Once upon a time, a child was taken for a stolen handful of greens.

The Witch, old and wild as the woods themselves, cradled the infant in her arms and whispered, “You are mine now.” She named her Rapunzel, after the plant that cost her everything—and gave her something more.

In a tower hidden deep in the forest, Rapunzel grew. Her hair shimmered like sunlight, her voice could charm the birds from the trees, and her laughter echoed through the stone walls like a forgotten song.

The Witch watched over her with a love that clung like ivy—tight, protective, and afraid of the world outside.

One evening, just as dusk brushed the treetops, the Witch returned from a long journey, her arms heavy with herbs and potions. She stepped to the base of the tower and looked up, her voice filled with affection

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."

The golden braid dropped from the window above. The Witch gripped it and began to climb. When the Witch made up, she sat down, leaning against the window frame.

"Well, don't you look lovely today, my dear? Oh, I brought you your favorites, fresh from the garden."

Out of her pocket, she grabbed a handful of grapes and handed them to her.