This is for Stella's Retell a fairytale contest. It's a retelling of the Brother's Grimms' fairytale "The Spindle, Shuttle and Needle". Some quotes are from the original story. This story is in two different P.O.Vs. I'm sorry if it's a little confusing, but I'm not sure how to show the changing P.O.Vs.
Cold wind chills my body as I walk down the path. I need to get away, away from all the madness, and the whispers.
I am swallowed by the forest; the beautiful green of the foliage surrounds me. The fraying him of my dress skims over the rocky pathway; I pull it up with my hand, the fabric folding over my fingers. My bonnet falls back, the string resting against my neck as the wind blows it back. My hair falls free, billowing in frigid air.
I reach into my apron pocket and pull out a ribbon, tying back my long black hair. As I walk through the forest I think about what is about to happen. The woman who has raised me since I was born, for almost fourteen years, is about to die. My world is about to end, it’s crashing around me.
I know I don’t have long; I exit the woods, and turn back toward our little cottage at the edge of the forest. The door is opened slightly, the small one room house exposed to the snowy wind.
As I enter the cottage, I see the chaos inside. Our little table is toppled over, the wooden toys my father made when I was young lay cracked and some destroyed in front of the fireplace, Lucia’s loom lays broken on the floor. The small mattress is shredded in the corner.
“Honor,” Some one yells from outside the door. I spin around, startled. I can see Beth Rose moving closer to the open door. “It’s time,” she says quietly and morosely as she leans against the doorframe.
I nod, it had to happen sooner or later, and unfortunately for me it was sooner. I walk out of the house, turning back. I blink back tears as I look at Lucia’s home, where I’ve lived for years.
Beth Rose leads me to the center of town, a large crowd has gathered, to watch. We follow the group of people, up the hill, away from the town. Beth Rose and I weave our way to the front of the crowd. I take in a sharp breath as the gallows loom in front of us. A tear falls down my face; I wipe it away, before anyone can see it.
We stop the rattle of the carriage rings out in the silence. No one speaks as it moves around us, stopping at the wooden part of the gallows. Reverend Lucas stands, with an open bible in his hand as two men lead Lucia up the wooden steps and size the rope and slip it over her neck.
More tears slip down my cheeks, my nose stings, and the freezing wind feels like it is slapping my cheeks. I can feel Lucia’s eyes on my as she looks down into the crowd. I can feel Beth Rose’s protective arm around me.
“Don’t cry, child.” Lucia’s words ring in my ears. The words she told me after her trial, whisper back to me. “You will prosper,” she had said, “Use my needle, shuttle, and spindle and you will never need me. You will make your own way, my Honor, you will flourish.”
“I will always need you, Lucy,” I whisper, my words whispering into the wind.
Reverend Lucas says something, but I can’t hear. I look up at Lucia, who smiles at me, and winks. Tears blur my vision, and I shake my head, willing this to all go away. A piece of the platform falls and Lucia drops.
I scream, falling to the ground, taking Beth Rose down with me. I crumple into her arms, shaking and crying out. Around me people cheer, and clap, proud of what they have done.
“She wasn’t a witch!” I scream, pushing away from Beth Rose. They don’t know what they are thinking, hate twisting their thoughts.
I stand, looking to my left, where Liza Ashcroft is smiling. She is the one who did this to Lucia. She was the one who accused her. I want to kill her. I want her to suffer for what she did to my family, to me. She has ruined everything I could have ever hoped for or could have hoped for.
Suddenly something happens; Liza falls to the ground and someone beside her yells for Reverend Lucas. Everyone around begins to panic, pushing and shoving to see what has happened. Liza’s parents and sister cry out for help, it sounds as if Liza is choking. Her sister falls, writhing in pain beside Liza.
Liza is silent, the choking has stopped. “Honor,” she whispers, it is quiet but loud enough for me to hear. Liza goes still and her color pales.
I push away from them. Away from all of them; no one follows me as I run into the trees. I hear shouts and screams, no doubt Liza and Ebony, making a scene.
I run to the cottage, grabbing all the things I can carry and set off into the woods, they can’t find me or they will kill me. I will be tried and hanged just like Lucia and the others. I put Lucia’s needle and spindle into the front pocket of my apron. The basket Lucia always put the fresh bread in is hooked over my arm, full of bread and meat we have salted, I cover it with a blanket. I look back around the room before I leave, the toys cracked and broken on the floor. I pick up the little wooden girl, clothed with the golden dress Lucia had made for it; it was covered in little pictures of flowers and woodland animals.
