Ladle Rat Rotten Hut (6 page)

“What?
I always wanted to be a girl, so I could find myself some awesome guy like
me
.”

“Wuteva,”
I wave my hand in the air. “So the truth is that Bianca is not a witch. Not in
the sense of the bad green witch on a broomstick.”

“Who
said that’s bad? I love the green Elphaba witch.”

“I
figured. Anyway, Bianca has a power that makes her the best glassblower in Venice.”

“Don’t
tell me she is the best
blower
in Venice.”

I
totally neglect his constant stupid sexual innuendos. “She can create fire at
will with the power of her mind,” I look him straight in the eyes. “But she
never used it in a bad way. It just allowed her to create infinite amounts of
precious glass art without the usual cost of fire. But sometimes, she messes up
and burns thing too.”

As I am
talking, the authorities enter the streets, arresting all glass blowers without
reason.

“Wow.
What you said will happen is just starting. Are you a clairvoyant or
something?” Loki wonders. “Why are they so aggressive with the glassblowers?”

This
time, I pull Loki behind me and cross the streets. “Come on. We have to find
her and save her.”

“Kick
ass girl. I like that,” He comments as he follows me. “For your information,
the fact that you’re still a kickass girl in the Dreamworld is the second thing
that makes me want to know you. I might—“

“—like
me after all. I know.” I mumble as I pull him behind me, wondering why he’s
become obedient all of a sudden.

“How
did you know I was going to say that?”

Ignore
comment. Period. “You see those marks smeared with cinder all over the walls?
The ones that look like the palm of the hand?” I point out at the five-finger
cinder-smeared shapes all over the walls of Venice.

“Yes?”

“It’s
called
Moutza,
” I explain as we run through the fire that’s spreading
all over. Masses of glassblowers resist the arrests and fight back, defending
themselves against being accused of witchcraft. Shards of glass are scattered
all over the ground. Such a waste of beautiful art.

“And
what’s a Moutza?”

“It’s
an ancient Greek sign, a traditional insult gesture which consists of extending
all five fingers and presenting the palm toward the person you want to insult.
It was used for accusing men and women of witchcraft in the past, where a
chained witch was paraded around town. She would be sitting, facing backwards,
on a horse or a calash, with her face smeared with Cinder to enhance their
ridicule and repent from the sin of committing witchcraft. It was the ceremony
that took place before the locals kill her to lift the curse off the town. The
locals would raise their five-finger hands in the air at her as they protest
against such an act, yelling
Moutza Moutza
.
It’s a metaphor word instead of saying Ash to Ash and Cinder to Cinder.”

“When did they
change that? Wasn’t this called Ash to Ash and Dust to Dust?”

“Do you see any
dust here? Dust was for those buried in graves. Cinder is for those who burn.
That’s where the word Cinderella originally came from.”

“Wow. Wow.” He
says. “Now don’t you dare to destroy my childhood memories here. I never heard
such claims before.”

I turn around and
face him. “Didn’t you ever listen to the song; A Dream is a Wish your Heart
Makes in the Cinderella movie?” I am afraid this would take long days and night
for me to explain to Loki.

“What?” It amazes
me how an arrogant boy like Loki cares about fairy tales. I understand though.
It’s so hard to convince anyone that the fairy tales were forged.

“Listen to the words
of the song,” I say. “A Dream? We’re in a Dreamworld right now. Heart? There is
a heart that weighs 21 grams we all are searching for. True? We’re here in the
Dreamworld, looking for the truth.” I know my words don’t make sense.

Loki’s face eases.
He holds me by the shoulder with two gentle hands then kills me softly, looking
in my eyes. “Alice?” His voice is so tender that I wonder where that comes
from. “I know you’ve been through a lot,” His words calm me down. “But please,
please, please,” Loki is saying please? I am melting here. “Gimme some of that
Lewis Carroll Hookah you’ve been smoking … “

“What?” I feel like
I am being hit in the head with a sponge hammer.

