Read Rapunzel, the One With All the Hair for Free Online

stretches ahead of me like a big empty void. If I were at home, WHERE I SHOULD BE, I would be helping Mother in the kitchen, practicing my harmonica, mending my clothes, reading stories about princes and princesses and damsels in distress, playing jacks with the neighborhood children, tending the garden with Father, or perhaps getting a jump on next year’s lessons. Okay, I probably wouldn’t be doing the last one. But I cannot do any of those things here.
    It hits me that I am one of those damsels in distress. What damsel could be in more distress than I? I rack my brain to think of what someone would do in one of those stories. I’ll tell you what she WOULDN’T do. She wouldn’t just sit here wondering what to do. She would be thinking of a way to escape! I have already tried pushing on the stone walls and none of the stones budge.
    As far as I can tell, the only way in or out is through that window. That’ll have to be it, then. I shall climb out the window and make my way down the side of the tower. As Father used to say, the simplest solution is often the best.
    If I think about it too long, I shall chicken out. So I put on my shoes, slip Sir Kitty into the deep pocket of my dress,and prepare for my descent. Before I climb up onto the ledge, I wrap my braid around the back of my head and use every one of my pins to secure it. I know it’s impossible, but it seems like my hair has grown another FOOT since yesterday. It actually drags on the FLOOR when I walk!
    Once the braid is as out of the way as it’s ever going to be, I back up to the window and hoist myself up a few inches until I am sitting on the ledge. Then I swivel around and let my feet dangle outside. Both hands grip the inside walls on either side of the window. I make the mistake of glancing down and wind up gripping the walls even harder.
    DO NOT LOOK DOWN.
    I sit still for a few minutes, gathering my strength. It is actually quite pleasant to be outdoors again, after a fashion. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh air. Then I move my hands to the ledge on either side of me and, in one fell swoop, manage to flip my body around so I am now facing the tower and dangling from the ledge by my hands. I am careful to stay far enough away from the wall so Sir Kitty doesn’t get squashed. My feet search frantically for stones to perch on, but they just keep slipping. How could there be no footholds? This tower must be ancient; surely the weather has worn down the smooth edges.
    While I am contemplating what to do next, my left shoe simply FALLS RIGHT OFF MY FOOT. I watch in horroras it bumps the side of the tower a few times and lands in the bushes with a soft woomph. Did the witch hear that? Is she anywhere around? I don’t dare move. Or breathe. Okay, I have to move. And breathe. My hands are about to give out. Maybe losing the shoe wasn’t such a bad thing. I’d probably have better luck getting a toehold with an actual toe. I slide my bare foot against the wall, feeling for cracks. But it is for naught. Perhaps the simplest idea only appears to be the best. Using the last of my strength, I heave myself up and back through the window. I place Sir Kitty on the “bed” and she looks at me accusingly and starts washing again. That cat is very clean.
    So much for my great escape. At least I tried. If I can’t leave on my own, perhaps I can get someone’s attention. A hunter, or a knight, or a traveling merchant. I’d even settle for a wayward bandit. But how? I don’t dare scream — the witch would probably hear it before any rescuer did — and even if I still had candles left, they wouldn’t give off enough smoke to make smoke signals. Nor would my matches. I look around the small room for ideas and find myself turning in circles. So I keep turning. Faster and faster I whirl, my dress swirling around my legs, my head spinning. I do not stop twirling until I am so