Yes, finally, some type of writing from me. I plan to update this regularly, with the proper motivation. Reviews and criticisms will be highly appreciated.
Without further ado,
Rapunzel
Part one.
Heather paced her chamber with slow steps, making sure to avoid all of her malicious pets that were crawling on the floor. She hated to admit it, but she was bored. There was absolutely nothing evil for her to do; she'd already gone through her daily checklist. Running a hand over her shiny head, she settled on trying to find a solution to her main problem.
Heather was descended from a long line of witches, and being a witch implied possessing powers. Unfortunately, when a witch came into her powers, she lost the thing she valued most. In Heather's case, her beauty was sacrificed for power, something Heather's mother described as "far more stunning than physical beauty". For Heather, who wasn't the prettiest person on the island, her beauty meant her hair. So at an early preteen age, she lost it all. Every single strand. Since then, she had tried to steal hair from other girls in the land, but to no avail. Alas, Heather remained a molted snake, so to speak.
Currently, she was forming a master plan to get some hair, like usual, but she was stumped. She was isolated from the other inhabitants of the island, except for her two servants: Beth and Lindsay. And she would have rather died than take hair from either of them! Albeit Lindsay had nice hair, Heather claimed she was too smart to be a blonde. Furthermore, she hated blondes with a passion. Beth's pathetic ponytail would be a disgrace. She needed some nice, non-blonde, rich, thick hair that would make everyone envious of her. When running through the list of inhabitants of the island, she groaned; no one on the islands, let alone the whole world had that type of hair.
Heather growled, slamming her fists on the table where her crystal ball lay. Then, once noticing the rotund object, she smiled her own version of a twisted smile and sat down, focusing all of her energy on it.
"Crystal ball, where you lay, show me what to do today," she spoke slowly, cringing at the cliche-ness of the rhyme. It wasn't her fault; she hadn't come up with it. The crystal ball fogged up once the recital of the spell had been made and it took a good five minutes-much to Heather's impatience- before finally coming up with a clear image of the village square. For a good half hour she spied on the cheerful villagers, bored out of her mind. Then, completely by accident, she stumbled upon a bedroom, a strange vibe coming from it. Curiously, she made the crystal ball creep around the room, only to jump back and scream, covering her eyes.
"My eyes! Oh, my poor, unscathed eyes," she shrieked, rubbing them thoroughly. Apparently, she'd stumbled upon a select couple, during one of their 'pleasuring' moments. What made it hurt even more, however, was that the female of the couple was the one Heather hated the most. It was always a competition between them, especially back in grade school; who could have the shiniest hair (of course, this was back when Heather ha d hair), who could get the most dates, who could get the most votes for homecoming queen? The list went on.
Originally, the female's husband had been Heather's lover. But upon finding out that she was a bald witch, he hadn't reacted to the news so well. She hated them both, and vowed to someday get revenge on them.
There was one thing she noticed about the female during the little incident: she seemed a lot heavier up in the front. Suddenly, Heather came up with a great idea—an idea that would be the perfect revenge on the previously mentioned happy couple.
o 0 O 0 o
Bridgette cradled her small infant to her chest contently before taking a seat on the designer couch that was casually displayed in the parlor. A small coo escaped the new mother's mouth as the baby began to fuss in her arms, the less than pleasing smells of the aftermath of a party irritating her nose. Seeing her daughter's nose scrunch and crinkle, Bridgette sniffed the air herself, only to wish she hadn't a mere few seconds later. She stood up and set the small infant on the couch gently, only to straighten out her dress and then pick the little one back up and into her arms again.
"Geoff?" she called out, searching the room for her husband. "I'm going to take the baby to bed. I think the smell of alcohol might be bothering her." The response was a weakly heard "All right, Babe!", signaling that he was probably straightening out one of the other rooms of the house. Climbing up the wooden stairway, Bridgette reflected on how grateful she was towards God that he had allowed her to become a mother. She'd been wanting a child for so long, and here she was, blessed with a beautiful angel. She was the daughter of her dreams; feather-soft, flaxen-blonde hair with a slight curl, sparkling blue eyes, and the most adorable button nose. No wonder Bridgette couldn't keep her attention off of her.
