Spoiler! :
The pale blue dress twirled just above my knees, as I spun and spun in circles. The golden sea of wheat was my stage; the empty field was full to bursting with silent fans. As I closed my eyes and leaped into the air, I could imagine that I wore a beautiful royal blue dress, with golden lining, dancing for thousands of people. Soothing music filtered toward me from all around, the whistling wind coming in from the mountain, the “shh shh shh” sound of the wheat crashing together around me, and the tiny pat pat pattering of acorns falling onto rich soil and house roofs. I could feel the soft earth beneath my bare feet as I spun, my voice echoing out to accompany my natural symphony. I tilted my head back and arched my arms over my head, landing on a bent foot with the other twisted out behind me. I smiled; this was happiness, dancing for no one to the sound of nothing.
I leaped again as the golden sun set blood red on the horizon. I opened my eyes and my stage and my fans faded, I was in a simple field of golden wheat with no one to dance to. Supper would be on the table and I couldn’t be late again. I looked out into the orchard beyond the wheat and a breathless giggle escaped me. It had been my job to gather some apples for my mother to bake a pie. Of course she wasn’t my real mother, I couldn’t remember her, no this woman I lived with was not my mother, but I loved like she was. Quickly, I filled my dirty white apron with juicy apples and ran the rest of the way home dropping a couple along the way.
We lived in farm house, on a mountain with plenty of land to spare. Our house was a faded blue, blue like the sky, with a white picket fence and a brown horse out back. “I’m home!” I called into the house as I panted, straining to get air into my tiny body. I dropped the apples into the sink and smelt the vegetable soup. “Mother, are you up?” I asked. I was beginning to worry. My mother was old; nearly eighty-nine and she had been sick since the winter. Her bed was always occupied by her plump but feeble body, I had hoped picking the apples would bring her from her bed and make her more active, but it hadn’t.
“Thumbelina… is that you?” The old woman asked in a tired voice. Thumbelina was what everyone called me, I was short and tiny and fragile looking like the Thumbelina in the story, but it was not my real name. My real name was Maia; it meant Queen of the Flowers, it was the only thing I had of my real mother. “What took so long? Hurry now, get cleaned up for supper…” I looked at the woman who had raised me. She had once been tall and elegant, now she was hunched over and plump with her curly white hair tangled up in a bun behind her head. Her hazel eyes were clouded over with cataracts and her bones were brittle, her skin hanging. I hated to think of her as weak, she had raised me and had taught me how to be a lady; I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have much more time left with her.
I hurried into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. My skin was fair and smooth, my eyes glittered a striking violet-blue, only to be exaggerated by my thick wavy mahogany black hair. Which I always had tied back with a bandana decorated to look like the sky. I was awfully short, but curvy and lean, with long arms and legs perfect for dancing. I splashed water onto my flushed cheeks and at the back of my neck then dried my hands and sat at the table.
Together we ate the vegetable soup, home grown and fresh from our garden, in our warm kitchen which still looked sunny in the setting light. Everything was peaceful and calm, perfect, I was happy like I always had been with this woman, my mother. For too long had everything been calm and peaceful, something dreadful was going to happen, I could feel her sickness, hanging thick in the air. Death stood behind my mother as she coughed into a white handkerchief, I pretended not to see the red stain in the silky cloth…
______
The train rattled on the tracks as I looked at the fading country. I was dressed in a black dress, as I was transferred to a new foster mother’s care. It had been two weeks since my mother died, I had taken the time to sell the farm house and all our land at a reasonable price, the money spent to pay off any of her debts. Now I was being brought to a new home, my clothes bundled up in my duffle bag, and my body huddled under a light jacket to keep out the autumn chill.
A turtle necked man sat beside me, my social worker. He had a long neck and a beaky nose that always had to be dabbed with a handkerchief. Constantly, he ran long arthritic fingers through thinning salt and pepper colored hair. I had to love him because he had brought me to my mother over ten years ago. But I hated him for taking me away from the countryside… my home.
The tall trees and the golden sea of barleycorn faded into tall buildings that blanked out the warm and sunny sky. I hated it already. The sun was angled and bounced back and forth on the glass and metal buildings at odd angels, making the sun constantly shine into my eyes. The smell of iron, exhaust and humidity soon filled the air and I couldn’t breathe. My social worker looked at me funny and relaxed as the train pulled into a station. He was at home and fit in well with all the suited people. “Come along Thumbelina, we shan’t keep Miss Peters waiting.” I hated his voice, it was nasally and detached, he didn’t care where I ended up, he just wanted to go home and get paid.
