Mr-DNA on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/mr-dna/art/Rosepunzel-737267144Mr-DNA

Deviation Actions

Mr-DNA's avatar

Rosepunzel

By
Published:
20.1K Views

Description

Commission for :icontress-manipulator: 
 
 
Rosemary Morgan could hardly believe her eyes, but there it was, in Underborough of all places. Noticing her unblinking gaze at the item in question, the antiques dealer approached her. 
 
"I see that book has caught your eye, Madam." 
 
"Oh... uh, yes! It certainly has," Rosemary replied, shaken from her stupor. 
 
"That is no ordinary collection of fairy tales," the shopkeeper began. 
 
"I'll say," Rosemary interrupted. "It's the book my mother used to read to me as a kid, and I read to my daughter. The exact one!" 
 
She was correct. It wasn't just another copy. It was her childhood book, down to every last tear on the cover, down to every last fray of the binding. It even smelled the same. Rosemary's head filled with questions regarding when the book disappeared and how it could have arrived here. But the only question that escaped her lips was, "How much?" 
 
Happy to make any sale on a slow afternoon, the shopkeeper rang up the book without bothering to continue his pitch. He wished Rosemary a pleasant reading, and she thanked him. Rosemary clutched the wrapped book to her chest the whole walk home. Her kids were still at school when she reached the portal to the human world. If they'd been at the house, they would have seen an unfamiliarly giddy side of their mother as she dashed up the stairs to her bedroom. 
 
Rosemary sat cross-legged at the end of her bed as she excitedly removed the layers of craft paper from around her reclaimed book. Maybe it was the different lighting, but for all of its wear and tear, the colors on the cover seemed much brighter than they did in the store. It was even brighter than her own recollection, but every other detail was just as she remembered. The book's cover featured a pastoral scene with a gold border. The title, which simply read Fairy Tales, hung in a single cloud in an otherwise blue sky. The one structure poking out from the rolling green hills was a tall tower with a single window. It was no doubt the tower from Rosemary's favorite story, Rapunzel. 
 
As a child, Rosemary was always enamored with the beautiful Rapunzel. Sure, she had been given away to an enchantress at birth and locked alone in a tower, but she still managed to spend her days singing and tending to her impossibly long, golden hair. The young Rosemary was even a little jealous of Rapunzel, despite the misery and woe that the Brothers Grimm had in store for her. It was always about the hair. Even now, Rosemary's chestnut curls would be a tangled mess if they grew too far past her shoulders. Rosemary opened the book and involuntarily ran her fingers through her hair. She gave a quick sigh of frustration as she pulled at a small knot. 
 
The annoyance melted way as she laid her eyes on the pages. Seeing the cross-hatched illustrations, the illuminated letters at the top of each paragraph, and even the typeface itself brought back memories. These were the fairly more recent memories of reading to her daughter Angela, just shy of ten years ago. Becoming a parent rekindled Rosemary's love for her childhood fairy tale. Angela seemed more drawn to the macabre aspects of the story, particularly the king's son's eyes being gouged with thorns after his encounter with Dame Gothel. Rosemary would lovingly call Angela her "Little Creep" before tucking her into bed. Still, Rosemary couldn't help but notice her daughter's fine, straight hair. With a little time, who knows? She could be a dark brown-haired Rapunzel. Rosemary would never force Angela to grow her hair long; she wasn't the type to live vicariously through her children. She never exactly persuaded her to cut it, either. Just because Angela was her Little Creep didn't mean she couldn't be her Little Princess, too. 
 
Rosemary was snapped out of her reminiscence from a quiet tap. Looking down at one of the many instances of "Let down your hair," she saw that it was blurred by a single tear. She closed the book with her index finger still marking the page and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. 
 
"Get it together, Rose," she whispered to herself. "You're not old enough to get this sentimental." 
 
She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her bangs once again. Her hair felt strangely smooth. A few shiny, yellow strands swung gently from her field of vision. She leapt to her feet, still clasping the book in her fingertips. She reached behind her neck and pulled back a lock of straight, blonde hair. It began winding free of her grip. It was growing, and quickly! Before she knew it, her golden locks were spilling around her feet. She started to feel disoriented, as though the whole room was moving. A cool breeze brushed her cheek. She turned to find that her bedroom window not only no longer had any panes, but it also now overlooked her neighborhood from a hundred feet up! 
 
Rosemary shifted uncomfortably. It felt like her clothes were getting tighter. Undoing the tie of her long sweater, she did not see the loose long-sleeved shirt and jeans she put on that morning. Instead, she looked down to see a ruffled skirt, a ribbon-tied corset, and a peasant blouse. They were all meant to accentuate the body of a much younger woman, but Rosemary was shocked to discover that she had that body as well! 
 
Rosemary spun around her room, speechless. The soft green painted drywall had been replaced with bare stone. There were no corners; the room was completely round. Her furniture was either drastically simplified or had vanished entirely. But most importantly, there was no door. Looking down from her lone window, she could see the rest of her house was unaffected by the sudden bend in reality. Her room was now a stone tower jutting awkwardly from a two-story suburban home. She knew her kids would be coming home from school soon. She'd have some explaining to do, but she was in no mood to shout the news from her newly-formed keep. 
 
Rosemary stared at her loose hair draped over her granite windowsill. "I suppose I'd better get braiding," she sighed to herself. 
Image size
2250x2250px 3.55 MB
© 2018 - 2024 Mr-DNA
Comments27
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Kachopper9's avatar

Too bad she didn't end up a princess as well