Sleep Story: Rae Punzel And The Rooftop Tower
Rae Punzel and the Rooftop Tower is a modern and queer retelling of Rapunzel by the brothers Grimm. The story is set in a bustling city where magical creatures and modern technology intertwine. Listeners can drift off to sleep or simply enjoy the story of Rae, whose shimmering hair holds a mysterious power, as they navigate love, identity, and freedom. This fresh take on a classic tale offers a journey of resilience and hope, perfect for those who enjoy contemporary twists on timeless stories.
Transcript
Ray Punzel and the Rooftop Tower A Queer Modern Retelling of the Story of Rapunzel Once upon a time,
In a sprawling city filled with bustling streets and towering skyscrapers,
Siobhan and Joe Punzel dreamed of the day they would become parents.
Their tiny apartment,
Tucked above a bustling café,
Was filled with warm light and soft laughter as Joe's pregnancy progressed.
They imagined bedtime stories,
Tiny shoes by the door,
And a love that would grow from two to three.
One crisp autumn afternoon,
Joe walked past a gated garden hidden in the shadows of high-rise buildings.
Among the tangled,
Shade-loving herbs and greenery,
A kale planted out,
Its deep,
Waxy leaves glistened with dew in the fading sunlight.
And it had a soft glow to it that reminded her of a neon sign.
The sight of it sparked an overwhelming craving,
Unlike anything she had felt before.
I can't stop thinking about it,
Joe admitted that evening,
Cradling her growing belly.
It's like I need it.
Siobhan,
Ever the practical partner,
Nodded with determination.
If it's that important,
I'll get it for you.
There was just one problem.
The garden belonged to Miss Gwyn,
A local figure feared throughout the city.
Her sharp,
Icy gaze was as infamous as her campaigns to maintain traditional values.
On the news,
She railed against the queer and sentient non-human community,
Spinning fear and prejudice into power.
Few dared to cross her,
Not out of respect,
But out of fear of retribution.
Still,
Late that night,
Siobhan scaled the fence.
Her heart raced as she darted through the rows of plants,
Dodging small blue pixies and plucking just enough kale to fill her hands before slipping back into the shadows.
Joe devoured the kale with a blissful sigh,
And Siobhan felt a swell of pride at having provided for her family.
But the craving returned the next day,
Stronger and more urgent.
Joe pleaded with Siobhan,
And though uneasy,
She couldn't bear to see her wife in distress.
Once again,
Siobhan climbed the fence.
This time,
However,
Miss Gwyn was waiting.
Her figure emerged from the shadows,
Her sharp heels clicking on the stone pathway.
So,
This is the thief,
She said,
Her voice cold and even.
Siobhan's breath caught in her throat.
Please,
She stammered.
My wife,
She's pregnant,
And the kale is all she wants.
I'll do anything.
Miss Gwyn tilted her head,
A chilling smile spreading across her face.
Anything,
You say?
How noble.
Her eyes gleamed with an unnatural light.
Take the kale,
But there will be a price.
What kind of price,
Siobhan asked her,
Her voice barely above a whisper.
When your child is born,
Miss Gwyn said,
Her smile sharpening,
They will belong to me.
Siobhan felt the world tilt around her.
Why?
What could he possibly want with our child?
Children raised in homes like yours,
Miss Gwyn said with disdain,
Have a certain spark,
A magic I could use to bring order to the city.
The chaos you and your kind spread must be stopped.
Desperate and terrified,
Siobhan agreed,
Hoping against hope that Miss Gwyn wouldn't actually follow through.
But then,
When Rey was born,
Miss Gwyn arrived at their doorstep as promised.
Her cold hands lifted the baby from Joe's arms,
And before either parent could stop her,
She disappeared into the night.
Miss Gwyn carried Rey far away,
To an abandoned water tower perched atop a crumbling industrial building on the city's outskirts.
The tower stood like a forgotten sentinel against the skyline,
Its rusted frame a sharp contrast to the vibrant,
Bustling city in the distance.
Inside,
Miss Gwyn transformed the hollow structure into a makeshift home.
A round window looked into a single circular room,
Filled with mismatched furniture scavenged from Miss Gwyn's own attic.
A creaky bed,
A small table,
And a shelf lined with dusty books deemed safe and appropriate.
