I’m sure you’re all familiar with fairytales. Dragons, fair maidens trapped in tall towers awaiting their prince, evil witches, selfish kings, tricky dwarves and heroic peasants. Most have happy endings, the two lovers reunited and the villain always defeated. Some teach a moral lesson. I don’t know if my story is like that, but it is my story, and it’s different, that’s for sure. Because, my story is a fairytale...gone wrong.
One must wonder if all stories truly end as they are written. Mine certainly didn’t. The fairy tale gone wrong? Rumpelstiltzkin.
That’s right. I’m the son of the Queen, who should have been saved by a lucky messenger who just happened to hear Rumpelstiltzkin’s singing in the forest, and gave his name away to my mother. But what should have happened and what did happen are rarely good friends.
So here’s what did happen. My mother never guessed the little man’s name, and I was taken away to live with that foul creature. Don’t ask me why the man even wanted me in the first place; he doesn’t exactly have a very loving, fatherly nature. No parenting skills whatsoever. I’m guessing that’s what made me such a wreck of a child in the first place.
Thank goodness I cut my first teeth early, or I would never have survived infancy. It’s hard to find something good for an infant to eat, out in the woods...or for anyone to eat. But somehow that wicked old goblin managed. And now, I’m 13 years old, and that’s the age I should start this story, I think. And it begins like a true fairytale...

In an old, old forest full of knobbly, rotten trees, was a little hut. It couldn’t really be called a hut, though, for it’s rooms always had only three walls, with plenty of cracks between the logs and planks of wood that were, together, the main part of the walls and ceiling. Outside this hut was a garden, and beside that garden was a huge black pot, which looked like it belonged in an evil witch’s cottage, especially since it nearly always had something in it. For old Rumpelstiltzkin lived here, and what most people don’t know about him, is that he was completely obsessed with cooking. Yes, it was his passion, his art form, the main part of his every day. He loved cooking even more than eating (although this is probably due to the fact that all his dishes are less than desirable).
Ah, and there he is, coming walking out of the shade of that little hut of his, wielding his big wooden spoon. Yes! And as you look past him, you notice...what’s this? Someone else lives here! A skinny, lean, teenage human boy with long, dirty, tangled, brownish-red hair, leaning back so that the front two legs of his chair are lifted off the ground. That’s me.
So let’s take a closer, less shallow and fairytale-like look, shall we?
I leaned back a little further, lifting my right foot momentarily off the high stump, then touching back down as I fell forward a bit. Bouncing, back and forth. Boring, yes, but not doing it would be even worse.
I took a quick look at the little man who’d raised me. At this point I didn’t know to question why I was out here with him in the first place, since no one ever visited this corner of the woods. Growing up with old Rumpelstiltzkin has a dulling effect on your brain. That’s my only excuse for not questioning my history sooner.
At the moment the little man was - as usual - cackling softly as he stirred around and around and around in the big pot with his oversized spoon.
“Yes, yes, we’ll have a good supper tonight!” he hissed into the thin curling steam.
I let all four legs fall back into place.
“What’s in it?” I asked, though I didn’t really care to know, and knew what answer I’d get already.
“No need for you to ask! What, you doubt my skills, boy? It will be delicious as always. Heeheehee! Today I brew, tomorrow I cook, and years ago the Queen’s son I took!” he laughed in a sing-song sort of way.
Like I said...being around this creature really makes you stupid. Sure, I asked a question. I always did, because he never answered them to my satisfaction.
“You’re always singing that song,” I leaned back in my chair again. “What’s it about, anyway?”
“Stop asking questions, and stop bouncing on that chair! You’ll break it!”
I kept bouncing. It had never broken before, and in my opinion, it never would.
Old Rumpelstiltzkin is quite the eccentric. He’s like the world’s most excitable kid and the world’s most insane villain, all rolled into one. He yells when he’s excited (which is quite often), when he’s angry (which is often as well), and just whenever he feels like it, which is always whenever you least expect it.
“YEEHEEHEE!!! Time for DINNER!”
