She had no intension of marrying anyone other than her Wesley, who the king had sent off to aid the war in battle against their mortal enemy. Wesley had always spoken of returning for her, but the day had not yet arrived. Her bitter taste towards the king still remained and was unlikely to vanish until the day she would be put into the ground.

            “That is all very well as it should be.”

            “Why, my dear, you seem suddenly withdrawn, what is it?”

            “I am perfectly well and pleased with the arriving of this sudden news.” Isabella conjured the convincing lie despite herself and moved onto other discussions with her father. They ate a hearty meal and then clambered up onto the straw beds to get a good night's rest before the anticipated day arrived. That night, the wind rocked the foundations of the shack and the rain pounded on the roof mercilessly. Isabella’s father remained asleep, but her eyes suffered from insomnia as she stared up at the ceiling. The only word her mind would allow her to grasp a hold of was Wesley.

            The morning could not have come soon enough and with it the sound of a knock on the door. Isabella hurriedly dressed in order to greet her guest in appropriate attire. A knight of the king stood tall with the emblem of the kingdom worn proudly on his breastplate.

            “Good morning, fine sir. How may I attend to you?” Isabella’s voice was still scratchy from the tiresome night that had made her drowsy, but she tried to maintain some sense of formality in it yet.          

            “Good morning, young damsel. I am here to escort the man of the house to the castle.” 

            “I beg of you one moment while I go retrieve him.” She rushed over to her father’s bedside.

            “Father, you must get dressed quickly. The knight is here to escort you to your audience with the king!” She shook him roughly until he was finally aroused. He threw on his cleanest pair of clothes and left Isabella to take care of their home as she did everyday.

            The ride was not as time consuming on horseback as if it were walking, but for an older man, that did not make much of a difference when it was difficult and uncomfortable. When they reached the castle and he was brought before the king, his confidence slowly diminished by the king’s intimidation. They discussed the plans for the town’s mill, but the king ultimately seemed unimpressed. Isabella’s father, in response, attempted to make himself appear more important by boasting of his daughter: her beauty, melodious voice, and how hardworking she was.

            “My beautiful daughter could easily be able to take ordinary straw and spin it into strands of lustrous gold if she so desired.”

            “Could she now? If what you say is true I am very much inclined to observe it for myself. If I am pleased with what I see I will reward you for your compliance by funding your idea for my kingdom’s barley and wheat exports. However, if what you say is false then keep in mind the date of your execution so you can share it with those of importance to you. Guards, send for this man’s daughter at once.” The topic of Isabella was the only thing that seemed to spark an interest in the king, but, despite his boredom, he allowed her father to continue with his speech. “Now, carry on with your antics about the mill until the young lady arrives.” The man did continue with his antics, but with less enthusiasm. He stopped altogether when his daughter, now appearing in fresh, embroidered linen, stood elegantly before them.

            “Your majesty.” Isabella addressed the king with a curtsey. He released a hearty chuckle. She shot her father a look of question.

            “Your beauty is as radiant as the sun’s just as your father boasted. Will you sing for me?”

            “I do not wish to sing in front of an audience, but if that is your command my wishes are hardly applicable.” Nonetheless, the king nodded his head for her to sing. Isabella’s hatred grew, but she obeyed and opened her mouth releasing the rich vocals of a soprano. Her voice was trained, in tune, and on key. Its angelic sound brought the king to tears although not one did he shed in her presence.

            “Your voice: the sound of an angel’s and your beauty: divine. Your appeal thrives just like the gold you spin I imagine. Now, tell me child, what’s your name?”

            “Isabella Archer daughter of Miller.”

            “What a splendid name to suit your complexion. As for your other talent I would like to see it immediately. My servants shall bring you a spinning wheel and straw.”

            “Might I ask whatever for, your highness?”

            “Well, to spin the straw into gold of course!” The king let out another guffaw. Isabella shot an exasperated look at her father. That man could certainly boast upon the foundations of nothing.

            “I am afraid Isabella only has the ability when she is in secluded environments or cloisters,” her father tried.

            “So be it. I shall see the effects of her talent instead then. I will have my servants reserve a room filled with straw and a spinning wheel for her to work with. I will see to it that the door is locked so no one will disturb her until I come at dawn. If the straw has not magically transformed into a state of currency by the time I arrive, the consequences for you and your family are fatal.” Isabella and her father stood frozen and motionless. “You shall now be shown to the room, Ms. Archer. As for you,” the king said in reference to her father, “your dismissal of my court is entirely of your own devising. In any case, I shall retire for the evening. Old age certainly gets the best of one in the end.”

