Payment to the Witch Next Door

               Gothel held up the infant, holding the child awkwardly away from her body.  The witch stared at the wiggling baby.  What was she to do with the child?  She knew nothing of children, never having had even nieces or nephews, much less any children of her own.  And the townsfolk usually never brought their children anywhere near her.  The ones she saw from a distance were always hurriedly ushered from out of her sight. 

               Why, oh why, did this man decide to change that now?  I mean, who ever heard of a baby being given as payment for a salad.  The mere thought of it was just ridiculous.  Surely the need to fulfill his wife’s cravings for Gothel’s rapunzel didn’t equal the value of their one and only daughter.  He must have felt it did.  After all, he didn’t just take a little bit of her rapunzel, but he cleaned out her entire patch.  The witch had been furious when she caught him in the very act and demanded payment.  The coward had begged for his life and promised her the unborn baby. 

               It was a mistake on her part, but Gothel agreed to his promised payment.  She had assumed that when the time came, the parents wouldn’t be able to part with their newborn and would try to bargain with her.  Instead, before she could even stage a dramatic entrance into their home, they came to her doorstep and wordlessly handed her the child.

               The girl giggled and cooed at her and grasped at her face, breaking Gothel from her thoughts.  Hesitantly she pulled the child close, “Well, little one, I guess you’re my rapunzel now.”