Up in the tower - part 2

Read part 1 here.

It was inevitable that I would end up here. My hair was causing all kinds of chaos. It gets in people's houses, into carriages, into people's faces. I can barely walk as it is. Half dragging my hair, half trying to avoid being step on. I tried my best but in the end Father recommended that I stayed at home instead of going to school. I was taught by a woman with small eyes and a big nose with a French accents that seem somewhat fake. From sunrise to sunset and a twenty minute break for lunch, I was taught writing, reading, history, French and various subjects. I wasn't allowed anywhere around the house. I was to stay in my room whenever possible which was on the first floor. Father and his new wife were on the upper floor. I rarely see Father now. He was always busy. If I do see him it was for only a few minutes at a time.

I realized over time, I have been a burden. My hair has cause so much trouble that when the new baby came, I was not allow to see him. I can hear him late at night, as I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep. Eventually, it was decided that I was too much trouble for the new baby. My hair, even when cut every week, has a will of its own. It crawls into furniture, curtains, and even occasionally gets stuck at the door frame. Father said I had to live somewhere else. He had found me a place just a couple of miles away from the house. I was to live there and make my living making dresses. I was only fourteen but I knew I was not wanted.

The day that I left home, I was devastated but complied. What can I do? I begged Father to let me stayed but he would not budge. He said I have cause the family a great deal of pain and embarrassment. If I leave, the family would be better off. I cried all the way to my new home. My hair was dragged along the dusty road, partially in the carriage. As I watched the road behind me, I wonder what will become of me. My hair created a cloud of dust on the road. It was a bright sunny day. Sunlight shine upon my golden brown hair. Even when it's dusty and dirty, it still shine like silk. Father was at the front of the carriage. I can see his back, straight and unnerved by the wild movement of the carriage.

The tower was at least 30 feet tall. A long ladder made from three combined ladders tied together with rope sat against the tower. The tower has only one window with no doors or other openings. I asked Father what it was used for before but he doesn't know. He ushered me to climb the ladder. He told me a servant will be bringing me a basket with food and supplies every week. I was to used the rope in the tower to get the basket up. I wanted to ask how long I was to stay here but couldn't get the words out. Father seem so stern and lately has been a worry look on his face.

As I looked down at Father, a sudden sadness came over me. Father waved goodbye and rode off in the carriage. I stare at the dust leftover by the carriage. I was alone.

Inside the tower, there was one bed, one dresser with a mirror and a couple of baskets with materials for making dresses. That was the one skill I knew I excelled at. During those long nights when I couldn't sleep, I would sit down and sew dresses until the sun rises. Each day was spent trying to figure out what I should be doing to help father. He was never this worry before.

Sometime during the night, the ladder was stolen. Gone from the tower. No one knew where it went. There was no way for me to go down now. I had wonder if Father had taken it but then I knew Father wasn't that kind of guy.

As Father instructed, a servant came each week with supplies and food. I would throw a rope down and the servant would tie it around the basket's handle and I would pull it up. It was working out alright but I was lonely and wish to see Father. But each time I ask for him, they said he was too busy. Step-mother often came to visit. I would pull my hair out of the window and she would climb up. It was painful but Step-mother was a skinny woman and didn't weight that much. She would take the dresses that I have made and told me she would sell them in the market and that half of it will be spent on food and supplies for me and the other half for the family. I was happy that I had helped the family but whenever I asked about Father, Step-mother always said Father was too busy to come.

The servant that use to bring me food and supplies had to be let go. The family has some finance problems. Step-mother said she would be the one to bring me my things. I was very suspicious of her but did not wish to anger Step-mother so I just smile. Each week the supplies were more spare. Step-mother said the family was having even more trouble with money and that I should work harder and make more dresses. She still brings me sewing supplies. I tried my best but only manage to make three dresses a week.

Then one day, Step-mother did not come. Instead a servant who I was not familiar with came and told me that Father had passed a few nights ago. I was devastated. I hadn't seen Father for over a years. The servant also said Father's ashes was scattered into the sea and that I he had left me a token. I pull up the box. Inside was the music box that Father had given mother for their first anniversary. Father used to play it for me when I couldn't sleep at night. I was happy to know at least a part of Father and Mother is still with me. At night when I get lonely I would listen to the music until I fell asleep.

The supplies were getting more spare day by day. The reason given by my Step-mother was that family can longer support itself. I tried my best to make more dresses and even had to gave up some of my own belongings to sell at the market. Still I worked hard. I've lost some weight and fell quite ill once. Still I pressed on. As I got better, my Step-mother visited me one last time. She told me I was on my own. She will still try to sell the last few dresses I have made and will do her best to bring me food and supplies.

