Unsigned Books

A Modern-Day Fairy Tale.

It was on his journey to the border of the hinterlands that the beautiful prince, Björn the Younger, happened upon that small village hidden away in the middle of a deep, dark forest that somehow had been overlooked by nearly everyone for centuries. He had travelled many a mile across his father’s lands yet had not come across a sight like this. Only one small path covered in leaves, twigs, mud, and roadkill led into the tulgey woods and into the small town of – what he was soon to found out – the unluckiest people in the entire kingdom.  

Not having had anything to eat for a long while, he stood hangry in front of one of the doors of the daintiest looking house there was amongst the dozens of magnificent buildings. Each dwelling resembled a different kind of mushroom. A connoisseur could have easily distinguished, for example, the Amanita Phalloides or even the almost equally wonderful and gorgeous Galerina Marginata. Björn, however, did not notice this. 

With its pink checked curtains in front of the windows, a little heart-shaped hole in the middle of the door and an inviting sign with cheerful letters that read ‘Get Lost’, he decided this would be the best one to knock on. As he stood there waiting for it to be opened, he heard the most beautiful of voices calling out to him.   

“Just a minute, I am taking a shit.” 

Right there and then, the young prince knew this was the voice of his future wife. He had fallen in love with the girl by the mere sound of the vibrations of her vocal cords echoing through the gaping gash at the front side of her head. “Surely, she must be the loveliest woman in the whole of the land,” he thought, “for an ugly hag would never have been gifted with a voice that could set a man’s heart on fire the moment his ears caught its sounds.” And as the door opened, his anticipation grew more and more.  

In front of Björn the Younger stood Eliza, dressed in a light blue frock of the finest material, wearing matching ribbons in her long, blonde hair and even matching socks. She was the ugliest hag the women of the village had ever given birth to. Cross-eyed, hunchbacked, crippled, crooked teeth and not just one wart upon her nose but an entire face covered in them. Had it not been for the oracle, she would have been drowned at birth, chopped into pieces and fed to the pigs that would then be set on fire in a remote place of the forest. The wise woman said to the villagers, as they were dangling the hideous baby by her feet over a nearby creek, that it was imperative she would live as the future of the entire town depended on it. 

“Excuse me, lovely lady, I am Björn the Younger and my father is the king of these lands. I have travelled far and wide and have not eaten for days. Would you be so kind as to let me in and prepare a humble meal for me?” 

The monster, for that was what she was, turned red upon seeing the handsome prince and hearing his request. Never had a man, or any person for that matter, asked her to be let into her house, let alone prepare a meal for him. She quickly straightened out her dress, tightened the robe around her waist to cover her hunchback a bit and bowed her head in respect. 

“Of course, I will do as you ask, good sir. But I fear it is only fair to warn you, it will be a very silent evening as I cannot speak. For, you see, thirty-seven years ago a witch done put a spell on me. And not just me but the entire village.” 

“How unfortunate to hear,” the prince replied, “that a pretty, young damsel such as yourself, with the voice of a choir of angels, cannot speak. It must be a heavy burden you have been carrying around all those years. Pray, tell me, which witch with what wickedness would wield such a power and do this upon you and your people?” 

“This, sir, I cannot say, for you see, I cannot speak. I would have loved to tell you everything, but the spell, you see, prevents me from speaking even a single syllable.” 

The prince was overcome with pity and at that moment swore to himself he would find the horrible person responsible for cursing the woman he now loved madly and make the witch who had done put a spell on them, lift the curse or kill her if she would not. He was let into her house where the woman of his dreams prepared the best meal she had ever made. They both enjoyed the food while engaged in intimate conversations on mathematics and quantum physics. She proved herself to be knowledgeable and witty at the same time. Yet, one could tell by the sad look in her bleary eyes, she would have loved speaking to her prince charming but was extremely hurt that she could not.  

As time passed, and the witching hour was closing in, the atmosphere turned gloomy for she knew they had fallen madly in love with each other, and Björn the Younger would want her to disclose the horrible history of this here town. After a full minute of intense staring around the room trying to get both of her eyes to look at him, she gave up and gathered all the strength she could, holding on tightly to the tablecloth with her bony fingers, to say unto him, 

“Woe is me, my handsome prince. How I would have loved to tell you of the evil witch who cursed the village because we would not grant her the right to have each first-born baby of every married couple, but it is simply impossible for I cannot speak.” 

“Fear not, fair maiden, for it is I who shall set forth and free thee and thine village from the shackles that bind you. On the morrow I will leave and shall not return before my duty is fulfilled. Then I will ask your father for your hand and make thee my wife for as long as we both shall live.” 

Upon hearing these vows, the ugly thing fell down to her knees crying tears of joy, wailing as loudly as she could and thus keeping everybody in the small town awake. After half an hour of loud sobs and heavy breathing through a clogged nose, the princess-to-be showed her knight in shining armour the couch he would be sleeping on. She herself laid down in a nice, warm, soft bed and fell into a most exquisite short and fitful sleep.   

