A Fairy Tale
I’ve been on quite a whimsical mood lately, and I decided to write a fairy tale. I’ve also been on a doll kick, so I used that as a premise, and penned this tale. I think it might have a moral. Or something.
25,000~ words
Story and characters all copyright to me. 😛
Once
upon a time there was a puppetmaster named Karabas. So
great was his skill and so fine was his art that when he made his
puppets and
dolls he could craft into them the gift of thought and the gift of
motion, so
that when they danced and acted on his stage they needed no strings or
clockwork or other tricks in order to perform.
Karabas’
company had traveled for many years, and he had
made many, many puppets and dolls, but there was one that he loved best
of all.
Her name was Anya and she was a beautiful jointed porcelain doll, the
figure of
a woman but only the size of a child. She had shining green glass eyes,
and her
cheeks and lips were painted deeply crimson. She had many beautiful
wigs all
made of real hair in colors of honey, raven and fire, and dresses to
equal the
wardrobe of any fine noblewoman. To her Karabas had given both the
gifts of
thought and of motion.
Because
she was his masterwork, Karabas only brought her out
to perform for the wealthiest or most noble of patrons. When she did
perform he
brought Anya out to end the show. She danced on her toes like a perfect
ballerina, and sang sweet songs accompanied by clockwork musicians.
Anya
knew no sorrow or discomforted, and delighted to perform to please her
master
Karabas.
One
evening the company preformed for a prince at the
celebration of his seventeenth birthday. The prince had become quite
cynical
and his mother had arranged for Karabas’ troupe to perform in
the hopes that it
could impress and enchant him.
Though
the rest of the audience was truly amazed, nothing
seemed to win over the prince’s jaded heart. When the tin
clowns juggled their
knives the prince only yawned. He shifted listlessly as Punch chased
Judy off
the stage and across the room. The passion of the innamorati
only
earned
his
scornful scoff. Other acts were beneath his
notice entirely as he polished his nails and fretted over his hair.
Finally
Karabas dimmed the stage lights further and
instructed the clockwork musicians what to play. As flutes and violins
began an
eerily beautiful melody the curtain rose to reveal Anya framed in the
center of
the stage. Still as a statue, she began, springing suddenly to life in
a
graceful and acrobatic dance. With no need for breath she sang even as
she
danced this way, a haunting song about a girl transformed into a swan.
Behind her,
other lovely dancing dolls faded into the background of her radiance.
Anya’s
graceful dance and sweet voice captured the
prince’s
heart as no other doll had been able to. He sat rapt, and thought of
nothing but
the doll and her performance.
When
the show had ended, and master Karabas had begun to
pack the dolls away in their trunks and boxes, the prince approached
him.
“Dollmaker,
sell me that doll which danced so beautifully,”
the prince said, pointing at Anya. “For it, I will give you
all the gold in my
purse, which I assure you is quite a sum.”
Karabas
laughed. “Meaning no offense, your highness, this
doll is not for sale. She is more precious to me than any gold you
could hold
in your purse. But I am pleased you enjoyed the show.”
The
prince left, frustrated, and Karabas began to pack Anya
away for travel.
As he
did so, the doll asked him, “Master, why did that man
want to buy me?”
“Because
he liked to see you dance,” the doll maker replied.
But
Anya was still confused. “But don’t many people
like to
see me dance, master? None of them have asked to buy me from
you.”
In
truth, others had asked to buy the doll before, but none
had been so forthright as to do so while Anya watched. But Karabas kept
this to
himself.
“This
prince is foolish and spoiled and wants you to dance
only for him. Pay him no mind, my pet.”
Anya
supposed that the master new best, and put the prince
out of her mind as she was packed away.
The
next day the troupe performed for the commoners of the
prince’s city, and Anya did not dance for such lowly folk.
Instead, she sat out
of sight, in pride of place in Karabas’ head cart.
After
the show had finished, the doll was surprised to hear
the voice of the prince again, just outside the cart.
“Master
Dollmaker, I have come from my palace to ask you
again. I ask you please to sell me the doll that I asked for last
night. In
return, I will give you this bag of jewels. See here, there are rubies
and
emeralds of unmated cut and quality.”
And
then Karabas spoke. “Prince, she is more precious to me
than any rubies and emeralds you could bring. I ask you to take your
jewels and
spend them on some other fancy.”
“That
doll is the only “fancy” I
desire.”
There
was no more speaking, so Anya climbed delicately off
of her chair and crept to the door of the caravan. She pushed open the
door just
a crack and peered out with her green glass eyes. She saw the prince on
his
horse, riding away.