Once arriving at the lavishly decorated nursery, Bridgette lay her sleeping child in her pink crib, turned on the lullaby-playing mobile, and kissed her once on the nose before turning to leave. She gave her sleeping daughter another glance before softly closing the door as to not stir the child from her slumber. Heading down the stairs, Bridgette silently cursed the aching pain in her thighs. Being pregnant really took a toll on her usually limber muscles. Since she had only given birth to her daughter a few days ago, she was still incredibly weak; even the slightest bit of exertion fazed her.
After what seemed like twenty minutes, Bridgette climbed down the stairs and located her husband. With help, she sat on the counter, feet propped up on a stack of empty pizza boxes. Neither she nor her husband spoke for a while, both of them enjoying the comforting peace and silence; with the new baby, only God knew when the house would be this quiet again. Bridgette stared at her buzzing husband; he moved around the kitchen, cleaning with a speed that belonged to ten Olympic gold medalists, not one husband. She took sudden interest as he bent over to pick up a stray beer bottle, noticing how his loose pants slid down further and further, far enough for her to see his star and hearts tattoo at the very end of his waist. Bridgette had to hold back another fit of giggles as she knew the story behind the tattoo; oh, what a drunken night could lead to.
Once recalling the story, she began to really laugh hysterically, much unlike her slow, sluggish behavior over the past few days. Alas, once the laughter had died down, the consequences of her actions took its place. She stifled a groan as to not upset her husband and slumped further in her position on the counter.
"What's so funny, Babe? Did I get pizza stuck to my butt again?" Her husband, Geoff, had asked, beginning to spin around like a dog trying to catch it's tail. Bridgette began to laugh all over again at the ridiculous comparison. Her husband never failed to amuse her, one of the many, many reasons why she loved him.
"No, no, that's not it at all. It's just," she paused here so she could hold in a giggle. "When...how...was your butt always that flat?" She asked, barely able to hold in her laughter. She began to calm down as Geoff rolled his eyes, continuing his cleaning. After a few more moments she figured what she'd been laughing about was really silly and inappropriate; her hormones were still flying a bit out of line, just a temporary, but lasting, side-effect from the pregnancy.
"Very funny, Bridgette," Her husband finally replied, sounding slightly stern and beginning to clean up once more. Bridgette knew she wasn't in trouble, as Geoff had a small smile on his face as he cleaned. She lay back further against the cabinet, focusing on relaxing her tense back muscles; they were cramping like crazy. She jumped slightly as her stomach knotted up; something was wrong, she could tell. Suddenly, a loud crash was overheard from the nursery, followed by the baby's wail. Bridgette, ignoring her husband's questions, raced upstairs with speed uncommon for a woman in her condition. She heard Geoff follow behind soon after, only a couple steps behind.
Bridgette barged in the room, previously unable to since the door had been barricaded by pieces of furniture in the room. Ignoring the obvious question of how the furniture had even gotten there in the first place, she hurriedly turned on the lights, looking towards the crib for her sleeping angel. But the sight she was met with wasn't what she wanted—not at all. She hurried towards the empty crib where a perfect, sleeping little angel once laid. Now, instead laid a note, and a note only. Bridgette brought her hand up to her throat, then fell on the floor instantaneously, beginning to cry. She was vaguely aware of her husband reaching the room, gasping in the doorway before noticing his wife crumpled on the floor.
"Bridge?" she heard him ask in a hesitant tone. She opened her eyes and rubbed them to see him already next to her trembling, sobbing figure. "Bridge, what's up? Are you okay?" Bridgette couldn't believe this was happening to her; she'd just been graced with a beautiful gift, only to have it taken away from her within two days. She couldn't bring herself to read the note; she would leave that to her husband. With a shaking finger, she pointed to the empty crib, another sob escaping her throat. She forced her eyes to remain open as she watched Geoff look towards the crib, and once noticing his daughter wasn't there, he cursed loudly, looking around the whole room. Due to the graveness of the situation, she couldn't find the heart to laugh when it took him a good ten minutes before noticing the very bright red note in the crib, even though it stood right out from everything else in the pink and yellow pastel colors of the room. As her heart clenched, she watched with anticipation as he picked the note up slowly and read it, closing his eyes and shaking his head in disgust.
"Babe, I'm so sorry," he finally whispered to Bridgette while getting down to comfort her. She embraced his warmth as he wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, protecting her the best he could. She cried into his chest for some while, and that was before she knew what the note even said.