My pockets are full, the basket, holding everything else I should need. I make my way to the woods behind the cottage, following the path; I had walked down only hours ago. And this time I am trying to escape what I did to myself.
******
I watch as Reverend Lucas helps Mister Ashcroft support his daughter. Liza stands limply between them. Ebony is still on the ground, Goodie Ashcroft is kneeling down beside her trying to comfort her, she is no longer in pain but she is still crying, moaning about the black shadow that had overcome her.
“Isaiah, you are to help Goodie Ashcroft with Ebony.” I look up at Reverend Lucas and nod. “Son, take her to your mother she might know what ales her.” I pick Ebony up, and cradle her in my arms. Her mother walks beside me holding her daughter’s hand.
My mother doesn’t know what to say when I walk up the stairs to one of the bedrooms and set Ebony Ashcroft on my bed. She is speechless.
“What’s happened to her?” Mother asks, look at Goodie Ashcroft and then back down at Ebony.
“There’s another witch among us, Rebekah, and she’s witching’ my daughters.” Goodie Ashcroft says to my mother. “My Liza says it’s that Honor girl, Lucia Wolcott’s god-daughter; the one who was hanged.”
“Rachel, there’s no sense blaming that child for Lucia’s wrong doing,” Mother says, dipping a cloth in cool water, pressing it to Ebony’s pale face.
Goodie Ashcroft watches her every movement. “Bet Lucia’s been teaching her her witching ways.”
I don’t want to listen to these accusations. I make my way back down the stairs and out into the crowd who has gathered in the center of the town. Reverend Lucas is in the center of the group of people, no doubt organizing a search party to find Honor.
I walk around the group heading toward the woods. I have a feeling Honor will be there, it’s were she always is. She feels safe there, away from everything.
“Hi, Isaiah,” a voice from behind me interrupts my thoughts. I turn around, hoping that maybe it’s Beth Rose, she would know where Honor is, but Liza blocks the path behind me.
“Oh, hi Liza, you’re alright?” I say, surprised she is walking around so soon.
“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be,” she says this doesn’t make any sense; she had just almost choked to death, blaming witchcraft for causing it.
“No reason, do you know where Honor is?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t remember what she thinks Honor did.
“I don’t know, why would you want to know where she is? I’m right here,” she says, trying to get me to forget about Honor. But it’s not going to work, I have to find her.
“I’m sorry, Liza,” I say trying to think of a way to get rid of her, “but I have to go.” She looks hurt, but I turn away from her.
******
“Spindle, spindle, go and see,
And bring the one who truly cares for me.”
I sing the spindle had fallen out of my apron pocket, creating a trail of gold thread. It traced my path almost to the edge of the forest where I entered. Hopefully Beth Rose will come for me, and tell me everything will be okay, that no one is going to harm me.
The empty spindle sits in front of me. Behind me two headstones sit side by side, and I know I’m not alone, Mother and Father lay by each other, resting peacefully.
******
I walk to the edge of the woods, searching for the path that leads to Honor’s hideaway. The dirt path weaves in between the trees, grass growing over the dirt that once lead to the Anderson house in the center of the forest.
Golden string lies on the forest floor like a needle has threaded it through the trees. I follow it, picking it up and wrapping the thin thread around my hand carrying it with me as I walk.
Visions of what happened earlier that morning with Liza, her gray eyes staring up at the sky. Whispers of Honor’s name buzz in my ears, murmuring through the trees. I don’t know what I’m expecting. The sun has fallen; stars hide behind trees as I walk over the dirt path. Gold string winds up my hand.
******
“Shuttle, Shuttle, weft and woof,
Bring love to under my roof.”
I say, not knowing where the words come from. The door is open, letting the air into the house. The old house creaks in the wind, cool wind whistling through cracks in the aging wooden walls. I light the candle that sits on the table next to me. I can see the gold thread fluttering on the ground a few feet from the entrance way where the string impeded. It quivers just above the ground, whispering against the fallen leaves and swaying grass, a golden line in a see of green and brown darkness. The shuttle falls from my hand, rolling over the packed floor of the decrepit cottage.
Now I am alone in the house with only my needle. Careful I begin to sew, passing the time. The sun has disappeared; the day has passed quicker than I had thought it would, with everything that has happened.
“Needle, needle stitch away,
Make my chamber bright and gay.”
Lucia’s words escape my lips. I remember now the little sing song saying she used to say. She claimed they were magic, designed to bring good fortune and luck. But they were just apart of games we played when I was young. There is no such thing as magic.