“Of course…” I said politely nodding and getting up from my plastic and sticky seat. We claimed up a set of narrow concrete steps, my duffle bag making me stumble. As we ascended into the world of money, my stomach turned. I could feel the heat coming off of the street and the buses creeping along with countless cars and yellow taxies. The swarms of people on the streets was overwhelming, all of them dressed differently but each held themselves up the same way, like they were somebody special. I had to remind myself that they were somebody. I clutched at the coat tails of my social worker and hurried after him. He scowled but didn’t say anything.
Finally we came to a stop in front of a red brick building; it wasn’t as tall as its shimmering neighbors which reflected the sunlight like manmade suns. It had white shutters bordering the windows, and a fancy black and glass door with buzzers beside it. “Here we are, this is where Miss Peters lives.” My social worker said. He pressed one of the buttons and the door unlocked and we entered. I sighed in relief. Unlike the outside, this building was cold almost too cold, and smelled of mold and stuffy artificial air.
I was hungry and tired and I didn’t want to climb the stairs, but this was apparently an old building that didn’t have an elevator. We went up two flights of wide wooden steps and came to a door with a metal number 2 hanging lopsided on the door. Before the man could knock, a tiny mousy woman with wide brown eyes and straggly brown hair swung the door open. “Well hello there! You must be Thumbelina, I mean… Maia! What a pleasure!” The woman’s voice was high pitched and when she smiled, her tiny white teeth gleamed. She reminded me of the tiny field mice back home.
“Thumbelina, this is Miss Peters, your new guardian. I hope this is the last time I see you,” the man said, looking at me with his watery blue eyes. I was sixteen and wouldn’t need a foster home once I turned eighteen; he was saying he’d be glad to get rid of me. “I wish you well dear child,” and with that said, he was strutting down the hall, with that slight limp I had always been meaning to ask about.
Miss Peters ushered me into the house with tiny hands, she was even shorter than me. “Come come come!” I didn’t understand why she was so happy to see me; I was a stranger in her house that she’d have to deal with for three more years at most. “I am so pleased to see you! Thumbelina… what an odd but refreshing name, Mr. Andrews and his son will be here any minute! Hurry hurry, get off that dirty dress and put on something nice! Oh, mercy me, I almost forgot! This is your room; feel free to make it your own. I only wish that you keep it clean.”
Her apartment wasn’t that big. There were two rooms on either side of a bathroom, and there was a kitchen/dining room/living room on the other side. In my old farm house, we never had a room that was three rooms in one; we had a kitchen which was separate from the dining room and the living room. “They would like to see you before we head off to my vacation home where Mr. Manson and his family await our arrival. We’ll be going there in a few days. That should be enough time to get you settled.”
Miss Mouse, as I decided to call her, left my new room with a quick slam of the door. I wondered if she was always this hyper or had just drunk too much coffee. I changed into a white peasant skirt and a sky blue blouse, my hair was still tied back with my bandana my mother had given to me. I was glad I kept it, in the city you couldn’t see the sky. I came out and Miss Mouse was already talking adamantly to someone I couldn’t see in the kitchen/dining room/ living room. I hated that room already.
I stepped into view and a black haired boy with a double chin, gaped. I blushed and looked away. His father looked just like him, they looked like toads. “Oh! Mr. Andrews, this is Thumbelina, isn’t she pretty!” Miss Mouse grinned and waved me over. I felt like a bug under a microscope as they all stared.
“Yes, she’s quite pretty, don’t you think Jerald?” Mr. Andrews asked his son, who was still starring open mouthed at me. I looked at the two of them, they could have been clones! Both Jerald and his father had oily black hair and fat faces with wide brown eyes. “She would make a wonderful daughter-in-law.” That was when my mouth dropped open. Was Miss Mouse trying to marry me off to some stranger’s son?!? When I looked at the woman now, I could see her face with traces of old age at the corners of her eyes and around her grinning mouth, she wasn’t as young as I thought.
