Rapunzel Rewritten

“Once Upon A Time,

There was a princess who didn’t have a castle. Instead, she ruled the forests and rivers; making her bed in a great patch of soft moss and wearing flowers in her hair. And this princess was not like other princesses, because she could talk with the animals and sing with the wind. But an evil witch had cursed her at birth, so she couldn’t hear or talk with other people, since the witch was afraid that her parents would take her away. You see, this witch was the princess’ grandmother and the girl’s magic was what kept the witch alive. So the princess stayed in the forests and never saw another human soul until the night of her sixteenth birthday. That night, a knight snuck into the forest and stole the princess away because he wanted to take her magic to the real queen and king. But as they were leaving, the witch came and saved the princess from the scary knight by turning him into a large stone statue. Then, the princess and the witch went back into the forest and lived happily ever after.

The End.

That’s the story my mother used to read to me when I was younger. Well, read is a generous word. She would let me read it and I can only assume that she was saying the words as well and I just couldn’t hear them. I did a lot of reading when I was little, because my parents knew that I couldn’t hear them and taught me sign language as quickly as I could. I always felt like I was the princess, because she, like me, didn’t hear or speak. Only later did I learn that she had written the book especially for me and had gotten a lot of recognition for it.

“Teacher and single mom Amy Starr rewrites fairy tale for deaf daughter.” The press just ate that stuff up. As you’ve probably guessed by now, that story I told you was based on Rapunzel, but she didn’t just stop there. It became her whole brand; creating inclusive versions of fairy tales that were appropriate for small children. Next, she did The Little Mermaid as an albino who ends up getting married to the prince’s sister. The Frog Princess had vitiligo, Mulan was transgender, and The Little Match Girl not only survived, but was blind and dreaming the entire time. They started to get a little strange, but everyone loved the representation, so she became a star overnight.

As for me... well, I guess I had my own things to do. I went to a boarding school for deaf children because my mother was busy and my father wasn’t in the picture. I did learn things, the program even let us take college classes as well, just nothing particularly helpful. They couldn’t fix me or give me some miracle cure, but at least I learned how to read six different languages, right?

Eventually, I graduated, something my mom didn’t even know about because she was busy touring Europe with her version of a poly-romantic Wizard of Oz and writing the script for the Rapunzel movie. The ceremony was nothing particularly special, but it took a really long time, since only a few of us could even hear a tiny bit and they had to put the words up on a screen. When the whole thing was done and I had my diploma and a degree (Let’s just say I had a lot of free time over the breaks) a driver met me at the front and handed me an envelope full of money, close to a million dollars. It was my mother’s way of looking out for me, I suppose, but all it did was disappoint me.

I got into that car and drove to the nearest airport with all my belongs in a single suitcase. I moved to New York and did the one thing that people naturally assume a deaf person shouldn’t do; I decided to become and actress and live in one of the largest cities in the world. I was good at it too. I dyed my hair black, changed my name to Presley Rivera and became renowned for my talents, playing just about every hearing-impaired or mute character there was to play.

A few years later, I got an offer to be in one of the largest book-adaptations there was on the planet at that very moment, and I’m sure you could guess what it was; my mother’s Rapunzel movie. At this point, I had moved on to a strawberry blonde hair color and looked completely different that I had when she first dropped me off for boarding school, but I still suspected she knew who I was. I accepted the offer anyway, and flew up to the set Canada.

Now, I’d love to say that I walked into that building and didn’t see my mother at all, or that she treated me the way a fan would, but that would be lying. When I stepped inside, I was immediately rushed to a dressing room and, waiting for me inside, was my mother.

She hadn’t changed a bit, which I’d like to attribute to good genes and the magical powers of hair dye, but it was still shocking. Of course, she certainly had more class and of course she had more wrinkles, but it was like I had stepped back into time. While I was standing there, my jaw on the floor, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me how wonderful it was to see me. I, being the emotional actress I was, started to cry. It was very cinematic, really. If only it had sound...

Then, she dropped a bombshell on me, which was nice, since I was already sitting on the ground, in tears. She only had 10 months to live and wanted to do two things before she died. The first was to make the Rapunzel movie, with me in it, and the second was to help me learn how to speak. She said she had always regretted not teaching me and, even though it was widely considered impossible, Helen Keller had done it, so how hard could it be.

And so, we got to work. We started to film the movie, most of it taking place in real forests across the continent, and I learned how to talk. It was tricky at first, but eventually, we worked it into the movie, which was actually different that the story I had been told. Now that I think about it, the things she changed made that character so much closer to who I was, which means she must’ve been watching out for me. While on set, I met my lovely girlfriend, Emma, who played my on-screen love interest, and repaired my broken relationship with my mom.

And now, I stand before you, talking, to wish my mother goodbye for the final time. And whatever comes next, I’m sure she’ll be writing more inclusive fairy tales when I come to visit her someday.”

With that, I stepped away from the podium and blew a kiss towards my mother’s casket before sitting back down next to Emma, who leaned her head on my shoulder.

But this was not the end. It never really is. In every story, life goes on, even when the last chapter finishes and everybody’s gone. And so that’s what we’ll do. Just keep living, but making sure not to forget. That’s the real moral of every story, even if they don’t live happily ever after.