I bounced backward hard, because the shout had surprised me, even after all these years with him and his unpredictability. The chair slowly began to fall backward, then crashed into the ground with me on it. I rolled over and stood up, and stared.
The chair was broken. The chair that never broke had actually broken.
Now, this may not seem like a big thing to most, but to me, looking back, I see it as the beginning of differences. The sign held up to show me that my life would soon be changing. Because right after the chair had crashed to the ground with a crack...just as the little man began to swell up in one of his incredible rages...just when I was getting ready for another deafening scream...I heard a different sort of screech.
The red-purple swelling in old Rumpelstiltzkin’s face slowly went down, as we both turned quietly and listened, wondering what that sound had been. We listened hard, but didn’t hear it again. A low, drumming, thrumming sound caught our attention instead. And suddenly, a flash of red tumbled through our little forest clearing, and after it came huge colorful blurs - brown and red and grey and black and white...- with even more colorful blurs atop them. I thought they’d simply pass us by, but after the first disappeared into the darkening green of the evening forest’s shadows, the second suddenly slowed and stopped, followed by the others.
Now, I had never seen a horse before, or any creature beside the wild ones that sometimes showed their shy, timid faces to me while I walked among the trees. These creatures at once inspired great fear and great admiration in me. And what’s more...I could not take my eyes off the creatures atop them.
People. Humans. Just like me.
Thus began my de-stupification process. The idea crept into my mind tentatively: There are people like me! Why didn’t I think about this? Why didn’t I know about it? WHY AM I HERE?
The riders all circled around and stood next to each other atop their mounts, and then the first one came back to see why he hadn’t been followed. A great, beautiful bird with claws and beak as sharp as a winter wind drifted down and settled on that man’s shoulder, letting out a screech that I recognized as the cry that had distracted me in the first place.
The man got down, ignoring Rumplestiltzkin’s indignant huffing and puffing. His sharp, dark eyes swept over the whole clearing like a huge hand, touching everything. Looking at him, I wondered...what do my eyes look like?
So many questions. But first I had to answer some.
“Who are you?” the man asked, in a strong, almost frightening voice. I looked over at the little man who had raised me, waiting to see what he would say. He never spoke his name to anyone, because he just didn’t. It’s another one of those weird things I can never really explain to people. But then, I realized, that Rumplestiltzkin wasn’t answering! And it was because...the man was talking to me.
I didn’t look him in the eye. For some reason I’d never found a reason to look someone straight in the eye when I spoke to them, because with Rumplestiltzkin, he was usually looking away from you when he spoke. Shifty eyes and all that.
“I’m...” I began, but was interrupted.
“Look at me when you’re speaking, boy. I don’t like the way you stare off to the side like that, like you’re ignoring me. Show some respect!”
I jumped and slowly, tentatively, raised my head and eyes so I could look at him properly. It was a strange sensation. When you look someone straight in the eye, it’s like really properly looking at that person for the first time. You see more somehow. I don’t know. Maybe it was different for me. I saw so much I almost couldn’t bear to hold his gaze.
“That’s better. Now, who are you?”
It took me a moment to find my tongue. “I’m..uh...Boy..”
“Yes, but what is your name?”
“My...name?”
“Yes, your name. What do people call you?”
Now, what the man didn’t understand was that I’d already said what my name was. He’d heard “I’m a boy” but...the truth was, that was all I’d ever been called. So it was my name.
“...Boy.”
There was a short silence at that.
“So that is your name?”
I stood up as straight as I could. “Yes. My name is Boy.”
Strange as it may seem, I was glad in that moment to have something I was certain about, even if it was my strange name, that really wasn’t a name at all.
The man nodded, and I thought I could see a smile in his eyes. One of those smiles that carry a hint of pride, as if the person is thinking “I’m impressed with you.” or, at the very least, “I’m amused.” I couldn’t tell which.
“Well, Boy. Pleased to meet you,” and he held out his hand.
I stared at it, not knowing what to do or how to react. The man laughed and withdrew his hand.
“I can see you’re a bit uneducated in human culture. So who is this little man?”
I glanced at Rumplestiltzkin, before re-locking my eyes with the man’s. My caretaker was looking furious, but too stunned to really speak.
