By Clarissa Ruth
I clenched the fistful of grass while trying to ignore how my hands now appeared. My feet ached as I trudged up the desolate path, but a worse anguish lodged in my heart, threatening to overflow.
A few places in the kingdom might offer me refuge, yet here I was, heading to the one place I’d never be welcome. Perhaps I was a fool for clinging to the morals my mother taught me—the ones she’d abandoned the day she cast me out—but my task pushed me onward. If only hatred didn’t weigh me down.
I plucked a long blade of grass from my fist and twirled it as I walked. “Father’s smiles and rare hugs.” Tears cascaded down my cheeks. My heart split in two, but finally, I let go. The grass drifted, returning to the ground.
One by one the blades fell as I tried to release what I’d lost. Mother as she was—before. My garden, silk dresses, friends. Even older brothers.
One strand of grass I held for what felt like hours.
“Geffard.” I crested one hilltop, then descended into a small valley dotted with lichen-covered rocks. “If you loved me so much, why did you let me go?” Ten thousand tears later, I dropped the blade.
How much grass I killed during that three-week journey I couldn’t say. After two wrong turns and many harrowing nights hiding from cougar-bats, I finally reached her door.
I knocked and the door opened. I found myself staring at a human-like face covered with a short layer of sleek, golden hair, which also overlaid his neck and hands. Piercing brown eyes with gold specks opened wide as our gazes locked. His strong jawline had thicker hair than my slim one, and my eyes were blue, but otherwise our appearance matched.
My hands went slack, dropping the remaining blades of grass. How?
“Gree—” His voice went high and cracked. He cleared his throat. “Ahem, ah, greetings and welcome to Moll’s Mansion.”
I kept silent.
“Would you come in?”
Who’d have thought Moll’s doorman would be courteous? I nodded.
With fur-covered hands he gestured for me to go first, neat as any nobleman’s son. I entered a gigantic, stone-walled room. Suspended in its very center, an immense sphere of water shimmered in the torchlight. The water magically stayed within its bounds, hosting dozens of brightly-colored fish.
Off to one side sat a massive plant with vines as thick as my arm. Two vines held a rag and bucket and scrubbed away at the wall while two more tendrils swept and mopped the floor. Central to the plant, a fuchsia flower looked disturbingly like a huge, pointed head.
“You like my house?”
I’d remember that voice anywhere. I turned to see the woman who appeared neither young nor old. Her coarse features twisted in confusion as she eyed me from where she sat. A miniature house, made of quivering leaves, stood on the table in front of her.
Moll cleared her throat. “So, you’ve met Liev. He was the inspiration for your curse.”
Great, I thought, and had to bite my tongue. Now that I again saw her squinted black eyes and bulbous nose, I wasn’t sure I could manage to do what I came for.
“Well, Princess Felicity, how do you like your new look?”
Sharp hatred thrust into my heart again. “You will be happy to know I am a princess no longer. I am without family or country.”
The witch giggled. “You’re right. I’m thrilled.”
Why did she have to make this so much harder? I curled my furry hands into fists.
She stood and waved a hand, and the leaves rearranged themselves into a mimic of me, fists and all.
“You’ve come all this way, for what? Revenge?”
“No.”
Wishing I still had grass to drop, I glanced back over my shoulder. Yes, Liev was there, staring at me. Was that… admiration?
I turned back, sucking in a breath. I could do this. “I came to forgive you.”
Moll froze, then propped a hand on the table as if to steady herself. The leaves collapsed into a dead pile and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You know I can’t undo it.”
“I know.” Though my gut twisted, my heart was free. Ready. I opened my hands toward her. “Even so, I forgive you.”
The witch’s jaw worked, but nothing but a squeak came out. Silence stretched between us before I finally turned to go.
Liev’s eyes shone with tears.
Nodding once to him, I headed for the door, sparing one more glance for the sparkling water with its jewel-like inhabitants.
“Wait.” Moll’s voice had a strange softness to it.
I paused but didn’t turn. “I came because it was the right thing to do. You owe me nothing.”
“Even so,” she whispered. “Perhaps…”
I kept facing the door that led to a world where I’d never belong.
“You may stay.” She spoke as if the words pained her.
I turned. “Why, if you hate me so?”
“I hated you because I was jealous of your beauty.” She toyed with one of the leaves.
“And now that I have none?”
Moll shrugged.
I glanced to the side where Liev stood gazing at me with longing and affection. Perhaps I could try it, for a while.
Mist wrapped the base of the mountains like a white skirt, and the air breathed newness. A perfect morning for another walk with Liev. In one week, he had treated me better than Geffard had during our entire betrothal year. If only Moll’s feelings were as clear.
A curious sound greeted us as we slipped out the door. There by the path, my abandoned grass stood, planted like a tiny choir. In perfect harmony, with voices high and reedy, they sang a love song.
I grinned at Moll’s perfect gift. This time, I didn’t pull away when Liev took my hand.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This is beautiful!
That ending was beautiful. <3
Very interesting. I love how the forgiveness freed her, hard as it was for her to say the words. Cool way to present the lesson. :)
Great touches of poeticism in your voice — I felt like they were especially appropriate given the story.
Stunning personification and lovely language: “Mist wrapped the base of the mountains like a white skirt, and the air breathed newness.”
Plus, when you finished the story, it finally put all the pieces together – well constructed!