Mr. Andrews and his son didn’t leave until after supper, which consisted of overcooked spaghetti and cold sauce with stale bread. Miss Peters even ate like a mouse. “Thumbelina, would you be a dear and do the dishes? I’d help you but I’m so tired… Oh! I nearly forgot! I made you something as a sort of welcome home gift.” She disappeared down the short hall and into her room. Miss Mouse came back with a package wrapped in paper, which was held together with twine, and handed it to me. “Welcome home dear.” Inside was a quilt, I could tell it was hand made by the tiny imperfections in the sewing. It reminded me of my mother; she used to sew and had taught me how. I missed her so much…
______
Miss Mouse was so kind to me, and I wondered if I was being unfair. She fed me and bought me nice new clothes; she brushed and fused over my hair and face constantly, and she enjoyed my singing and stories. Finally it was time to go to her vacation house and by then it was nearly winter. “Come on Thumbelina, it’s almost time to go!” Miss Mouse called. I was nearly ready but was hesitant to leave; I was just starting to get used things, the house, the city streets, and the noise. Miss Mouse had given me a week to get used things. In those seven days, she insisted I hang out with Jerald and Mr. Andrews; I never complained or spoke out, since she didn’t have to take me in so I didn’t want to make her regret the decision.
We boarded the train with time to spare; Miss Mouse was a stickler for timing. I slept for most of the train ride, since the bouncing and rattling gave me a headache, but when I opened my eyes I laughed with pleasure. We were in the country! I couldn’t mistake those fields full of harvest wheat and the orchards with all their fallen leaves. This was home. The air was fresh and still warm and I found myself grinning in my glass reflection.
Miss Mouse’s house wasn’t as big as my farm house had been, but it was still a larger house than her apartment. “Goodness me, what a mess…” she said scowling and shaking her head at the leaves scattered all over the lawn. “Come now Thumbelina, we don’t want you to catch a cold; you have to look your best when you meet the Manson family.”
I hated always having to look my best for someone else. I wanted to look good to my own eyes, to be able to wear careless clothes that fit comfortably and were worn in. I was lucky if Miss Mouse let me wear the same clothes more than once a week. “The Manson house is off to the left. Behind us is a boy your age. Poor thing, he’s a queer and everyone picks on him, but he is very sweet. He takes care of my house when I’m away and does it for less money than anyone else. And can you believe that he gives it all to his family? He’s a real gentleman I’ll tell you…
“But, not good company for you, real company is Mr. Manson’s son, Arthur. He can really appreciate the finer things in life. He’d like you. He may be short sighted, but he’s rich. You’d never have to worry about a thing! You could dance and sing in front of thousands of people and wear the finest clothes! Oh it would be an honor to marry such a well rounded and handsome young fellow!” Miss Mouse explained as she walked up the front steps to the house. Again I couldn’t believe how she was trying to marry me off to a random stranger, and I wasn’t even her child! I knew she was living vicariously through me, but I wouldn’t say anything, she was kind to me and put me up, I wouldn’t shame her by objecting to her rude behavior.
______
When I had lived here, I had always felt like dancing. But now I couldn’t find the natural symphony I had come to know by heart, even when I focused. With a sigh, I walked as far as the property allowed, and then sat on the low stone wall which surrounded Miss Mouse’s red brick cottage.
I hopped the wall and continued walking, well a wear that now I wasn’t on the property. I heard the sound of shouting, and the familiar sound of jeering laughter. As I walked toward it I heard Miss Mouse calling from the house. “Thumbelina, come now, supper will be ready shortly!” I stopped and then hesitated before I hurried back toward her house.
The first few days were so peaceful. I heard stories of how wonderful Arthur was and how rich their family was, but it was just the two of us. Miss Mouse was kind, but she was shallow and I found her company rather dull and rude at times, though I held my tongue. Finally, the Manson schedule was open for our company. Miss Mouse had me dress in one of my finest dresses and made her best meal; spaghetti with wheat barley bread and corn muffins.
The doorbell rang and I greeted the Manson family. Mr. Manson was a sleek talking young man who seemed worldly and knowledgeable. I found him to be shallower than Miss Mouse. He had sparkling black eyes and black hair that shown glossy in the lighting. He wore a fine suit and was lean and lanky, a very handsome and rich man. His wife was no different. They both reminded me strongly of a cockchafer beetle, only lacking the feelers and the wings.