"What...what did it say?" she finally brought up the courage to ask, wanting to know what happened to her daughter. Her grief had momentarily subsided enough for curiosity to take place.
Bridgette saw how Geoff hesitated to tell her. She wanted to strangle the answer from his throat from the way he looked at her. After what seemed like hours to Bridgette, Geoff silently handed Bridgette the note, a grim smile on his usually cheerful and optimistic face. Bridgette sniffled and brought it closer to her face so she could read it. It seemed to be years before she finally processed what the note said, and when she did, she paled and immediately fainted in Geoff's arms.
"Bridge? Babe? Holy crap, are you dead! How could you be dead and still breathing...? Wait...that's not possible. Bridge, wake up, c'mon wake up!" Geoff cried out to his unconscious wife. The red note fluttered lifelessly towards the ground, it's black letters glaring out of the red.
Dear Mortals,
Thanks for the gift. I'll be sure not to return it. You guys sure know how to make one ugly baby, don't you?
All my Love,
Heather
P.S. I win :)
o 0 O 0 o
Heather reappeared in her estate, far, far away from the village, clutching the wailing baby in her arms. She'd barely gotten a good look at the baby, but she already knew that it was butt ugly. She walked up the spiral staircase, which led to her potion room, hoping to transform the baby so she could deem it somewhat attractive. In a few seconds, they reached a dim room with a large table in the center and potions and serums bubbling and spouting all over the place. Once the infant got a good whiff of it, she began to wail all over again, much to Heather's displeasure.
"This is what I get for wanting hair," she grumbled, setting the bawling infant on the table, then examining her with great care and hesitation. She noticed the flaxen color of her hair, the sparkle of Geoff's blue eyes, Bridgette's peaches and cream complexion, all making Heather want to throw the poor baby out the window. With a shake of her head, she went to a counter off to the side and grabbed multiple bottles of potions and syrups, all looking nasty and very harmful to the poor infant.
"First, you need a name," Heather spoke; to herself or to the baby, it wasn't clear. As she looked for more potions and such, she gave the baby a quick glance.
"Courtney," she said without hesitation. "Your name shall be Courtney." The newly named Courtney hushed up almost instantly, as if by magic.
"Now, I do hate blonde hair," Heather said as if Courtney could understand her. "It makes you look so...unoriginal. You aren't going to be a little weakling child here, not if I have anything to say about it. Let's see, now we could have you a nice red head, but that won't really do for a girl of your stature; and besides, it would remind me of crazy girl Izzy," Heather shivered at the thought of the woman. "And I don't want a revolting brown like Beth," she continued. "Hmmm. Let's see." Heather dumped a small vial of a green looking potion on Courtney's blonde head. She recited an incantation, and within seconds, Courtney's blonde hair instantly turned brunette.
"There we go," Heather said, clapping her hands. "The perfect shade of brown. But that's way too little hair to start out with, isn't it? But not too much, because I don't have the time to be taking care of all that, yet." She dumped another small vial onto Courtney's now-chocolate colored hair, and her hair immediately began to lengthen and sprout about three inches from her head, causing her to shriek and wail all over again because of course, having hair grow from your head forcefully hurts! After lasting no longer than a minute, Heather found that she couldn't take the wailing anymore and began to recite another incantation. Courtney instantly quieted.
"You shall be civil, polite, obedient, and loving," the witch said to her new child, "though you shall never fall weak to a man and will have strong opinions of your own." Heather forced a concoction she had previously made down Courtney's throat, and once she ingested it, she immediately began to coo and reach for her new-found mother. Heather smiled but then frowned upon noticing Courtney's fair complexion and sky-blue eyes. These features she had almost skipped because of the dimness of the room. Or maybe it was her faltering memory; who knew?
"We can't have you looking like a blonde angel, now can we?" Heather asked. "Fair skinned you shall not be, and I despise blue eyes." Within seconds, Courtney's skin began turning tanner and her eye color darkened and darkened until they were a deep black. But, unseen to Heather in the dim room, they had a nice sparkle to them that made her eyes bewitching.
"Your eyes will be black, like your soul soon shall be!" Heather called maniacally. "You will learn all of my spells and incantations. You shall be a good daughter, and a soon to be witch. Next to me, you shall be the most powerful, evil witch that ever walked the planet!" With that said, she laughed and took her newly transformed daughter in her arms, descending downstairs into the nursery she had previously prepared for her.