            Isabella was taken down several flights of stairs all the way to the second to last floor above the dungeon. She was dismissed before finding out if her father had left, but she didn’t really care for one way more than the other. After all, he did put their lives at stake for pride in his self image which would no longer exist since her failure was imminent. No ordinary person can turn straw into gold unless they are enchanted. This she was not. The room was average size and contained nothing more than the gray stones holding up the ceiling.  The only exception was the straw that covered every remaining surface and the spinning wheel propped in the center. The rain from the previous night had chilled the room and she could once again feel the condensation from mist on her skin making her feel uncomfortable and in a strange wa sticky. She immediately felt suffocated when she heard the click of the door locking her in. That was when the musty odor drifted past her nose and where it stayed for the remainder of the evening.

            There was nothing she could do to improve the situation so she sat on the ground and reminisced on past memories of her mother who had passed away during her childhood. She clenched her mother’s necklace which rested around her neck and tears sprang to her eyes. They dripped down her cheeks and she cried for her mother out of frustrated desperation. By now the night was upon her and she was heavily laden with dreariness. The blackness had swarmed around her and nipped at her nerves. Now, even if she had the ability, it was too dark to work. 

            “Sweet Isabella, wipe those tears away.

             There is no need to cry, at least not today,”  

a raspy voice whispered in her ear. She jumped up from her seat terrified and looked behind her, but there was no one there. Why should there have been? The king locked the door. Right as she had finished calming herself down the voice spoke again.

            “Perhaps you’d feel better if you saw my face.

Let’s shed some light in this place.”

 Candles set upon ledges in the wall, which had not been there before, glowed with a flame and illuminated the room. Directly in front of her there stood a short little man with a long curly white beard. His skin had been wrinkled from age and he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  

            “Your troubles are far too great for a young maiden, such as yourself, to handle,

But someone, such as me, can offer service an ample.

Let me reveal just what I can do.

Let me turn this straw into gold for you.

The only thing I require

Is something of your attire.

I’ll need something to remember you by

 For the next time that I hear you cry.”

            “Everything I have is of much importance to me, but since it is my life that I am to risk would this gold necklace that used to belong to my mother do?”

 “Oh, yes! I do enjoy the beauty of a necklace.

Hand it to me and the shine of gold you will see.”

She sadly took off the necklace and placed it in his weathered hand. He jumped upon the spinning wheel and started running the straw through. Before her eyes, she saw the straw turn into gold and although the lights had not dimmed darkness shrouded her vision and she fell fast asleep.

            Loud voices struck her consciousness and she became aware of sunlight resting on her face. She opened her eyes to see the king and his lords standing in the doorway chattering excitedly.

            “What happened?” Isabella whispered to herself. It was then the corner of her eye caught a sparkle. All the straw that had once been in the room was now gone and in its place were strands of gold. The king smiled at her.

            “Well done, child. I shall reward you with a feast and then afterwards I request another night of your cooperation.” Her heart sank in her chest. How much more could someone request of her? How would she survive another night? She followed the King to his dining hall where she remained that entire afternoon. Isabella became the highlight of the feast and everyone was speaking of her talent. The entire time she wondered how she had done it when she couldn’t even remember the previous night. Eventually, it was time for her to return to the seclusion of the moist room, but it was not the same room this time. This room was twice as large.

            The evening began as the previous one had with the click of the key locking her in and a musty odor settling in the air. She began feeling sorry for her father and how he couldn’t make life better for them no matter how hard he tried. He came up with many ways for the people of the kingdom to have a better living and the elders of the town had not allowed him to succeed any of them. Any opportunity he was presented with was ripped out from underneath his feet, including now where it would finally end. How can life be so cruel to people so undeserving of such nature? She twisted her father’s family ring around and round her finger until once again tears began to well up in her eyes. They dripped down her cheeks and she cried for her father and out of frustrated desperation. The lack of sleep from the past night weighed upon her and she had no will to even bother trying to spin the straw. Light grew from the darkness and the raspy voice could be heard once again.

            “From the looks of it your need is greater this time.

           The way the King uses you should be a crime.”

            “Who are you and how did you get in when the door was locked?” The little man stood before her once again. He was wearing her mother’s necklace proudly.

            “I am, but an enchanted little man put under a spell.

 Hopefully, for me, things will once again be well.

Until then, I am forced to rhyme

And appear at random when the sound of tears chime.

It seems, now, I’ve been given another task,

But as before there is something of you I ask.”

            “The only thing I have left to my name is my family’s ring passed down to me.”

            “That is something I would gladly receive

 And once again the gold will make your eyes disbelieve.”

She took the ring off of her finger and he slipped it onto his own. He jumped upon the spinning wheel and started running the straw through. She saw the straw turn into gold before her eyes and although the lights had not dimmed, darkness shrouded her vision and she fell fast asleep.