Unfortunately, their son Arthur couldn’t have been more different. He had the beady black eyes of a mole, and wore thick glasses that made him look too smart. He wore black velvet and spoke smoothly his voice as thick and as rich as honey. He was fat and sleek in his suit, but I had to remind myself, that he wasn’t as fat, as Mr. Andrews’s toad like son. Arthur was more muscle than fat I decided.
Throughout the whole supper, they spoke of Arthur’s greatness and my beauty; they told Miss Mouse how wonderful it would be to have me as a daughter-in-law as if I weren’t present. Arthur seemed stuck up and rude, but he knew a lot. Though, when I told my stories of the wonderful flowers and the glittering sun shining down on golden fields of barleycorn and wheat, he had nothing good to say about it. They lived in the apartment above Miss Mouse back in the city where they were born and breed.
They left, and Miss Mouse spoke the rest of the night about how lucky I would be to marry the Mole child, and have wonderful beetle like children. I didn’t think so. “Arthur was quite taken by you; I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked for your hand in marriage.” I tried not to roll my eyes. I didn’t want to marry him…
______
When the sun faded one winter evening, Miss Mouse went to sleep early, and I walked outside passed the wall and into the white woods behind it. I walked farther and farther, and found myself by an icy creek. There, lying on the rocky shore was a body. My breath caught in my throat, and I ran toward it. “Please don’t be dead… please don’t be dead…” I thought as I splashed through the cold water and trudged through the snow over to it.
I turned the body so that they were on their back and looked into the boyish face of a handsome boy my age. He had sun lightened brown hair and his eyes were closed tightly. His sleeping face reminded me of the soft face of a swallow. I put my ear to his heart and heard the faint pitter patter of its soft beating. His clothes were sopping wet and his hair was frozen but he was alive. I quickly turned back around, and rushed back to Miss Mouse’s house. I stomped toward my room, stripped my bed, and then sprinted slowly through the snow back toward the fallen body. I helped him up and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.
He grunted and I nearly screamed with delight, he was alive! “Hmm… who are you?” He asked through shivers.
“I’m Maia, but you can call me Thumbelina, everyone else does. Where is your home? Can you walk?” I asked. He nodded and I helped him to his feet, leading me toward the house behind ours. When we got there, I opened the back door and called. “Hello, is anybody there? I need help!”
A woman with light brown hair and kind brown eyes, screamed when she saw her boy. “Chase, oh Chase are you alright?!?”
“I’m fine mom… Maia helped me…” though he sounded annoyed, I could still hear the shiver in his voice.
“What happened?” She fussed as she took him from me and led him into a warm kitchen. I didn’t know what to do, so I stood there dumbly.
“Arthur got to me,” he said, I thought of the Mole child and glared at the ground. I hated him so much. “Maia helped me though,” for the first time, the woman looked at me and gave me a strained smile. “Hey don’t just stand there, come on in.”
Chase sat in a seat by a wood burning stove and shivered, his mother busied about the kitchen as I took an awkward seat beside Chase. After a few minutes, two cups of hot tea was made and placed in front of us before she hurried out of the room to set up a warm bath for her son. When I took it in my hands it was the first time I realized I was cold. “I should go, but I’m glad you’re alright Chase.”
“Will I see you again?” He asked after a cough. The cough reminded me of my mother’s cough and how it had killed her.
I nodded quickly. “Yes, I’ll ask to come by tomorrow, Miss Mouse I mean… Miss Peters would be upset if I went off longer than two seconds on my own.”
“Miss Peters,” he laughed. “You’re right she does look like a mouse, well than I guess I’ll see you later.” But when I looked back and waved, I saw doubt in his eyes…
______
I woke up early the next morning and asked if I could go over to Chase’s house, I thought Miss Mouse was a kind woman, I was wrong. “Of course not! You can’t spend your time with a queer! Arthur would be very disappointed! No, absolutely not! I forbid it!” I dropped the subject.
The Mole child came by again and listened to the stories I had to tell, he danced with me at Miss Mouse’s request. He did know how to dance at least. When he left, I told Miss Mouse my best story so she’d turn in early and then sat up in my little bed. I couldn’t sleep I kept thinking of that look in Chase’s eyes. Finally I couldn’t stand it; I hurried downstairs, made hot tea, put it in a thermos, and then hurried over to his house all bundled up against the snow.