The thin point of the needle comes forward weaving its way through the small cloth I saved from Lucia’s house. As the needle works its way down pain pricks my finger. I drop the needle, the force of its fall, breaking the fragile thread. I bring my finger to my lips, coppery blood drips onto my tongue from the small wound.
Quick as lightning the needle begins to dance on the floor. As it flies back and forth it is as if the small piece of thread attached to the end of it is never ending. It seems as if the needle threads cover the chairs and window hangings with intricate designs, morphing the whole room into something that looks brand new.
A twig snaps outside the house, drawing my attention back to the door. They have found me, I am truly dead now, I think standing, waiting for them to come.
“Honor, is that you?” A figure stands in the doorway. I can see him squinting in the dimness to see if it’s me. I look at the man.
“Isaiah?” I ask the figure, praying it is him and not someone else. He steps forward, walking toward me, eliminating the space that separates us.
“Yes,” he says, he sounds relieved. I smile at him, hoping he can’t see me blush. We have known each other for years but I can’t believe he’d come looking for me. He is close enough now that I can see his smile as he looks me over the candle flickers dimly beside me.
I stand still as Isaiah wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to him. I bury my head into his shoulder, hugging him back. I know he’s one of the only ones who can help me. We stand like this, breathing each other in, hope filling me up.
“Isn’t this wonderful, the reverend’s son and the witch, together again?” I pull away from Isaiah, turning toward the cold voice that has sounded from the doorway. Isaiah steps in front of me, as if he’s trying to shield me from the hatred that came from the shadow of a person.
“Liza, you shouldn’t have followed me,” Isaiah says, hate filling his voice as he throws it back at her. He sounds mad, probably about more things that I can guess. I look around him, as the light flickers in and out I can make out the hurt expression on Liza’s face as she looks at us.
“Son, that’s enough,” the voice of Reverend Lucas rumbles through the air, deep and demanding. “Honor Anderson, you are to come with me. Tomorrow you will be put on trial for witchery, and will join you god-mother in the gallows if found guilty.” I look up as he speaks directly to me. I can feel tears fill my eyes as he talks. Isaiah reaches around behind him, bringing me in front of him. I fall into his arms and cry, I can’t argue with the charges, it will make things worse, and I know it. He holds me close to him; I can feel his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.
“Father,” he says, anger and disgust weighing down his words as he addresses the Reverend. “You will try me also, if you wish to accuse Honor. I have know of her whereabouts and kept them from you. I would rather die than see her hang from the gallows.” I look up at him, his arms still holding me protectively. He doesn’t look down; his eyes stay straight, looking at his father. I hear Liza gasp from the other side of the room.
“So long as you associate with a witch, I am no father of yours,” the Reverend says, turning his back on us. Men come for us. Shackles bounding our hands, they lead us back through the forest to the village. We are put in rooms reserved for people awaiting trail, bounding our feet before leaving us alone until morning.
Isaiah and I are lead into the church the next morning. A sparse crowd has gathered, to witness our conviction. Liza and Ebony Ashcroft sit in the first pew with their parents beside them. Reverend Lucas and a few other people sit at a table that has been set up in the center of the front of the church. We are ordered to stand in front of the table, in the front of the aisle that runs down the center of the church.
The whole trial went by in a blur. Questions about us working for the Devil and questioning our faith flew back and forth. Half way through the trial, Liza started screaming that I was ordering Isaiah’s spirit to stab her with a needle. Ebony began to shout when a needle rolled across the floor, just as her sister had said and fell at my feet.
Isaiah never got to say a word, his father just glared at him the whole time, asking me how I was commanding him, desperately trying to find a way to find his son innocent. But after many questions and I refusing to confess that I was a witch we where lead to the gallows.
I was first to walk up the steps, the chains on my wrists clanging softly. One of the men who had lead us out of the woods adjusted the rope. He slipped it over my head, my long hair pressing against my neck because of the rope that pushed it down. I stand straight, looking at the crowd that has gathered before us.
Like when I was in the crowd, Beth Rose stands in front row, a handkerchief pressed to her eyes as tears fall down. The Ashcrofts have come to watch also.
Beside me the other man is sliding the coarse rope over Isaiah’s head. He looks over at me and smiles; I smile back, and try to be brave.
“Life is like threading string through a needle, it is difficult, but worth it,” Isaiah says softly, so quiet I can barely hear him. “But Honor, we have woven a beautiful carpet leading to heaven, where our fairytale will begin.” His beautiful words ring repetitively in my ears. The last thing I hear before we fall is my own words as I whisper that I love him.
You've inspired me to check this contest out, anyway. Good luck with it!
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