            The next morning, her eyes opened to see the king standing above her with an amused expression on his face. “Ms. Archer, I would like to introduce you to my son, Prince Phillip.” Isabella got to her feet and stared into the new face of royalty as the king left the room to find a servant to attend to his newly acquired gold.

            “Your highness.”  She curtsied.

            “It is a pleasure to finally meet Isabella: the damsel who can spin straw into gold. Your talent has surely captured the kingdom as well as my father.”

            “The pleasure is all mine.”

            “I assume you are starved after a night of hard labor. Would you join me as I head to the dining hall?”

            “If that is your command.”

            “Oh, it is not my command. It is my wish.”

            “Very well then.” Isabella took the prince’s arm and he escorted her to her second feast in her honor at the castle. There she again spent the rest of her afternoon where she ate, made light conversation with the prince and the other guests, listened to violins being played, and thought about when she would finally get to go home.

            “Isabella, my father would like you to stay one more night at the castle in order to confirm your ability and to prove you are not enchanted. He has one more room set aside for you. The number three is spoken of purely and you realize if you are enchanted it will be obvious by the lack of gold in the morning. The third time is a charm and I wish no harm to come of you. If you spin the third room of straw into gold by tomorrow, I will take you as my wife and queen.”

            “I don’t believe I have a choice in the matter. If I decline then you automatically assume I am an enchantress and therefore I must be executed. I shall stay one more night to satisfy the king’s desire.” The prince brought her to the third room. It was as large as a ballroom without the luxuries. 

            “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” The prince shut the door quietly and with a click the door was locked. She was beginning to feel like a prisoner. They treated her well during the day, but wouldn’t allow her a comfortable chamber during the night. She had returned to the leaky walls and musty odor. She was beginning to get used to them. This time there was nothing left for her. Hope had run its course. Even if a miracle did occur like the past two nights what would her life be like afterward? Her dear Wesley was the only one remaining for her to shed tears for. She hated to think of his fate and refused to say what she already knew. Her mind was forcing her to move on and get passed what once was, but she knew in her heart that she never could. Tonight’s tears were to be shed for Wesley. She would be forced to live a lonesome life of solitude just like her nights had been in the castle if her life was spared or forced to live a loveless future with the prince while she was confined to the prison cell of her thoughts. Her eyes were more than wet now. They were overflowing.

            “Goodness me, there is so much straw that I see.”

The room lit up and following the light for a third time was the little man.

 “Wipe away those tears. There is no need to fear.

Your good ol’ manikin is here, my dear.”

            “There is no use. There is too much straw and I have nothing left to offer you. It is my fate.”

            “There, there, you mustn’t give up yet.

We can figure this out I bet.

I’ll turn the straw into gold for the last time,

But in exchange your first born child shall be mine.”

            “I have no choice. I shall agree. My first born child will be yours.”

            “I have a lot of work that needs to be done. Go to sleep and when you wake up you can see all of the shimmering gold I’ve spun.”

Isabella put away from her mind the deal she had made and let her eyelids close.

            The sun’s rays reached for her skin to shake her awake with its warmth. Her eyes fluttered open and the gold surrounded her everywhere she looked. It filled the room completely. The prince burst in and swept her up.

            “You did it! I knew you were not enchanted! I have already arranged the wedding. The dressmaker is waiting inside your personal chamber for you so she can get your measurements for the wedding dress. Your servant will take you to your room.” Everything from that moment on happened so fast; it was a blur for Isabella. The wedding ceremony took place and Wesley to object. She was married to the prince and her life had fallen to pieces before her very eyes. She may not have been executed, but her life had still been lost. The king bought his son and daughter-in-law their very own castle for them to raise a family of their own in. She started showing signs of a child within a few months. Her stomach had grown bigger than anticipated during that time; perhaps, it would be twins. The nurse gave many explanations for her peculiar size until finally Isabella delivered sooner than expected. Nonetheless, she gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy whom they named James after her father who had been promoted in the kingdom and was now managing wheat and barley exports among other things.

            All was well as Isabella rocked her baby back and forth in the nursery. James had been crying from the crackle of lighting and the booming thunder from gloomy clouds looming in the sky. Rain pounded against the window and she hummed to her baby a lullaby to get him to fall asleep. Sparkling tears clutched to the sides of his eyes and from the corner a light began to grow throughout the room. There he was standing before her once again; that little man who had saved her life through his magically droll ways.

            “My dear, Isabella, the time has come.

A royal line your baby will not come from.

He is mine you see. Give him to me.”

            “When I made that bargain with you long ago I had no plan in my mind. Now time has passed and this child belongs to my husband and me. I will not let you have him.” The little man sighed and shook his head.

            “The child belongs in my hands.