As Eliza was an early riser, she had already informed everybody of the quest her – dare she say it – ‘boyfriend’ was about to embark on, and a great feast was quickly prepared. Ciara – the oracle and wisest of women in the whole of the land – had told the strongest man around to pack his bags and join Björn the Younger. Benjamin, who had no actual job and spent most of his time picking up and putting down heavy tree trunks, was to lead the fearless prince to the castle in which the witch resided, and make sure they would arrive there safely. The journey would be long and filled with peril of the deadly kind. It was advised to bring swords instead of tree trunks as they would most likely prove to be more useful, and thus it was done. 

For thirty days and thirty nights they passed through fields, forests, and foreign lands encountering and slaying the deadliest of creatures with their razor-sharp blades. Robbers, thieves, muggers, and swindlers. Murderers, killers, assassins, and cut-throats. Reprobates, rascals, scoundrels, and degenerates. All of the aforementioned lowlifes were met along the way but none of them lived long enough to be able to tell the two brave warriors the way to the castle thus they were often quite lost and had to backtrack many a time.  

Covered in the blood of their foes and with barely any food or drinks left in their backpacks, they arrived at their destination. The castle – made of heavy, grey stones – seemed impenetrable. It would also not be easy to get to as it was covered with and surrounded by huge, green stalks with nasty thorns that could easily cut a man quite severely and make him bleed to death within a fortnight. They seemed to twist and twirl around like angry snakes in a pit.  

“Pray, Benjamin, what did Ciara say to you about these deadly thorns that we would encounter at the castle?” 

“I am awfully sorry, good sir Björn, she did not say anything about them for she cannot speak.” 

“Alas, it is thus. We shall have to cut our way through these stalks and just mind the thorns then.” 

As Björn started slashing his sword around in blind fury, Benjamin lighted a torch and set the stalks on fire. He pulled Björn away and they both sat down waiting for the fire to spread and eventually die out clearing the path to the castle for the both of them.  

“It was a good move of you to set the bloody things on fire, good sir Benjamin.” 

“It was as Ciara had proclaimed.” 

For three days and three nights they sat and waited until it was safe enough to walk up to the castle. At the heavy wooden door, strong Benjamin took the knocker in both of his hands and let it drop filling the castle with a loud echoing bang. A footman in livery opened the door and invited the heroes in, but requested they leave their swords in the sword stand by the entrance. The poor footman had to pay with his life for this silly request and had his head chopped off in the blink of an eye.  

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” came a voice from atop the stairs, “good footmen are so hard to come by these days and I had grown quite fond of Herman. Oh well, it can’t be helped.” 

The woman wasn’t anything like what one would have expected an evil witch to look like. She did not have a green face with an ugly, hairy wart on the tip of her nose. Nor was she wearing a pointy hat and a black robe. Au contraire, mon frère, she was actually quite stunning and could have well been the fairest lady of the land. To be quite frank, the interior of the castle was rather homely and cosy with elegant paintings of, what appeared to be, family members and relatives on the colourful walls. Silver chandeliers dangling from the ceiling lighted up the room and gave it a classic baroque look.  

“We have come a long way to negotiate the spell you have put upon the lovely people of a small village far away from here rendering them unable to speak. What have you to say about this, evil witch!” Björn spoke with the fury of a thousand protesters after an alleged rigged election. 

The girl stood awhile in thought and then replied, “Oh, that silly curse. Frankly, I had forgotten all about it. I shall speak to mother about it.” 

“Was it not you!?” Benjamin said in surprise. 

 “Of course not. Do I look like an evil witch to you?” 

All would have had to agree that she did not. Mother was called from her room, and the four of them sat down with a nice hot cuppa with some milk and an eye of newt to discuss the lifting of the curse. After three long minutes of negotiations, it was decided that Benjamin would marry the witch’s daughter and that the curse would be lifted on the day of their glorious wedding. The following day, the four of them set upon the journey back to the little village where the marriage was to take place.  

As with every trip, whether it be to the grocery store or another village, the journey back is always shorter. After just a week they were back in Mushroom Village. Although Benjamin’s wife was not happy with the arrangements, she felt she had no other choice than to leave him and marry her lover. It turned out to be a happy day, with not one, but three marriages taking place at the same time and a huge feast to top it off. Everybody rejoiced as they were now finally, after all those years, able to speak to each other.

Sitting near the creak together with his newly wedded wife, Björn the Younger was as happy as a clam.

“Pray, fine husband of mine, how come you did not fall for the charms of the obviously much prettier woman than me, and let Benjamin marry her?” 

“That, love of my life, is an easy question. I was not taken in by her beautiful appearance for I cannot see.” 

And all lived happily ever after.