“This is just a
dream,” He shouts. “It’s not wonder-freakin-land.”

I yank his hands
away and turn around, walking toward my goal. It’s totally my fault trying to
explain to him what is going. To be honest, sometimes I think that I am living
a lie. But this is the truth. “What do you care anyway? You said you’re just a
Dreamhunter, helping me.”

“But that’s
Cinderella we’re talking about.
The
Cinderella.” He says, following me
again.

“You’re a guy.
Since when do boys care about Cinderella?”

“I don’t really
care about anyone. It’s just that you’re totally messing with my brain.”

“I know.” I sighed,
as this isn’t the first time I will have to persuade someone with the fact that
my ancestors altered the tales. “Here she is,” I scream. “Bianca!” I summon
her.

The authorities
pull Bianca from her hair, smear her with cinder and ashes, and drag her on the
ground. Her hands are chained behind her back, and her hair looks like it has
been on fire. They are pulling her to the carriage to humiliate her and kill
her. The reason why she is chained is that she can’t trigger fire at will
unless she raises her hands in the air and does the fiver-finger Moutza sign.
If they release her, she would burn them all. Maybe burn Venice.

“So all those Moutza
signs were to address that
she
is a witch?”

“Exactly,” I say,
running toward her. “There is a boat. Look at it. They will send all the other
glassblowers to Murano island forever as banishment. But they will have to kill
and torture the witch, Bianca, in public first.”

“But she is not a
witch,” Loki finally sympathizes. “She only has some supernatural power and
didn’t hurt anyone.”

“We have to stop
them, Loki,” I yell. “We have to get her on the boat to Murano. That’s my
mission.”

“Why?”

“We just have to.”

I kick one of the
arresting authorities in the back, but he hits me as Bianca screams on the ground.

“Who is she?” One
of the authorities asks the other, pointing at the strange cloths I am wearing.

“She is a witch
too,” The other shouts and kicks me while I am on the floor. He flashes a cross
at me as I am trying to reach for Bianca.

“I am not a damn
Vampire!” I yell, looking up at the smoke covering Venice.

“A vamwaht?” The
man estranges.

“Don’t you dare
repeat the foul words she utters, Constantine,” One of the authorities warns
him. “You’d be reciting a devil’s spell, and God forbid what should happen to
those who lost their way in the dark alleys of blasphemy.”

I want to scream
and pull my hair, not knowing which bothers me more, the clichéd speech of the
devil or the fact that the other man’s name is Constantine.

“And what about
him?” Constantine asks his assistant about Loki. “Look at the way he is
dressed. He must be a devil worshiper too. A malevolent wizard.”

“But of course, I
am,” Loki says as he punches him in his jaw. The man falls down silently. Wow.
One hit in the jaw. “
Hocus Pocus Zim Zalabim
,” Loki can’t help it,
talking to the unconscious man lying on the floor. “That’s what wizards in
jeans do to guys who call themselves Constantine.”

As I unchain
Bianca, Loki gets into a fiercer fight with the other man. He bangs the man’s
head against the carriage before the man falls semi-conscious to the floor.
“You have just been
Avada Kadavarad
, Monsieur. I wish I brought a magic
wand with me to this ignorance fest.”

“Monsieur is
French, you idiot.” I don’t know why I feel the need to make fun of him. I
think his attitude has gotten to me. Maybe I am scared to fail in my mission.

“Sorry,” Loki bows down
to the man in the middle of the smoke. “I don’t speak Italian, but I can speak
if you like. Aww.” He kicks the man to sleep one more time and turns back to
me. “We have to go back now, princess, or will die in this awfully ignorant dream.”

“No. We have to get
her on that boat to Murano first.” I say and pull up Bianca into the carriage.
It’s amazing how she trusts me and doesn’t think we’re going to burn her or
kill her. “Don’t be afraid. We will help you.” I tell her in Italian.

“Italian much?” Loki
wonders, helping her.

