Tuppence: A Fairy Tale Retelling by E.S. Barrison

Author:E.S. Barrison [Barrison, E.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E.S. Barrison
Published: 2021-04-26T20:00:00+00:00

Nine

I continued to pace around my bedroom, ignoring my grumbling stomach, aching head, and yearning heart. How would I escape this prison? No matter how many times I threw my body into the door, it refused to budge. My shoulders ached after my fifth or sixth attempt. Afterward, I attempted to claw open the window, only to break each of my nails.

I screamed.

I shouted.

I begged.

No one was listening.

As the sky turned black, I collapsed on the floor and held my knees to my chest, sobbing. It wasn’t fair! Nothing was fair!

And now Molly Goat was gone too!

I had no one!

As I sobbed, a hum filled my throat, and as if Molly Goat were there with me, I sang a soft, broken tune.

Be free little Molly Goat, just like me.

Run to the green, run in the trees.

Without you, I am nothing but a sad queen,

But we were free. We were free.

The door to my bedroom unlocked with a click.

I brought my fingers to my lips, gawking. Did I do that? I always supposed that Molly Goat was the conduit of my magic. Not me. Not me on my own.

I was just a farm girl, after all.

Uncertain, I took each step down the stairwell with care, in case Mama, Uma, and Tertia returned home early.

Yet not a sound broke the silence.

Once I was positive no one else was home, I snuck into the kitchen to grab a loaf of bread, then pulled on my boots. Shoving the food into my mouth, I hurried from our farmhouse, still dressed in my potato sack. The road wove and twisted up the hill, feeling longer and more poignant with every step. The Kingdom watched me from a distance, the lights from the Ball painting the sky with a colorful and picturesque light show. I pictured them dancing, smiling, and laughing, only for Mama, Uma, and Tertia to tarnish the affair.

I reached the top of the hill. The Kingdom flickered from blue to red, to purple, beating to a distant drum. Another song worked its way into my throat with the beat. Magic wrapped its arms around me, and I sang with Molly Goat in my heart.

Bleed little Molly Goat, my dearest friend,

They’ve killed you dead, they’ve killed you dead.

We did so much, but our time must end.

My heart will defend; it shall defend.

I thought we’d weave a dress of thread,

But instead, but instead,

They’ve killed you dead.

Bleed little Molly Goat, my dearest friend,

My tears have shed, my tears have shed.

And my dreams have gone to bed.

Because you’re dead, because you’re dead.

I guess it’s time for my anger and sadness to wed,

It’s time to chop off their heads!

From the ground, a knife, the same one I had brought onto the hill earlier in the week to slaughter Molly Goat, emerged. Magic swallowed it, and the blade spun with golden wisps in the air. Then it stopped, no longer just a mere knife but a precise golden dagger with a clean edge. I caught it by the hilt and gazed at my reflection in the blade: pure, untarnished, and ready.

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