From the moment Rey's hair began to grow,
Miss Gwyn knew it was extraordinary.
A shimmering copper red that cascaded like molten gold.
It grew impossibly fast,
No matter how often it was trimmed,
It reached floor length within days.
When sunlight hit it,
Rey's hair glowed faintly,
And under strong emotions,
It sparkled like embers.
One day,
As a young Rey wept from loneliness,
Miss Gwyn brushed her hair in frustration,
And felt a surge of raw power.
It was like a current coursing through her,
Filling her with energy and confidence.
Miss Gwyn quickly realized the potential of Rey's magical hair.
She began collecting blocks of it,
Cutting strands to carry with her,
And weaving them into bracelets,
Necklaces,
And even strands hidden in her clothing.
Each time she touched Rey's hair,
Her voice sharpened,
Her presence deepened,
And her influence expanded.
At rallies and press conferences,
She wielded this newfound power like a weapon,
Championing anti-trans,
Anti-elf,
And anti-queer legislation.
Her words became unshakable,
Her arguments impossible to refute.
The city began to shift under her grip,
And her disdainful rhetoric gained terrifying momentum.
To keep Rey obedient,
Miss Gwyn spun a web of lies.
You're special,
She'd tell Rey,
Her voice dripping with faux affection.
Your magic is a gift,
But it's dangerous to others.
The world below wouldn't understand you,
They'd want to hurt you,
To take your gift away.
Up here,
You're protected.
Rey believed her.
She spent her days in solitude,
Gazing at the city from the small circular window that was her only view of the world.
She'd sketch the skyline obsessively,
Filling page after page with intricate drawings of the buildings she longed to explore.
Sometimes,
She sang to the birds and the tiny dragons that perched on the tower,
Her voice echoing like a soft melody across the rooftops.
Miss Gwyn had a ritual for whenever she visited.
Standing at the base of the tower,
She'd call out in her crisp,
Commanding tone,
Rey,
Rey,
Let down your hair.
Rey would gather her hair,
Often styled into a few thick,
Shimmering braids,
And lower it out of the window.
The heavy braids acted as a rope ladder,
And Miss Gwyn would climb with ease,
Her boots sliding into the plaits as if they were rungs.
For Rey,
This strange routine was normal,
The only life she'd ever known.
But,
As the years passed,
The isolation gnawed at Rey.
Though she accepted Miss Gwyn's version of the world,
Something inside her ached for more,
A spark of curiosity and longing that no amount of drawing or singing could satisfy.
One evening,
Rey's singing floated down to the streets below,
Carried on the cool night air like a secret melody.
The sound caught the ear of Skye,
A wandering photographer with an eye for the unusual,
Who was exploring the crumbling industrial district in search of inspiration.
The haunting tune seemed to beckon,
And Skye followed it,
Weaving through the maze of broken windows and rusted steel until they arrived at the base of the water tower.
There it was,
A solitary figure at the circular window,
Their face tilted toward the city lights,
Singing with a voice so pure it made Skye's chest ache.
Intrigued,
Skye ducked behind a pile of old bricks and watched the tower for hours.
Over the next few days,
Skye returned to the same hidden spot.
They observed quietly as Miss Gwyn arrived,
Calling out sharply,
Rey!
Rey!
Let down your hair!
They watched,
Awestruck as shimmering copper braids spilled down like a living rope.
The whole process seemed impossibly magical,
And Skye couldn't help but wonder about the person behind the hair and the voice.
By the third evening,
Skye had pieced together the pattern.
After Miss Gwyn left,
They decided to take a chance.
Positioning themselves where Miss Gwyn usually stood,
They called up in the same tone,
Rey!
Rey!
Let down your hair!
For a moment,
Nothing happened.
Then the window creaked open,
And the golden braids unfurled like liquid sunlight,
Cascading down the side of the tower.
Skye's heart pounded as they grasped the thick silken strands and began to climb,
Their excitement tempered only by the nervous energy of what awaited them at the top.
When Skye finally pulled themselves through the window,
They landed in a small,
Circular room illuminated by soft lamplight.
Rey stood frozen in the middle of the space,
Her wide eyes fixed on Skye.
Hi,
Skye said with an easy smile,
Brushing off their hands.
Sorry to disturb you.