“He’s...well he’s just..”
I stopped. Who was he? I didn’t know the name “Father” or even “Parent” or “Caretaker”, so I spoke the honest truth, which was everything I knew.
“He’s just...a little man.”
The man got that look in his eye again, that hint of a smile, and nodded. “I see.”
It was then that the little man found his tongue. “I am NOT just a little man!”
And with that, he began to use his magic. What, you didn’t know he had any? Well how else could he have turned all that straw into gold? Of course he has magic! Just enough to do little things like that. And enough to get what he wants.
So at this moment he took a deep breath and blew out and all the wind that lives in the forest - or even just visits from time to time - saw fit to obey him, and scream frightfully in the horse’s ears so that they bolted with the humans into the dark woods and out of sight.
I watched them go with a sense of loss. I’d been close to wanting freedom then, even if I didn’t know it. Deep within, I hoped they’d come back...someday.
“Well, THAT was a perfectly HORRIBLE way of interrupting a good dinner!” the little man said in his screechy, squeaky voice.
I smiled for some reason, looking at the spot where the riders had vanished. Rumpelstiltzkin saw this and just about blew up.
“What are YOU looking so smug for?!”
I didn’t look him in the eye.
“...Nothing.”


It was about a week later when I found it. That book had sat on one of the rickety little tables inside the hut for a long time, and I’d even seen the man scribbling in it feverishly from time to time, but as before, I’d never thought to ask why. Well, because I had so many questions since those riders’ intrusion, when I saw it next the thought just leapt into my mind. Why not?
I reached for it and flipped it open before I had time to reconsider. Once it lay open in my lap, though, I felt the beginnings of fear and excitement, and I didn’t understand why. But from the first word, that feeling only grew.
That silly girl has married the King, and promised her firstborn child to me! Soon it will be my own!
The writing was sketchy and a little hard to read, but somehow I managed. The little man had taught me the basics, and from there I’d gone on by myself for a while, scratching out words in the dirt with sticks or my fingers, until I lost interest because I had nothing else to read. Not really understanding the words, especially the ones like “married”, “King”, “promised”, and “firstborn”, I flipped back a few pages to see what I could gather. And there it began...the tale of Rumpelstiltzkin.
As I read I slowly began to realize that the boy in the story was me. So I had come from somewhere...I had been stolen away because my mother couldn’t guess a name. And yes, the little man’s name was written here in the book. I knew it now, and for some reason, I had the urge to tell someone. I wanted to go find my mother, and tell her, just for the satisfaction of setting things right. I wanted my story to end like a fairytale too.
“What...are you...DOING?!”
I jumped and closed the book with a deafening snap, my head also snapping upwards so I could look at Rumpelstiltzkin. He jumped forward, wrenched the book from me, and set it on the table with a knobbly hand over it before turning to scream at me.
“What do you think you’re DOING!? That’s MY BOOK!” I sat and stared at him for a while. Then, out of nowhere, a smug smile came to my face, and I leaned back in the chair.
“Relax, Rump. No need to lock it up. I already know everything I need to, now.”
And with that I made a stretching motion and accidentally-on-purpose knocked over an ink bottle onto the book. We watched, I in satisfaction, the little man in horror, as the ink spread through the pages, blotting out my scanty history. Don’t ask me where I suddenly got such an attitude...it just sort of popped up.
Old Rump was madder than I’d ever seen him, including that one time I’d accidentally gotten the wrong ingredients for his soup. His face was swelling up bigger than ever, his tiny hands clenched so hard they were turning white (quite a feat, there), and I could tell the loudest screech in the history of my life was coming.
“MY NAME IS NOT RUMP NEVER TOUCH MY BOOK AND YOU’RE GOING TO YOUR ROOM RIGHT NOW!”
He yelled this all in one string, with all his might, and I fell off the chair and went to my room, just to escape the dreadful noise...although...being in my room didn’t really help, seeing as one wall was missing. Leaning against the door, I waited for the storm to die out.