She
closed the door and back to her chair, but the door
opened before she could get back in place.
“Peeking,
were we, my pet?” Karabas walked over and lifted
her gently up to her chair.
“I
heard you talking, master. I wanted to see.”
“Well,
I suppose there is no harm done. Tomorrow we will be
out of this city, and the prince will not return.”
“Master,
why does he want so badly to buy me?”
“Because
he is foolish, little Anya. He thinks you will make
him happy.”
“But
master don’t I make people happy?”
The
puppetmaster chuckled and stroked her smooth porcelain
face fondly. “Of course, little Anya. But I have seen this
prince’s heart, and
it will never be satisfied. Besides, even if you could, I would not
give up my favorite
little doll to such a man.”
The
next day they left the city gates behind their caravans
and traveled through the country. The gentle sway of the caravan lulled
little
Anya into a stupor. She did not awake in the evening when the stopped
in a
small town to perform. She’d didn’t awake at the
familiar noise of the rest of
the puppets and dolls leaving their places to go perform.
What
awoke her was the sound of frantic hoofbeats and
shouting.
“Lord
Dollmaker! Lord Dollmaker!”
Outside,
Anya could hear the music come to a confused halt.
The prince had barged in in the middle of a performance!
“Prince!
For what purpose have you interrupted this humble
puppetmaster’s show?” Karabas’ voice was
cordial, but Anya could tell that he
was raging.
“Master
Karabas I beg you sell me that doll! I will make you
a baron! You shall have land and wealth if only you will sell her to
me!”
“Prince,
I tell you for the third time I will not sell her
to you. She is more precious to me than any land or wealth or a title.
With all
due respect, your highness, you waste your breath, your time, and your
please
on this humble puppetmaster. I have all that I desire. For the third
time no.”
“But
you must, you must I beg of you!” The prince shouted.
“For
these past days I have done nothing but think of her. I beg you to sell
her to
me, for I love her, and if you do not I shall surely die!”
Anya
gasped. She could not bear to hear the prince’s
suffering.
“Then
you must die, prince,” Karabas said “For I will not
give you my most precious doll.”
The
prince spoke not a word more, but Anya heard the sound
of his horse’s hoofbeats retreating, and Master Karabas
apologizing to the
bemused audience.
Anya
was sheltered, and knew little of love in her porcelain
heart, but she sang about it each night that she preformed, and she
knew that
those in love could truly die if their beloved could not be with them.
The naïve
little doll in her gentle nature could not bear to think of the prince
suffering such heatbreak. So while her master was busy reorganizing the
dolls
and starting the show back up where it had been so rudely interrupted,
she
climbed down from her chair and crept softly out of the caravan.
She
was somewhat saddened, because she had to leave all of
her pretty dresses and shoes and other wigs behind her, packed away in
their
trunks, but surely the prince would buy more for her, delighted as he
would be
to possess her.
The
little doll walked down the road back toward the castle
for a very little time, before she stowed away on the back of a wagon
headed toward
the city and the palace. There she was kept company only by her
thoughts.
Surely her kind master would understand why she had run away. Surely he
would
let her stay and be loved by the prince so that he would not die.
When
the wagon passed through the palace gates Anya climbed
down and dusted off her dress, which was looking a bit worse for her
journey.
She marched straight up to one of the palace guardsmen and looked up at
him.
“Please
sir, tell me where I can find the prince!”
The
guard looked down in astonishment. “Why, you’re the
little doll his highness has been so upset about! You have come at
last, and
maybe now we servants and soldiers can get some peace. Here, let me
take you to
him now.”
The
guard reached down and scooped Anya up, not as gently as
Karabas always did, and carried her in to the palace.
He
carried her to the chapel, all filled with stillness and
colored light from the stained glass windows. At the far front of the
chapel,
the prince lay dressed regally in state, as though awaiting his funeral.
“Prince,
prince!” the guard exclaimed, “Your beloved doll
has come for you!”
The
prince leapt up from among the flowers, and snatched her
from the guard, her skirts flying. “Yes, it is you, the doll
I saw dancing on
stage!”
“Yes,
your highness,” she said, “my name is Anya, and
world
curtsey if I were on the floor. I came because I heard you say that you
would
die if I did not.”
“Yes,
you can see that I nearly expired waiting for you,”
the prince said. “Let me take you to my room and you can
dance for me.”
For
the first day Anya did nothing but dance and sing for
the prince. She could not tire, but it did become somewhat tedious
after a
while. The prince, however, was thrilled and delighted, so she did not
complain.