I'm Skye.
I use they-them pronouns.
Your voice,
It's incredible.
I just had to meet you.
Rey blinked,
Her shock mingling with curiosity.
They-them?
She echoed cautiously.
Wait,
You can choose that?
Sure can,
Skye said,
Leaning casually against the wall.
It's about what feels right for you.
Pronouns aren't something you're stuck with.
Rey hesitated,
Her fingers brushing through her hair.
Could I.
.
.
Could I try they-them pronouns?
They asked softly,
Their voice trembling with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
Skye's grin widened.
Of course,
It's your choice.
Hearing themselves referred to as they for the first time was like a key unlocking something deep within Rey's heart.
They felt a spark ignite,
A sense of alignment that had been missing in their isolated world.
For a moment,
They couldn't speak,
Their mind racing with possibilities.
You seem cool,
Skye said gently,
Breaking the silence.
Mind if I hang out for a while?
I'd love to hear more about you.
Rey nodded,
Their nerves melting into something warmer,
Something closer to trust.
I think I'd like that,
They said,
Their voice steadying as a tentative smile spread across their face.
For the first time,
The water tower didn't feel quite so lonely.
Skye continued to visit in secret,
Bringing stories of the outside world and a sense of belonging Rey had never felt before.
Rey loved to paint,
But their entire collection consisted of variations of the same view,
The city skyline as seen from the tiny round window of the water tower.
Despite the limitations,
Rey's paintings were stunning,
Filled with vibrant colors and a deep sense of longing.
One day,
Skye arrived with their laptop in hand.
You should see the rest of the city,
They said,
Opening it to reveal a collection of their photographs.
Rey's eyes widened as picture after picture appeared on the screen.
There were towering skyscrapers drenched in golden sunset light,
Bustling markets filled with colorful stalls and all manner of creatures and quiet alleyways draped in strings of light.
Oh,
This is incredible,
Rey exclaimed,
Their fingers hovering near the screen as if they could reach out and touch the images.
Skye grinned.
Wait until you see the park.
They scrolled to a series of photos taken in the city's largest green space and Rey's breath caught.
Old,
Gnarled trees stretched their roots over stone pathways,
Their branches tangled in intricate,
Lacy patterns against the sky.
A gothic bridge arched gracefully over a glimmering duck pond where tiny ripples shimmered like silver.
Skye had captured huge reptilian creatures mid-flight,
Leaves scattering in the wind,
And the kind of quiet beauty Rey had only imagined.
These are my favorite,
Rey whispered,
Their gaze fixed on a photo of a weathered bench under a willow tree,
Its branches trailing into the water like a green curtain.
I didn't know places like this existed.
Then I guess I'll have to bring more inspiration next time,
Skye said,
A spark of excitement in their voice.
The photos opened a new world for Rey.
They painted furiously,
Their once repetitive scenes transforming into vivid landscapes of imagined parks,
Bustling streets,
And dreamy cityscapes.
They and Skye often collaborated.
Rey would sketch ideas while Skye described the stories behind each photograph.
This one was during an outdoor concert,
Skye explained,
Pointing to a photo of people dancing on a lawn strung with fairy lights.
And this one,
Oh,
You'd love this café.
They employed disabled ogres and make the best cinnamon rolls.
Skye also started bringing supplies for other creative projects.
One day it was a set of colored pencils,
Another day a stack of journals.
For writing down your thoughts,
Skye had said.
Rey filled page after page with sketches,
Poems,
And daydreams of what life could be like outside the water tower.
Beyond art,
Skye introduced Rey to music.
They played Rey their favorite songs on their phone,
Letting the sounds fill the small space.
Rey was enchanted by the melodies,
Their fingers tapping along to the beat.
One evening,
Skye taught Rey how to make a playlist,
And they spent hours curating the perfect escape soundtrack.
Rey's favorite track was one with a soft,
Soaring tune that reminded them of the duck pond they'd seen in Skye's photographs.
I'm going to listen to this when I finally see that park,
They said with a determined smile.
Skye laughed,
And I'll be right there with you.
The more time they spent together,
The more Rey began to feel alive in a way they never had before.
They started imagining a life beyond the water tower,
Not just escaping it,
But thriving in the world outside.
Do you ever feel like the world is bigger than we think?