I walked over and sat down on my little pile of blankets, and looked out into the glaring afternoon trying to break it’s way through the sheltering trees. My mind ached for certainty yet raced to find a way to react. What was I supposed to do, now that I knew more about myself? Could I stay here? No...never. This wasn’t where I was meant to be. I had to go find that place...the place I’d come from. Maybe then I’d figure out things better.
Still not quite done getting over my stupidness, I stood without even considering bringing anything, and walked right out of the hut and toward the woods. Or at least I tried to, and ended up on the ground a second later.
“What the..” I stood up, rubbing my head, and took a step. Then another, and I felt my toes bash up against something. Hissing, I stood on one foot, holding the other with one hand, and reached forward with my free hand to feel what it was I’d bruised myself against. It came up against something smooth and unyielding. I withdrew my hand, shivering, and stood on both feet again. So...Rump had figured out that I wanted to leave. And he still didn’t want me to. I slowly sat down, staring through the barrier and into the woods beyond. If only those men had taken me with them....
Huh? What’s that? I looked up at a soft, murmuring sound, and was struck by a sudden, cold, drenching rain.
“Agh!” I shielded my face with my arms, and was about to scoot backward, but then...
I lowered my arms. How was the rain getting through? Had the wall gone down? I reached forward and my hand came up against solid nothing, again. In sudden rage, I beat my fist on it, but it didn’t break; didn’t even bend or make noise to acknowledge my anger. Feelings I’d never really know before rose in me...and I let them out quickly.
Rubbing my face and eyes with my hand, I turned my back on the rain and walked back to my blankets, which were - although slightly shielded - already soaked. Wrapping myself in them, I sat and watched the grey mist cover the world, and joined it in oblivion.

If I thought the next day would be better, the morning did everything it could to prove me wrong. I woke to Rumpelstiltzkin’s yelling (“GET UP! GET UP NOW!”), was given no breakfast, and then I found out what the little man was going to do today. For the first time in years, he was going back, to willingly make contact with other humans like me. I didn’t know why. He wouldn’t tell me. And what’s worse, before he left, he tied my wrists together, then tied them to a low tree-branch. If any of you are wondering why, then I can tell you that old Rump was tired from holding up that barrier the night before, and so was now resorting to more old-fashioned means. He did at least let that slip in his muttering.
I watched him go, glad to be rid of him but suddenly longing for him to come back so I could give him a good kick. What right had he to tie me up like this?
Luckily, the branch was low enough that I could kneel or even sit, if my arms were stretched out to their full length above me. But instead of relaxing, I struggled. I twisted my wrists, tugged and pulled, trying to get out. The ropes were tied tightly enough that it was no use. But I didn’t give up there: of course not! I lifted my feet off the ground and curled my legs around the branch, putting my full weight on it. Growling, I began swaying up and down. Up, down, up down...gathering momentum now..
The branch crackled.
My heart jumped, and so did I. Snap.
And next second I was on my back, with a broken branch on top of me. I wiggled my way into a stand, and twisted around so I could step on the branch and break it. Now it was shorter, but it was still attached to my wrists. But I wasn’t going to stop and try and find a way to get it off. Now that I was free, and could move, I was going to run.
Well...maybe not run. But at the very least, I was going to leave. And with all the foolishness of youth, I did just that, stepping into the dark, green-grey forest without a second thought, or a glance over my shoulder. It wasn’t long before I saw the bluebird.
It flickered and flitted through the dusty greens and browns like a sparkle on a murky pond. I stopped to watch it, wrists still bound to the small section of branch. It landed on a bush, close enough that I could tell it was looking at me, and tilted it’s head, letting out a quiet chirp before shooting off again.
In that moment something awoke in me. Something both foolish and wise; unnecessary for survival yet completely necessary to really live. Something that lives in everyone, though some bury it in deeper protection than others do.
It was a shiny, colorful, mysterious thing called...belief.
For a few moments, it completely took hold of me, and I believed, somehow, that if I followed the bird, it would lead me somewhere I wanted to be.
So I followed it.
Breathless and laughing, I followed it through the winding trees, in circles and spirals; forward, sideways, and back. In those tiny moments I had no fear of getting lost, for I had no goal except to go.