I was so skinny and yet my hair kept growing. Each day it seem to have grow at least two inches. I've got so tire dragging my hair around that I just sat in the same spot all day. Eventually an old man came and told me my Step-mother had move away and that I would no longer receive any food or supplies from her. What was I to do? The servant, old as he was, who now does not work for my Step-mother but was kind-hearted and wished to help me. If I can make enough dresses each week, he would help me sell them and would bring me food and supplies. I was glad for the help and agree to make at least four dresses each week. His name was Sam.

Sam came each week with food and supplies. He even brought his wife, Amelia one time. She was very kind and had made a necklace out of lace and threads for me. I was grateful that someone still cares. I gave my only possession, my music box to the old couple for their kindness. I knew the old couple would not last long and yet had hope they would live long enough for me to cherished them. Soon there was no one to help me. I was left alone in this tower. What was I to do?

One day, a young man came to the tower. He said he was the old couple's son and had wanted to know if he can help me. I do not recognize him and felt he might not be who he said he was. As there was also a young man who came a year ago. A knight of some sort. I had ushered him away seeing he does not seem to have the time to stay and help me. I was not used to visitors and felt Step-mother would not have allowed it.

Now looking at this young man, I did not know what to do. I was on my own. My supplies was nearing the end. All I have left was one half of a apple. I can see from up here that he seem sincere and yet I was still very fearful of strangers. As I peer through my glasses, I can see he was alone. No horses or servants. There was no one from miles away. The day was turning into night.

The old couple did mention a son but I wasn't sure if this was him. He does have a kind face. But appearances can be deceiving. I asked him what can he do. He said can help me get down from the tower. I have often tried to climb down but the walls was just too slippery. The rope that I tied to the bedpost was too short and is too worn down. Many days I have spent thinking up ways to get down. The old couple had tried to help but couldn't find enough ladders to reach me. I was also weak with hunger.

The young man, well, maybe I shouldn't call him that after all I was almost the same age as he. It's been five years since I was here. I was fourteen then. But now still immature and unsure of myself. My bones had became weak with hunger and my skinny hands lack the strength to do heavy lifting. If I wasn't so weak, I would not have been this indecisive. Now the man stood down there and I am up here searching for signs. What would it hurt? I was already doom being up here why not take the chance?

He shouted up at me for me to throw my hair down so he can climb up. I was too tired to argue with him so I gathered my hair and threw it out the window. Weak as I was, my hair seem to have all the strength that I couldn't muster. The man seem lighter than expected. I stood there holding my hair trying my best not to move.

At last he was up here and inside the tower. Silence followed but it was not those awkward silence that often happen between people. This was just silence. He smiled at me with those crooked teeth and green eyes. I could not help but like him. Then he took out a rope from his belt and proceed to tie it onto the bedpost. He then tied together the rope that I had and the one that he brought. He wondered if he can cut my some of my hair so he can also use it to lengthening the rope. I did not hesitated. He gently cut off most of my hair using a sharp knife from his pocket. I can smell a sweet scent coming from him. It had been awhile since I was this close with another human being. It was a nice scent to breath in.

When he was done tying hair and rope together, he helped me climbed down. He tied the rope around my wist and slowly lower me down. It was slow at first, the tower wall was slippery. It had rained the night before. I press my bare feet against the wall but still slip a couple of times. My feet was swollen from the climb but I continued. I knew I had to climb if I wanted to live. The man was very strong and skillful. He managed to get me down safely. He then climbed down almost in one quick motion. I was too weak to stand up. The man pull out a handkerchief and placed it on the wet ground, gesturing me to sit. I sat on the ground feeling very tired. The sun had just set causing a ray of golden sunlight to shine upon us. It was a nice, cool evening. I felt the breeze against my cheeks like never before. I was happy.

The man smiled at me and sat down next to me. He told me his name was Joseph and proceed to take out a piece of bread from his coat and offered it to me. I was too hungry to refuse. I wolf down the bread. He then took out a square bag. It was my music box - still in good shape but worn out at the edges, the music was gone. He handed it to me and told me I can have it back. I thanked him and was surprised by how kind his eyes looked.

It was a only a year or two later but I managed to get myself together. For many years I have not appreciated my hair. It had cause me grief but now I have a new appreciation for it. I have to cut it every weak so it wouldn't grow too long. I think now it was me that was keeping me in that tower. I was too afraid to venture out for fear people would not accept me. It was also my hair that gave me the freedom from the tower. Joseph calls me his golden girl because of my hair color. Every day I was grateful that it existed. Everyday I tried to appreciated its beauty. My memories of my father remained with me along with the music box that he had left me. Joseph fixed it and now it plays sweet music for my children.