Rey asked one day,
Staring at a painting they'd just finished.
It was of the gothic bridge,
But they'd painted it,
Stretching into the horizon where a blazing orange sun set over the city.
Skye nodded.
Every time I take a photo,
I feel that way.
Like there's always more to see,
More to explore.
Rey turned to them,
A hesitant but hopeful look in their eyes.
Maybe.
.
.
One day I could explore too.
Skye smiled,
Their voice soft but full of conviction.
Not maybe,
Definitely.
After a few weeks of the two friends' secret meetings,
Miss Gwyn was poking around through Rey's belongings,
Rifling with an unusual intensity when she discovered Rey's new paintings of places in the city they had never visited.
The familiar skyline was replaced with scenes of lush parks,
Intricate bridges,
And vibrant street markets.
The realization hit her like a thunderbolt.
Rey had been in contact with someone.
You've been deceiving me,
Miss Gwyn snarled,
Slamming the paintings onto the table.
Her voice was venomous.
After everything I've done to keep you safe.
Rey stood frozen for a moment,
Heart pounding before finally summoning the courage to push back.
Safe?
They demanded,
Their voice shaking but resolute.
You're not keeping me safe.
You're controlling me.
You're using me.
My hair,
My magic,
Everything about me is just fuel for your power.
Miss Gwyn's face twisted in fury.
Do you know what I've accomplished with your help?
She spat,
Pacing the room with wild energy.
I've kept your kind in check.
Without me,
This city would be overrun by chaos,
By people who think they can rewrite the rules of nature.
Rey's breath hitched as they took in her words.
You mean queer people?
They asked,
Their voice trembling but determined.
Miss Gwyn's expression hardened.
Yes,
People like them.
Like the one who's been filling your head with lies.
Do you understand what they're trying to do?
They think they can just invent new identities,
New pronouns,
New ways to defy how the world was meant to be.
Rey's tears welled up but didn't fall.
They took a deep,
Steadying breath.
I'm one of them,
They said,
The words coming out with a new clarity.
I think I might be gender curious and I want to try using they-them pronouns.
Miss Gwyn froze,
As if the words had physically struck her.
Her voice dropped into a cold fury.
Don't you dare say such nonsense.
You're a girl,
You've always been a girl and that's the only thing you'll ever be.
No,
Rey said firmly shaking their head.
Something sparked within them,
A fierce defiance they hadn't known they possessed.
I'm not sure what I am yet but I know this,
I'm not yours.
Miss Gwyn's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Then you're nothing to me.
In her fury,
She grabbed Rey's long,
Magical braids and hacked them off with a blade.
The hair,
Once shimmering with an otherworldly glow,
Fell limp and lifeless to the floor.
The moment the braids were severed,
Rey felt a strange release,
As if a tether holding them in place had snapped.
Miss Gwyn,
However,
Staggered slightly as her power began to wane.
Without the magic she'd been siphoning,
She seemed smaller,
Less imposing.
Still seething,
She grabbed Rey by the arm,
Dragged them to the edge of the water tower and shoved them out.
Rey tumbled,
Falling hard onto the rooftop below.
Dazed but determined,
They scrambled to their feet,
Ignored the pain in their knees and fled down the fire escape,
Disappearing into the labyrinth of the city below.
The next day,
Skye returned to the water tower.
Standing below,
They called up,
Rey,
Rey,
Let down your hair.
Miss Gwyn,
Who had stayed the night in the water tower,
Smirked.
She gathered up Rey's severed braids,
Tied them to the hook and let them tumble down the side of the tower.
Skye eagerly climbed,
But as they reached the entrance,
They froze in horror.
Miss Gwyn was waiting at the top,
The severed braids clutched in her hand.
Her expression was cold and venomous.
Where's Rey?
Skye demanded,
Their voice shaking with fear and anger.
Miss Gwyn's smile was cruel.
You'll never see Rey again.
With that,
She released the braids.
Skye tumbled backward,
Their body slamming into the rooftop below with a sickening thud.
Their head hit the surface and the world went black.
When they came to,
Everything was dark.
At first,
They thought it was night,
But a rising panic gripped them as they realized the truth.
They couldn't see.
Skye reached up to their eyes,
Hoping against hope that they were just swollen or bruised,
But no,
Their vision was gone.