For a long time I followed it, until my breath ran out and I tripped. When I got back up, wincing...the bird was gone. I rotated slowly on the spot, looking in all directions around me. Grey and green trees stretched out forever. The ground was muddy and soft, and covered in leaves. I felt very alone.
Realizing that I had nowhere to go but forward, I began walking. No more than a few steps forward, I heard a crackling in the brush to my right, and jumped nearly out of my skin.
A baby bear peered out at me from between two bushes. Still winded, I paused, knowing I wouldn’t be able to outrun it even if it had looked aggressive. We just stared at each other. Then, the bear turned around and lumbered back the way it came. Coming to myself, I leapt forward and began following it. After all, I had nowhere else to go.
Tiredly, I followed the baby bear for hours, stumbling through the underbrush, scratched and dirty and wondering why I’d left, even though I knew the answer and never once thought of going back. If I’d even known anything about my appearance back then, I would’ve known without a doubt that I was a mess. As it was, I could feel the dirt under my chipped fingernails, and faintly smell just how bad this day had been...
Suddenly, the bear stopped and made a low grumbling little wail. I jumped again, even though I was dead tired. My eyes were half-closed and my whole frame aching with weariness, but I immediately became alert when a huge adult bear emerged from behind a huge tree to my right, it’s eyes fixed on me. This had to be the mother bear. My throat seemed suddenly collapse in on itself as the bear began trotting right toward me. I stood rooted to the spot by fear. Right in front of me, the mother bear reared up on her hind legs. I craned my neck to look at her face, squeaking timidly, half of it a whimper. My nerves were tingling, frozen icy cold. My heart clenched as the mother bear wrapped her huge furry arms around him chest and crushed me against her. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck, and then she grabbed the collar of my teeth with her shirt and began dragging me away.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. My shock became controlled and I began writhing silently; clawing, scratching, wriggling, all in an attempt to get away. My voice wasn’t working yet. The mother bear dragged me silently onward through the soft, dead leaves, and finally I saw darkness close in as we descended into an earthy-smelling den, the baby bear right behind me. I had no clue what the bear was going to do to me. Right into the back of the den we went, where I could see nothing. I felt the teeth let go of my shirt, and I scrambled forward, but a huge furry arm dragged me back, where another helped pin me to the mother bear again. Now I screamed, shrieking and pushing away, writhing frantically, trying to find some way out. I even bit into the bear’s arm, but all I got was a mouthful of fur. Suddenly, I felt a huge warm tongue lick my bare arm.
“Don’t eat me!” I shrieked hysterically, even as I felt her lick my arm again. “STOP IT!”
I heard a soft grunt, and then she continued licking me. My face, my arms, my stomach...any part that my ragged clothing didn’t cover. My hair, even! My fear choking me, I finally broke down in sobs, clutching at the mother bear’s fur and trying to curl into a ball while crushed against her, cringing every time she touched me. I shut my eyes and began trembling uncontrollably, still bawling like a little baby, burying my face in the bear’s soaked fur. Finally, my consciousness gave out.

When I woke, I wondered if I was still asleep. It was very dark...but I could see some sort of light in front of me. Soft fur was all around me, keeping me warm, and I could hear a heartbeat beneath my ear. The mother bear’s chest rose and fell peacefully in sleep.
I jerked upright with a cry as I remembered where I was, and tumbled out of the bear’s arms and into the cold, smooth dirt of the den. I raced toward the light, but my foot crashed itself against a stone and I fell to the ground with a cry of pain, holding my foot. But it only took the sounds of the mother bear waking to get me on my feet again. I stumbled sideways into a spider web, and shrank back with a cry, my heart thumping. My foot slipped and I fell into a little ditch, curled up and shivering once again. I felt the mother bear’s approaching footsteps like drumbeats of doom. She grabbed my arm in her teeth and gently pulled me out. A whimper like a lost puppy dog came from me. She lead me once more to the back of the cave, lay down, and pulled me in to lay beside her, her arms strong and unyielding, but soft. I sniffled and stared at the silvery light near the entrance to the den, my mind foggy, still caught between panic and weariness. For a while I listened to my and the mother bear’s breathing. Then once again, I fell asleep, too confused to even wonder what to do next.
