Golden Locks

Another short story I wrote. It is based on the tale of Rapunzel. I did not get to edit it properly, so pardon any typos or errors. Enjoy.

Golden Locks

The prince climbed up the spiraling stone steps that seemed to rise unending towards the heavens. He could not see the end yet continued still, driven; step after step. His velvet and silk robes glimmered decadently under the light from his candelabra. His rich gentle garments swished in the invisible wind. His loins ached with demonic desire. His lips salivated with untamed lust, an appetite that will soon be satisfied; only to be resurrected when night falls the following night; like a beast under the moon.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally reached the huge oak door. He pulled out a golden key from his pocket. He raised his candle sticks nearer to his face to inspect the key. The gold replied him with light so beautiful. The soft light of the flames danced upon his beautiful face; youthful Adonis. Yet behind those divine ocular delicacies, there lies a beast; and what was worse was that this beasts had a crown.

He slid the key gently into its home in the door. The light painful grating sound of metal filled his ears, making his body tighten with anticipation. He twisted it with utmost care. The agonizing tight click confirmed its perfect fit; the perfect union. The massive oak door swung open.

And before him, lay a piece of paper, upon the floor; innocent.

He hollered a name. No reply.

He picked up the paper. He read it.

Dear husband,

Yes. Husband. My Husband. The Church had made me thy wife. Only thy wife. merely thy wife. I am yours. Your possession. The priest upon the altar had sold me to you on our wedding day. My vow was my reluctant contract signing me grudgingly to you. You own my body, my soul, my heart.

You took me from my home. Where I came from, nobody knows, nobody cares. Everyone knows me as thy wife, thy princess wife. No one knows me.

Thou art a jealous man. Jealousy flows through your veins like venom. It pumps so hard that you lock me up in this wretched tower; this dark needle that pricks the heavens. You fear other men would ensnare me. Well let me tell you this, seeing how you pinned and banged and throttle me like a piece of pork, your fear of my adultery would not have been unfounded. Those cruel nights I was plastered between the cold stone walls and your warm hard body while I cry in pain, I cried to God to help me. Yet the Lord heard me not, only the night did.

You've exhausted me to the brink of inhumanity and breath. Dignity, you made sure, was never mine. I was thy wife. The God's Church and its priest made sure of that.

You gave me only one damned window, from which I could lament like a caged lark. Yes, you lavished this stone enclosure like a palace, yet it was still a cage; no amount of velvet draperies and dark oak furniture could change that. Yet you equipped me with one weapon; a comb.

Each day I would comb my golden locks as I said goodbye to the faithful moon and welcomed the almighty sun. Each night I would comb my golden hair as I bid farewell to the dying sun and sing salutations to the holy moon. I combed my locks, praying for the day it would be long enough to free me. The day has finally come.

If I flee this prison, you will hunt me down with all the hounds you could garner. You shall hunt me down. I shall never be free. And God will cast his loving gazes away from me for I have broken my oath to you, to the Church, to Him.

Yet I am willing to be damned for all eternity. My escape will make sure of that. Yet I welcome it in its full glory; the wrath of the almighty and the caresses of Hell.

Soon I shall be with my brethren; those who have been misunderstood and condemned. I shall meet adulterers who went into the arms of another for their husbands and wives are cruelty incarnates. I shall dine with men and women of the night who sell their supposedly God-given bodies to satisfy the masses' lust, merely to survive yet another day. I shall be welcomed by men who are lovers of men and women who are lovers of women; souls who love purer than many I know. I shall embrace souls who covet their own flesh and blood in lust and love. I shall be hand in hand with women who were men and men who were women; souls who finally found their identity. I shall sing unprejudiced hymns with men and women who merely wish to help those the He threw away. I shall pray with all those who were not given a room in the holy kingdom.

I shall be in a kingdom of flames. Yet I care not.

I shall be with my brothers and sisters, and we shall celebrate in a holy communion.

And above all, the holy Lord of the infernos is not one who is judgmental. His eyes are not cruel; for he, above all others, knows best how it feels to be discarded by his father for his imperfections. And he shall embrace me.

I wait for that moment. I anticipate it with every fiber of my being.

Now my hair is long enough for me to flee. I have weaved it into a golden rope, my savior; long enough to free me. You can have my body. But never again, my soul; for I am taking it back from you. Fare thee well, husband.

Thy Nameless Wife.

The prince crushed the paper and raced through the room; rage swelled within and around him like a storm.

Velvet curtains red as blood hang from every corner of the room. A dark oak four-poster bed stood magnificent, like a great wooden bird-cage. A black armoire stood beside it. A vanity mirror stood across the bed, reflecting the moon. And in front of the window, on the ceiling, hung the golden rope that was her hair; it gleamed gloriously under the moonlight. It was more beautiful than angel's hair. Its end was a noose, which coiled around the girl's neck; like a golden serpent. Her eyes remain glazed towards the blue moon.

Her hand clutched upon something that glimmered upon the moonlight; her comb., her weapon.

And thus, she was free.