food into her mouth, but she wouldn’t take it. She kept muttering, “Spin, spin, spin.”
Soon Gran was asleep again.
In the morning, she did not wake.
CHAPTER TEN
Unfair Bargains
The bell chimed and the gnomes ran through the village shouting, “Elsbith, grandmother of Rump, has gone the way of all the earth!”
The gnomes announced death as they did anything else, with squeaking excitement, and that morning I despised the pudgy, waddling creatures more than ever. I went outside and threw snowballs at every gnome that passed. I missed them all.
If there was ever a time to cry, this was it, but I couldn’t. Everything inside me felt shriveled up and hollow, like a dead tree. I didn’t cry when I saw that Gran would not wake. I didn’t cry when they came and covered her with her quilt and took her away. I didn’t cry when she was lowered into the hard, frozen earth. I didn’t cry when Red’s mother touched my shoulder and placed in my arms a loaf of still-warm bread.
When I came home, the cottage looked like a chicken coop attacked by a fox. Feathers and bones everywhere. Oats and flour sprinkled across the floor. Straw and dirt, pots and dishes and rags. Buckets of melted snow leaked on the ground, creating little muddy rivers. It looked like I felt. Torn to shreds.
Gran’s bed was empty, the indents of her small body still pressed in the mattress.
That’s when I cried. I cried real snot-running, chest-heaving cries until it was all drained out and I was empty, empty, empty. Gran was gone. She would never greet me with a rhyme, or comfort me when I felt small. She would never sit by the fire and tell me stories.
I sat in the middle of the mess. I was still holding the loaf of bread Red’s mother had given me. Mindlessly, I tore chunks off and ate, swallowing huge pieces before I chewed. I ate and ate. I ate the entire loaf, and still I was empty, empty, empty.
The spinning wheel sat motionless by the snuffed-out fire. The wheel felt like a giant eye looming over me. I went to my bed and ripped open my mattress, letting the gold spill out onto the floor. It glimmered with cruel coldness.
I hated that gold. I wanted nothing to do with it. I gathered every last skein inside my blanket and hauled it to the mill. This time the miller was waiting for me.
“Such a sad time for you,” he said with false sympathy, “but it seems that good fortune has befallen you in other ways.” His eyes narrowed on my heavy bundle. I flung it down at his feet and let the gold spill all over his doorstep.The miller jumped back and then smiled. “My, my, you have been busy.”
“What will you give me?” I asked.
“Here.” He handed me a small sack of potatoes, maybe five pounds. “Food is always more expensive in the winter, but keep up the hard work. I will always give you a fair bargain.”
I stared at the miller, seething. I wanted to say he was a lying, cheating, despicable, heartless villain. I wanted to throw the potatoes in his fat face and take my gold back. But my jaw was clamped shut, and my arms were fastened tight around the bag.
The miller bent down and scooped up the gold. Then he shut the door in my speechless face.
This wasn’t magic. It was a curse, and I could feel it wrapping around me fast now, tightening its coils.
I thought I wouldn’t spin again, but eventually my food ran out. I had killed the last hen, and Milk was not giving enough milk to quench thirst, let alone live on. It was pointless to look for gold in the mines. Even if I found some, I knew the miller would still give me nothing. He wanted my gold.
So as time wore on, I was forced to spin more. I gathered bits of straw from the floor and the hens’ nest outside, but all that got me was some shriveled turnips and onions. When the last turnip was gone, I tore open Gran’s mattress and started spinning the straw inside.
I spun Gran’s entire straw mattress into gold. At first, I cried as I did it. I was betraying Gran and
Soon Gran was asleep again.
In the morning, she did not wake.
CHAPTER TEN
Unfair Bargains
The bell chimed and the gnomes ran through the village shouting, “Elsbith, grandmother of Rump, has gone the way of all the earth!”
The gnomes announced death as they did anything else, with squeaking excitement, and that morning I despised the pudgy, waddling creatures more than ever. I went outside and threw snowballs at every gnome that passed. I missed them all.
If there was ever a time to cry, this was it, but I couldn’t. Everything inside me felt shriveled up and hollow, like a dead tree. I didn’t cry when I saw that Gran would not wake. I didn’t cry when they came and covered her with her quilt and took her away. I didn’t cry when she was lowered into the hard, frozen earth. I didn’t cry when Red’s mother touched my shoulder and placed in my arms a loaf of still-warm bread.
When I came home, the cottage looked like a chicken coop attacked by a fox. Feathers and bones everywhere. Oats and flour sprinkled across the floor. Straw and dirt, pots and dishes and rags. Buckets of melted snow leaked on the ground, creating little muddy rivers. It looked like I felt. Torn to shreds.
Gran’s bed was empty, the indents of her small body still pressed in the mattress.
That’s when I cried. I cried real snot-running, chest-heaving cries until it was all drained out and I was empty, empty, empty. Gran was gone. She would never greet me with a rhyme, or comfort me when I felt small. She would never sit by the fire and tell me stories.
I sat in the middle of the mess. I was still holding the loaf of bread Red’s mother had given me. Mindlessly, I tore chunks off and ate, swallowing huge pieces before I chewed. I ate and ate. I ate the entire loaf, and still I was empty, empty, empty.
The spinning wheel sat motionless by the snuffed-out fire. The wheel felt like a giant eye looming over me. I went to my bed and ripped open my mattress, letting the gold spill out onto the floor. It glimmered with cruel coldness.
I hated that gold. I wanted nothing to do with it. I gathered every last skein inside my blanket and hauled it to the mill. This time the miller was waiting for me.
“Such a sad time for you,” he said with false sympathy, “but it seems that good fortune has befallen you in other ways.” His eyes narrowed on my heavy bundle. I flung it down at his feet and let the gold spill all over his doorstep.The miller jumped back and then smiled. “My, my, you have been busy.”
“What will you give me?” I asked.
“Here.” He handed me a small sack of potatoes, maybe five pounds. “Food is always more expensive in the winter, but keep up the hard work. I will always give you a fair bargain.”
I stared at the miller, seething. I wanted to say he was a lying, cheating, despicable, heartless villain. I wanted to throw the potatoes in his fat face and take my gold back. But my jaw was clamped shut, and my arms were fastened tight around the bag.
The miller bent down and scooped up the gold. Then he shut the door in my speechless face.
This wasn’t magic. It was a curse, and I could feel it wrapping around me fast now, tightening its coils.
I thought I wouldn’t spin again, but eventually my food ran out. I had killed the last hen, and Milk was not giving enough milk to quench thirst, let alone live on. It was pointless to look for gold in the mines. Even if I found some, I knew the miller would still give me nothing. He wanted my gold.
So as time wore on, I was forced to spin more. I gathered bits of straw from the floor and the hens’ nest outside, but all that got me was some shriveled turnips and onions. When the last turnip was gone, I tore open Gran’s mattress and started spinning the straw inside.
I spun Gran’s entire straw mattress into gold. At first, I cried as I did it. I was betraying Gran and
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