Chase’s mother smiled when she saw me, even though it was late, and when Chase saw me he was shocked and smiled widely. I gave him the tea and told him stories about my mother and how I ended up with Miss Mouse. I was glad I could talk to someone about her. “That’s horrible… when my father gets home from the city, I can get him to adopt you or make a court case about child abuse or something. This isn’t right; she’s unfit to take care of a child!”
“I couldn’t do that, she has been so kind to me…”
“She’s trying to marry you off to a Mole!” Chase was aghast and when he coughed I flinched. “Stay with me… I’m sure you’d be happier.”
“I have to go…” I said looking out the window into the black and white world outside.
He sighed. “Will I see you again?”
I nodded. “I’ll come by every night, until I have to leave. That, I swear to you.” I said as I kissed his forehead and hurried back out into the snow…
______
Every day for a month I went to Chase’s house, I watched him get better as I watched the Mole child grow founder and founder of me. Finally, one day he and his family came over. After supper, Arthur asked me to be his wife. I was shocked and appalled, I wasn’t even seventeen yet! They left to let me think about it. “It’s a great offer! You couldn’t be luckier. Arthur is going to take over his father’s business, they’re rich and you’ll be set for life!”
“I really don’t want to marry him…” I said looking at my feet.
Miss Mouse glared at me and slammed her tiny fist on the table. “I don’t want to hear this kind of talk! I have been kind to you, this is my dearest wish; it’s the least you could do for me!” She snapped. “You will marry Arthur, before the winter ends.” With that, she went into her room and I was alone. I went over to Chase’s house and cried about everything that was happening, and what was to happen in two weeks time.
______
“We will be wed in the city, and you will be happy. Enjoy this last bit of country life while you can Thumbelina, I wish never to return to such a horrible place.” Arthur said one night. Miss Mouse was at the Manson house getting ready for the wedding. They thought we should have time to ourselves to get to know each other better.
“I like the country…” I said softly.
“Don’t be foolish Thumbelina; no one could like the country. Now, I was thinking, we shouldn’t wait to start a family, we’ll have wonderful children. They’ll be beautiful and smart and absolutely wonderful. What do you think?” His beady black eyes were on me; I just nodded and looked at my feet. “Do say something, aren’t you happy?”
I was about to nod, but tears rolled down my cheeks and I shook my head. “I don’t want to marry you…”
He shoved me away and got to his feet. “You should feel lucky to marry me! Honored even! I am the best thing that could happen to an orphan like you!” He snapped. I flinched and moved as far away from him as the couch allowed. “Unacceptable!” That was when he shoved me down and got on top of me, his heavy weight crushing me. “You cannot refuse me if you are already with child…” he said in his silky smooth voice.
I struggled against him and screamed but he was stronger than me, or rather he was too fat and my weak body could not remove him. He tore open my blouse and crushed his mouth to mine, silencing my screams. Then I could breathe again. Something crashed to the floor and I yelped. Chase had pinned Arthur to the ground and was punching him repeatedly in the face. “Don’t. You. Dare. You can’t hit her too!” Chase said in his deep and calming voice now full of fury.
A blond man pulled Chase off of the Mole and officers came into the room. I went to Chase and he held me as I cried. Miss Mouse came home crying along with the Manson family. They were followed like criminals by another officer. That was the last time I saw any of them…
______
Chase’s family adopted me that spring, and Chase introduced me to a boy with golden hair and emerald eyes. It was his best friend, a boy who looked like a fairy, with sharp features and a handsome face. He didn’t have the intention of marrying me off to the boy, it was only because he and Chase were best friends, and since I was Chase’s sister now, I would be seeing a lot more of him. And I did see a lot more of him. Chase couldn’t have been more excited, we had fallen in love.
This fairy boy loved me, not just because of my beauty, but because I could sing, I could dance, I had an attitude and a way with words, and I was kind and sweet and beautiful. He loved me for me. He loved me as Maia, not as Thumbelina.
When he asked me to be his wife, I wasn’t a child, I was a woman of twenty-two and I said yes. When I sung or danced in the golden fields of my mother’s old house, it was for my little girl and my fairy prince. I was happy and I was at peace again, living happily ever after.
Gender:
Points: 302
Reviews: 93