Dreamland prison

That night, an ice blizzard sliced through the air and cut the trees like a knife. It snatched their leaves and sent them spiralling like a hurricane into the black sky. There was nothing to stop the wind’s tantrum- no tall buildings or trees or walls. The village was quite deserted. Every cabin was buried under a hill of snow; every tree had been ripped down over the long winter. Nobody had been outside for days on end.
Inside the old schoolhouse, the air was toasty warm and still. The smell of gingerbread, mixed with the smoky firewood, filled every corner, and the light from the candle illuminated the tiny schoolroom with a tangerine glow. A grandmother sat sedately in her carved rocking chair, commanding the space like a judge in court. She was closely encircled by the seven schoolchildren of the village; all sprawled across heaps of blankets and folded shawls, like kittens settling down for a nap. The grandmother was knitting a pair of socks with thick wool, and as the children yawned and curled up around her, she told a bedtime story.
“Rapunzel was a princess- the most beautiful in the entire kingdom, but she was trapped in the tallest, highest, most terrible tower by a wicked witch”
As the grandmother started her story, in a land far, far away, Rapunzel woke up from a day’s hibernation, and, like a musical box that had just been wound up, her story began again, like clockwork.
The grandmother continued. “...And the handsome prince would shout out “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair”. You see, Rapunzel had the longest golden hair in all the land, and the prince would climb up it like a ladder to meet her.”
Every child’s mind dreamed of the prince climbing through the window of the tower, and of the witch, and of Rapunzel being rescued by the prince.
In their dreamland, a witch intently watched a crooked stone tower through a crystal telescope, from the narrow window of a castle far away. She was old as age itself, and lived like a parasite in the dreams of small children, and could change with the fairytale. Her cloak could be ragged or velvet or crimson lace. She could wear a cold china grin or a grey face and melted over bony cheeks. She could disguise herself better than a ghost in wintertime or illuminate her hair in blue flames. It all depended on the story- She was all wicked witches.
“...But the prince could never rescue Rapunzel, because the only way in or out of the tower was by climbing down her hair.”
“Awww! The children cried in unison
Up the tower, far, far away, a prince was scrambling through the topmost window of the tower. He pulled himself over the ledge, headfirst, and landed with a painful crash on his head.
“Oh, prince, you’ve come to rescue me!” Rapunzel’s face lit up with awe, and she ran to the window.
The prince groaned and picked himself up from the dusty floorboards. He had already rescued a maiden from a dragon that day, and spied on some rebellious sisters for a king, and now he was beat.
He was all handsome princes. Every story has its own princess, but the handsome prince never changes. He rode a white horse, and cut through countless thorn forests and slayed innumerable dragons, and whenever he rescued the same princess for the fortieth time that week, she still didn’t remember him, because that is how the story goes. He turned to face Rapunzel, and wearily explained
“Unfortunately, oh Rapunzel, I cannot rescue you from this tower, as the only escape is by climbing down your hair”
“What?” the princess sounded panicked. “Well, I’ll cut it off... We can make a ladder out of sheets or curtains- There must be something you can do!”
The prince sighed. It was his job to keep the story running properly, everything happening as it should. He turned to leave.
“I regret that I cannot rescue you, oh fair Rapunzel. Now, Adios, Au revoir... later, dude! The story is finishing... I mean, I bid thee farewell- may we meet again soon!”
Back in the schoolhouse, the children were falling asleep.
“And so that day, the prince climbed back down the tower, and rode off into the distance.”
“Did Rapunzel ever get rescued?” one child piped up
“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? Now, it’s time you all went to sleep. We’ll finish the story tomorrow.
Rapunzel leaned against her window ledge, staring out on the land below. The sky seemed to go on forever, into the distance. It was a giant sheet of inky black and crimson swirls, deep, velvet purple shadows and snowdrop stars sprinkled for as far as she could see. When the children fell asleep and forgot her for another day, she would be left alone, waiting for somebody to finish telling her story, and rescue her.