 I will not give him up for all the lands.”

            “You are mistaken, little man. He does not belong to you. I am sorry, but you can not put a price on a life - not mine or a child’s.”

            “For each night I visited you I will give you a day.

 It is a game you will be forced to play.

Guess my name and I will leave your child alone.

 For my name, to you, is worth more than gold.”

The man left with darkness on his trail and no light left behind to aid the crying mother and child.

            For the next three days, Isabella searched for the man’s name. She sent messengers throughout the entire kingdom to find the answer to the riddle, but there was no luck. The little man came back each night and Isabella would guess until she ran out of names. Each and every time the little man shook his head. The mischievous glimmer in his eye was gone. Instead, only sadness replaced it. Isabella couldn’t figure out why on the earth the little man was sorrowful. He was winning after all. Wasn’t he?

            During the third day, one of her messengers came back with news of a strange and unusual occurrence. The messenger had said he saw a fire in the woods and heard a voice singing. He crept closer to see who it was when he saw a little man sitting on a log. His shadow flickered by the flame to appear as if he were dancing, but it wasn’t him singing. The voice came from a crow perched on his shoulder. The messenger had an experience with black magic and realized the crow was a actually an enchantress in disguise. She sang:

“The game is one she will never win.

There’s no one to tell her and there’s no giving in.

Come and dance with the flame.

She’ll never guess Ruoy Yelsew is the name.”

            Once her messenger heard, he ran immediately to tell Isabella.

At last, she knew the little man’s name and after all this time could keep her child. She waited and waited until the light came that night. She rocked James back and forth until the glow appeared along with the man.

            “Today is the last day of the test.

Are you going to let the game rest?”

            “I am not. I still have some more guessing to do.” She listed off several names and then stopped.

“Before I go on I have a riddle for you.

 I know your name is not Ben, John, or Drew.

But what if this game I happened to win

Because someone told me or you gave in.

Will you still go and dance in the flame?

After I’ve told you that Ruoy Yelsew is your name?”

          

  “So you’ve guessed the name of this little old man,

But not the name that was part of your plan.

I used to be young and tall

Until the day the evil enchantress made me fall.

She turned me into what you’ve now seen,

But just several months ago a man I had been.

She took away my ability to speak

Other than in rhymes with empty answers to seek.

I had fallen in love with a beautiful maid

And it was with her that I laid.

Not long after I was sent off to war:

The day the sky began to pour.

It pained me to have left her alone

With no future to call her own.

Unfortunately, I had no choice.

The king of my home was my only voice.

I left my post

In order to escape to the one I love most.

It was then that I became trapped by the evil enchantress

Who decided to trick me into this mess.

I did all I could to protect my love’s life,

But I gave her up to be another man’s wife.

I’ve been bound by the rules of trade.

I never wanted to be repaid.

My last request was for your baby to be mine

Which had already been accomplished and defined.

The baby does not belong to the prince,

But belongs to someone who has loved you since.

If you had guessed my name correct

You would have also had me as the effect.

My heart will split and break into two,

But I’ll never stop loving you.

Now, I shall remain as you see-

Forever and always, Your Wesley.” 

 

 

 AND IF YOU'RE INTERESTED....HERE IS MY REFLECTION FOR THE STORY

 

            The American author chosen for my project was Gregory Maguire, the author of Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West which is now a Broadway play. Gregory Maguire’s books Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister and What the Dickens were the works I chose to read for my project. Maguire has a tenancy to write fantasy fiction and I wanted to incorporate his different styles into my creative writing piece.

            What the Dickens was a book written more so with youth in mind. It was the type of book that could balance out one way or another without having a complaint from either end of the spectrum. What the Dickens’ storyline was easy to follow and the dialogue was easy to understand, which is not always the case when taking some of Maguire’s adult books into consideration. I wanted my story to have simplicity to it without going overboard. In the end, I was hoping to still be able to contain a level of maturity through the style he uses in his adult books.

            The overall main goal of my creative writing piece was to develop a classic story that everyone was aware of and build upon it until the end where I could switch up the storyline to add in a twist. Maguire does this with almost all of his adult books. He enjoys taking a character that in everyone’s mind is evil and gives him an excuse for being misunderstood. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister is just one of his many books that contain this element. In my case, I chose the Grimm Brothers’ story “Rumpelstiltskin” and attempted to work my magic in hopes of duplicating a similar style to that of Gregory Maguire. There have never been two identical writers without plagiarism, but inspiration can always provide an excuse for similarity.

           

Author's Note

The goal of this story was to mimic the styles of writing of the author Gregory Maguire. I included a lot of elements and am pleased with the results. I hope you are too. The story is a twist on the classic Grimm Brother's tale "Rumpelstiltskin".