A single drop of blood. It caused a ripple and dissolved in the water before she even had a chance to acknowledge it. That single drop was the beginning a tale that would end in blood. As she stepped out of the river in the woods, she began to weep. This was the third time she had tried, the physicians had told her that this time it would work. They had made her sweat out what little fat she had with baths and hot sand, they had stuck oil soaked cloths up her Venus's honeypot day after day telling her if her body was too hot or too cold. They fumigated her with scents that made her see visions and lose control of her senses. They made her chew herbs like cattle till she threw up the foul tasting things. However, once again the child had been lost before she could carry it to term. Her husband sensing her impotency in advance had already left her and moved on to another. She had been shunned from the village so that her barren womb may not bring a curse upon the land. As she survived in a cottage on the outskirts she thought back to the last five years of her life. She had learnt so much about the human body that she was as good as, if not a better physician than any man. But a woman who knew the secrets of man was often called - a witch.
Witches were both, feared and revered. They had wealth, comfort, status and power. People came to them to seek help and they would curse those men who cause them harm or merely irked them. As she dried her tears, she decided if she could not be a mother then she would become the most powerful witch there was. She stole sheets and scrolls from the physicians and Druids she'd met and hid deep in the forest. She studied the science of the stars and the lore of old. She memorised spells and potions and practiced till she perfected them. For a while, she was known as the crone of the forest. She preyed on innocent and unsuspecting travellers, enticing them with the promise of food and shelter but using them to experiment and practice upon. Some survived and thanked her, others disappeared without a trace. As years went by her talent grew and stories began to spread about the witch in the forest who could cure every disease and lift any curse. With the fame came the wealth, her once tattered rags and matted locks were replaced by luxurious silks and braids adorned with flowers.
Some who couldn't afford to pay her, worked on her land or her home, others gifted her rare scrolls, riches and even seeds of exotic crops or flowers from far away lands. She had wealth, power, respect and most importantly, the village that once shunned her, today feared and revered her. Her little shanty in the middle of nowhere had become a glorious palace surrounded by an unrivalled garden that had everything from exotic fruits and herbs to flowers and ornamental vines from around the world. Several creatures of the forest were her pets and the walls surrounding her little paradise were high. Shielded from everyone, she had built her own world burying her past. The thing about wounds however, is that sometimes they appear to have healed but are in truth festering beneath the surface. Without your knowledge, they are rotting you away on the inside till your are so brittle that a mere look can cause you to crumble. This stands true not only just for a tear of the flesh but for one of the soul as well. For all her knowledge, she was going to discover this the hard way….
Being an empowered woman is exhilarating, but in the 14th century, it was near impossible to find a partner who was not submissive or oppressive but supportive and congruous. And so, our fearless witch despite all her riches had become lonely. The cure was simple, but thought of leaving her palace never even occurred to her. The safety and comfort of her surroundings held her back. The world had always been cruel to her but here in the middle of the forest, nothing could ever hurt her again. Before she knew it, she had become trapped in a prison of her own creation. One night, she heard a shuffling in her garden. It didn't sound like the wild animals but rather measured and hushed footsteps making their way. Unfortunately for the thief, the moon was full and he was further along in years than the young and beautiful witch in her prime. As he dug up her garden, she descended upon him brandishing a sword in all her glory. She looked every bit the witch from the fables, nay, in the ethereal moonlight she looked like an enchantress. The light wind and her balletic gown, made her elegant movements look like she was gliding on air. She sounded off the thief with "how canst thou dare!". The thief froze in terror, he had never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. If looks could kill, he'd have been dead already, for while he didn't recognise her, she knew, at first glance, exactly who he was - the husband who left her for dead
He cowered, as he explained that his pregnant wife was craving rampions and he knew not where else to get them. All the hurt and resentment she'd held in her heart, rose to the surface. The thought of a child softened her, but the jealousy of not being able to bare one was greater than that. The sight of the man who had made her aware of her inadequacies only fuelled that rage further. Hateful thoughts began spilling into her head from the wound in her soul that had been festering for years…
"He would now get from another what she could never give him,
If only she had been adequate,
He'd never really loved her, he'd only wanted her to bear him child
Maybe if the child was no longer there, he'd not love his present wife anymore
She'd been so inconsequential that he barely remembered her
He could not even recognise her after everything she'd put herself through, just for him"
The thoughts grew and her heart began to race. A swell of emotions threatened to overflow from her eyes. She wanted to swing the sword and bring her misery to an end, but he still held a power over her that she didn't quite comprehend. When she finally spoke, it was not her but the wound that gave her a voice "If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take away as much rampion as thou wilt… only, I make one condition, thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into this world. Fear not for its life for I will treat it with great care as a mother" Fearing for his life and still not recognising his old love, he consented to it all and thanked the enchantress for sparring his life. But his thanks fell on deaf ears.
Spring turned to autumn and then winter came along. The first snow of the season had barely covered the land when the man's wife was taken to bed. The stillness of the dark moonless night was shattered by the screams of a mother giving birth. She waited behind the house while the village gathered in front of it. When the babe announced its arrival, she entered and took it before either parent had the chance to even look at it. She took the child deep into the forest where she had built a high tower hidden from the world and protected by all kinds of magic. Many years later when her daughter asked her what her name was, and when she told her the little girl said "…But mama, isn't a Gothel one who nurses infants?" She smiled at the innocence and said "and like a Gothel, I shall nurse thee and protect thee from the evils of this world, and I shall do so for all eternity… Now Rapunzel, let down thy hair so mother can fetch thee some berries…"