Panic clawed at them,
But they forced themselves to breathe.
Slowly,
They fumbled in their pockets for their phone,
Only to find it had shattered in the fall.
Muscle memory and sheer determination kicked in.
Skye crawled to the fire escape,
Their fingers fumbling for the familiar metal bars.
Painstakingly,
They descended,
One rung at a time,
Until they reached the ground.
Every sound of the city,
A sky whale's low rumbling call,
Distant hoof steps of teenage centaurs,
A dog barking,
Felt overwhelming in their blindness.
Disoriented and afraid,
Skye began to wander.
Days passed as Skye stumbled through the city,
Guided only by instinct and hope.
They clung to the faint possibility that Rey was out there,
Somewhere,
Waiting for them.
Finally,
They reached the city's main park.
Exhausted and heartbroken,
Skye found their way to the gothic bridge Rey had loved so much in the photos.
They slumped against its stone railing,
Their fingers tracing the weathered surface and whimpered,
Please.
Rey,
I need you.
Rey,
Who had been wandering the city as well,
Happened to be nearby.
They heard the familiar voice and froze.
Heart-pounding,
They followed the sound until they saw Skye leaning against the bridge,
Battered and blind,
But unmistakably them.
Skye!
Rey cried,
Running toward them.
Skye turned their head,
Hope blooming on their face.
Rey?
Rey fell into Skye's arms,
Holding them tightly.
It's me,
They said,
Tears streaming down their face.
I found you!
Skye reached up,
Their hands gently brushing against Rey's face as if to confirm they were really there.
You're okay,
Skye whispered,
Their voice breaking with relief.
I thought I'd lost you.
As Rey pulled back slightly to look at Skye,
Their tears fell,
One landing softly into each of Skye's closed eyelids.
A faint glow emanated from where the tears touched,
And Skye gasped.
Slowly,
They blinked,
And the darkness that had surrounded them began to dissolve.
I can see,
Skye murmured in disbelief,
Their eyes widening as they took in Rey's face,
The soft light of the park,
The intricate arches of the bridge.
Rey,
I can see you!
Rey's breath caught.
Really?
Skye nodded,
Tears of their own welling up.
It's a miracle,
Your magic,
It's still with you,
Rey.
Overwhelmed,
Rey smiled through their own tears and hugged Skye tightly.
When Rey reunited with Siobhan and Joe,
Their mothers held them close,
Their embrace filled with years of love they could finally express.
Tears flowed freely as apologies and reassurances poured out.
We missed you so much,
Joe whispered.
You're perfect just as you are,
Siobhan added,
Her voice steady with conviction.
Rey,
Standing tall with Skye by their side,
Introduced themselves with their new pronouns.
I'm Rey,
And I'm figuring out who I am,
They said softly.
Siobhan and Joe smiled,
Their eyes shining with pride.
You'll never have to figure it out alone,
Joe promised,
And Siobhan nodded,
Already brainstorming ways to provide Rey with resources to explore their identity fully and freely.
Meanwhile,
Miss Gwynn's empire of fear began to crumble.
Without Rey's magic fueling her power,
Her influence waned and the facade of her dominance cracked.
Her oppressive rhetoric met widespread backlash as activists and allies rallied together exposing her hateful agenda.
Stripped of her platform,
Miss Gwynn became a relic of the past,
Her name fading into obscurity as the city moved towards a more inclusive future for all beings.
Skye's photography,
A celebration of queer joy and resilience,
Gained widespread acclaim.
Their groundbreaking photo essay chronicling modern queer identities and the ever-present threats of bigotry won a prestigious award,
Sparking conversations and inspiring change.
As for Rey,
They thrived.
With the unconditional support of their family and Skye's steadfast companionship,
They explored the world with a newfound sense of freedom.
Their magic became a source of creativity and empowerment,
Just as their identity became a beacon of pride and self-discovery.
The Water Tower,
Once a prison of isolation,
Faded into the background of the city skyline,
A forgotten relic no longer holding the power it once did.
Rey lived happily ever after,
Not as a fairy tale character trapped in a tower,
But as their true,
Beautiful self,
Surrounded by love,
Acceptance,
And the boundless possibilities of a life fully lived.
The End.