When
it came time for the prince to sleep he said, “I do not
yet have a fine place to display you, so for now I shall have to put
you in my
closet.”
Obediently,
Anya sat in the dark closet. It was dark, but not
so unlike when the master packed her away for rough journeys. However,
she
missed the soft linens wrapped around, and she was afraid that spiders
might
come and nest in her wig. She looked forward to the next day when
perhaps the
prince would buy new clothes for her, or maybe show her pridefully to
his
friends.
When
the next day came, however, and though she heard his
servant dress him, and tell him his schedule for the day, the prince
did not
take her out, or even greet her before he left the room. The day wore
on, and
Anya obediently sat in the closet, waiting for his return, which would
surely
be any moment. She knew that he had affairs of state to attend to, but
she
missed the company of the other dolls, and her master’s
attention.
Late
into the night, the prince finally returned to his room
and Anya called out. “Prince, welcome back. Did you forget
about me?”
“No,
doll, I did not forget, but a prince has many heavy
duties. I will play with you tomorrow.”
The
next day however, was no different than the day before.
Anya was anxious and lonely, and was beginning to wonder if the prince
desired
her as much as he claimed. After many hours of struggling with her
boredom,
Anya opened the door of the closet and crept out, intent on finding the
prince.
Surely he would be glad to see her.
The
doll wandered the drafty corridors of the palace, dodging
servants, and interrupting various people before she finally found the
prince.
She heard the sound of his laughter. He found him in a
disused corner, talking
softly, and leaning close into a woman.
“Prince,”
she said cheerfully, “Let me dance for you and
your friend.”
But
the prince did not seem to be very happy to see her. “Go
away doll. Can you not see that I’m busy?”
The
poor doll was shocked. “But prince! Did you not say that
you would die if you did not possess me?”
“And
possess you I do! Now go back to where I put you and
wait for when I desire you!”
“But
prince!” Wide eyed, Anya clutched at the hem of the
prince’s clothes.
“Get
away from me, doll!” he kicked her roughly away, and
she clattered to the floor. Anya felt desperate sadness in her heart.
The
prince did not want her! He had tried to break her! Why, oh why had she
ever
run away from her gentle master?
The
prince and the woman were leaving the corridor when
suddenly Anya heard a familiar voice.
“Prince,
I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
It was master Karabas. Anya looked up and saw that he had two palace
guards
with him, as well as two half-sized tin soldiers with wicked tin swords.
The
prince scoffed. “If you mean that doll, then take her
away. She is disobedient and tiresome. I don’t want her at
all.”
The
prince’s words stung Anya nearly as much as his kick
did, and she wept bitterly, though no tears fell from her green glass
eyes.
She
felt her master pick her up, and she wrapped one arm
around his neck. Her other arm hung limply; the prince had indeed
managed to
damage her!
The
doll maker carried her out of the palace and to his
caravan. “I found you had run off after the night’s
performance,” he said, “and
I knew where you had gone. They would not let me in to the palace until
today.”
Anya
said nothing. What could she say? The master set her
down on his work bench, and carefully began to repair the
doll’s broken arm.
“Anya,
you knew that you are more precious to me than gold
or jewels or wealth or land or a title. Why then did you run
away?”
“Master,
I am so sorry. The prince said that he would die if
he could not have me, and you have so many other dolls.”
“I
told you the prince was a fool. Why did you not believe
me?”
“I
do now, master! He didn’t want-“
Karabas
cut her off. “Test your arm.”
Anya
flexed her arm gently and it moved at her command. “Oh
you fixed me, oh thank you, master.”
“Hush,
little Anya, and listen to me. You know that if any
other doll disobeyed me so, I would break them up and scatter them into
dust.
But you are my most precious doll, Anya, and I could not bear to part
with you.
So I will not break you. But I can not have you run away from me
again.”
“Oh,
master Karabas, I promise, I will never disobey you
again! Oh I am so sorry that I ever did such a thing at all.”
“I
am glad that you see that you were wrong. And perhaps I
will trust you to obey me again, in time. But for
now…”
The
doll maker turned his doll over his knee and undid the
back of her dress. Quickly and deftly with his tools he undid the
cleverness
that bound her thought and her motion, and Anya went as
still, and lifeless as
any other doll. Karabas put away his tool, and he dressed Anya in a new
fine
dress, putting the one she wore away for washing.
Karabas
picked up his precious doll and arranged her gently
in pride of place on her little chair. He touched her cheek fondly.
Anya
sat, still, and silent, and sorry.
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