Finally, the morning light cracked my eyes open and illuminated the den. I shivered, but stayed where I was. By now my mind had seemed to realize that the mother bear hadn’t eaten me yet, and so she probably wouldn’t. I felt so utterly small and helpless, I didn’t even think of how I was going to get away.
I lay there quietly, watching the light grow. Finally, the mother bear stirred beside me. She slowly sat up, dragging me with her. Nudging the baby bear, she once again took my arm gently in her mouth and led me out of the cave, her little one following.
I yawned, my nerves not quite on edge as my mind was still sluggish from sleep. The light was filtering through the trees in a beautiful way...little streaks of it shining down in patches and creating shifting shadows as the wind blew the leaves. I felt chilly, but my head was clearing and the breeze felt good on my hot face.
Suddenly, my stomach growled painfully and I winced, longing to fill it. It had been a whole day and two nights since I’d last eaten. I felt shaky.
The mother bear stopped, and I halted too, blinking confusedly. She let go of my arm, looking at me expectantly for a moment. I stared into her dark eyes, wondering, and trembling like a leaf as I rubbed where her teeth had held me so gently. There were hardly even any marks. I jumped when the baby bear let out a little cry. I looked up, and saw the little cub standing in it’s chubby hind legs, stripping berries from a bush nearby. My stomach growled again, and I stepped forward to join him tentatively. He moved aside a little, and I grabbed a few from the branch and gobbled them down. They tasted so strong and sweet. I stood there for a long time, rotating around the bush, then moving to the next one, wolfing them down as soon as they were off the branches. My hands were stained purple. Finally, I sighed contentedly and sat down.
Grumbling in a happy way, the mother bear nudged me to my feet and started off, looking over her shoulder at me. My hand still over the place she’d held me, I walked after her humbly. I had no one else to turn to out here. Even though she was a bear, and I was a human, she’d tried to help me by giving me somewhere warm to sleep and something good to eat, along with protection and shelter. I would go where she led.
We didn’t walk far before I heard strange, soft noises. Rumbling...a strange buzzing, whirring, very busy kind of sound. Many soft thuds. Voices! I took a few curious steps forward, thinking that was where it was coming from. I jumped when the mother bear nudged me from behind with a soft grumble. I blinked at her, and she licked my arm, then nudged me again. I continued forward.
The ground declined sharply in front of me, with many bushes and trees blocking my sight. But the noises were louder. I peered into the brush, wondering. Then, turning to look at the bear one last time, I was shoved and pitched forward with a girlish shriek. The ground rolled beneath me, as I yelled and tumbled headfirst down the hill, somersaulting and skidding and trying to slow down, getting lots of bruises and a mouthful of dirt and dead leaves in the process. Wincing and groaning, I finally slid to a stop at the bottom. I flinched and shook my head, squinting in pain at myself. Ouch. Those scrapes hurt!
Wow, you didn’t break your neck!”
“H..h..HUH?” I scrambled away from the face that suddenly thrust itself at mine. Once I was a few inches away, I could see the person properly. She was probably about my age, but much better dressed and taken care of. She looked at me with raised eyebrows and a frowning, critical mouth, her nose wrinkled.
“You really need a bath. Where’d you come from anyway? Some pigpen? You’re not even wearing real clothes!”
I stared at her; her bright, pale, clean face...her well-made clothes and her braided hair. To me, she was very, very strange looking. I’d never seen a girl in my entire life, and I’d lived around a little man who’d worn even filthier rags than me! What was I expected to think?
The girl went on. “You’re really weird-looking..”
I suddenly started and twisted around to look back up the hill. I squinted hard.
“What are you looking at?”
The bear...and her cub. They weren’t there anymore.
“Hey, are you listening to me?”
I turned around and sprang to my feet with a huge yell that came out of nowhere. The girl shrieked in surprise and fell flat on her bottom. I stared down at her with satisfaction.
“You’re the weird-looking one!” I said, then nodded and looked up, suddenly shrinking back at the crowd of people that had gathered.
They were all staring at me.

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