“I speak a lot of
languages,” I say and hand him a whip. He returns a suspicious look. “Here?” I can’t
let him waist our time. “Don’t start. You can ride this carriage to the boat,
right?”

“Of course, my
princess,” He smiles and grabs it. “My apologies for the misunderstanding,
Bianca,” He bows his head with respect. I don’t know if he is mocking us.
“Anything to get us out this damn dream.”

I close the door of
the carriage, listening to Loki hitting some other guys then ride up. As he
whips the horses forward, he shouts, “Mama Mia!”

Even Bianca laughs.

Bianca thanks me,
squeezing my hand. “If you didn’t save me, I would have felt the rage eventually
and lost control of my power, and that’s not good.”

“I know,” I nod,
noticing that she is pregnant. That is exactly what I am here for. I think my
mission will succeed. “We will send you to Murano. This where you will have the
baby.”

“Thank you.” She
keeps repeating and wanting to kiss my hand. I guess it’s an old Italian gesture
of appreciation. I try not to cry as I can’t tell her what’s going to happen to
her after she brings the baby to the world.

We arrive at the boat,
and she gets on it while Loki keeps urging me that it’s about time to start the
ritual to get out of the dream. He says that if we stay too long in the dream,
we could stay lost here forever. I don’t tell him that I know about that since
this is exactly what happened to Cinderella.

“Ok,” I say. “Just
one more thing,” I turn back to Bianca as she embarks on the boat. “Have you
chosen a name for your daughter?”

A broad and full
smile arrests her features as she nods. “Cinder.” She says, raising her smeared
five-finger hands in the air, then she points at the cinder covering her face
in a proud way.

I nod happily and
let out a sigh. I did it. I have started what I came here for. It’s like
putting the first brick in a million-brick wall, but it’s a start.

“I have a slightly
better name if I may suggest,” I offer, shouting through the sudden wind which
I assume is a sign that the dream is about to end. “Why not name her
Cinderella?”

“Cinderella?” Loki
estranges me since he didn’t understand the rest of the Italian we spoke. “Now
I have to shoot myself.” He mumbles.

“Shut up.” I say to
him and turn back, watching her face knotting as she considers my suggestion.

Slowly, she raises
her eyes to meet mine. Her face lights up. “Cinderella!” she nods three times
and gets on the boat, but then she suddenly turns around and hands me one single,
beautiful glass shoe. I understand she has made it herself. I smile, unable to
confront her with the fact that she will die giving birth to Cinderella who
will live a rough live being an orphan after that. But it had to be done. Many
centuries ago, an Evil Queen cursed Cinderella in one of the immortal dreams
and buried her deep in it, so long that Cinderella has forgotten who she is.
There was no way to bring her back from that deep sleep. I needed to find out
in which dream Cinderella’s real mother was buried and help her avoid an
imminent death, so she eventually gives birth to a new Cinderella. A new
Cinderella who will be a huge part in the fairy tale war, which repeats itself
every one hundred years. I came here to make sure she is born and deliver her
to Murano so the story takes the right, true, and untold start.

It’s not easy to
explain to you what and how this all goes. At least, if you read my little
entry in this diary, it’s a start for you to ride on a dangerous and great
adventure.

I take the glass
shoe willingly. It’s a present from a woman in a dream.

“Will I be able to
take this with me to the real world?” I ask Loki.

“I don’t think so
but we can try,” He says as he pulls me to the returning ritual. "Doesn’t
this glass slipper look like the seventeen slippers we found next to Bianca’s
body in the real world?”

“Yes. It does.”

“Why seventeen
slippers?”

“Because Cinderella
is about to do something incredibly important for the world when she is
seventeen. Every year was marked with a slipper. It’s been predicted in a
prophecy. And don’t you ask me about the prophecy now.”

“Incredibly good,
or incredibly bad?”

“That depends on
her, and the choices she will make. My job was just to connect the dots. To
make sure she gets born.”