A young villager fights to achieve his dreams and conquer his first love. When he thinks he is the best of the best, everything collapses and his only refuge will be the dark forest. A mysterious voice accompanies him in his pain and reminds him how unfair and miserable life is. Anger, hate and fear darken his heart and an ancient entity reappears. It’s time to get revenge and what better way than with a perverse game.
I studied business administration, graduated from the Universidad del Valle de Mexico. I started my own business a year later, which was active for 6 years. During that period, in my down time, I opened my laptop and began to expand The Brothers Grimm’s story of “Rumpelstiltskin,” since I had always been intrigued about the story. I loved what I wrote, and that's how I expanded it until I completed my first novel.
I remember when I was a child and my mother read The Brothers Grimm’s tale of "Rumpelstiltskin"; to me for the first time, published in 1812. I felt goosebumps and that night I struggled to sleep. As we know, these stories are dark and don’t have a very happy ending, at least for some of the characters anyway. As the years rolled by, in my mind there was always the uncertainty of some events in the plot such as: what father would lie about his daughter just to be important? And, why specifically with the gift of turning straw into gold? Did the king never question if it was really possible? And who was the little man who appeared to
the girl to help her? Mere coincidence? Or was there really a purpose behind all this? Besides, what heartless being would take a mother's baby from
her? Did the little man just want a child or was it all part of an evil plan? And finally, the man's unbridled wrath for having discovered his real name.
Well, in the magical world, some names of gods or demons are sacred, so perhaps there must have been a reason why humans should not know them. And, if so, what would it be…?
In this extended version based on the original story, I will transport you to a world of fantasy, magic and adventure but also of terror, disappointment and sadness, just like the ones you and I have experienced or could ever imagine.
The boy was fighting the freezing blizzards, protecting himself with his arms in front of him, and every step he took was a tiring effort. The woman did not have the heart to leave him at the mercy of the winter night, so she quickly left her home.
She was about to put the baby in the crib when she heard some loud knocking on the front door. She hurriedly went downstairs with the child in her arms and opened the door. On the portico were three old women who, judging by the expressions on their faces, did not seem very friendly.
The white horse galloped alongside the black horse, not a trot more and not a trot less; the two equidistant forces of the two horses were controlled. But, when a mysterious entity to this world broke the balance, the counterpart of the forces of evil opened up to corrupt an innocent soul.
The twilight stained the sky that reflected in the vast ocean with its reddish and orange tones. In the highest level of the north tower, the palace guard blew his trumpet. He announced the arrival of the king’s navy returning from battle.
Kelsea and Jessi wore extravagant red and black outfits: large gloves, tight corsets, short skirts and embedded ostrich feathers in their upswept hair. All the knights gasped and stood unblinking, listening to such sensual damsels.
He began to run fast, imagining the worst: not being able to leave the woods. He intermittently turned his head back to see if anyone was chasing him. Suddenly he saw a wolf standing on a rock in the distance, howling at the full moon.
A strong current of air ran through the ruins, enveloping half-naked women who sang with their melodious voices. Some of them had greenish skin like the leaves of trees and others, brown like the trunk. All with creeping vines as hair which seemed to be alive.
He realized what his father feared: his hand in the form of a branch, connected to his body full of straw. He quickly released him but it was too late. The fire had surrounded them. And his scarecrow body burned between the ravenous flames.
He bowed to the side, dropped his weight onto an elbow and then rested his head against his fist, as if his crown suddenly weighed heavily on him. It seemed that the feast for him was feeding his arrogance, which seemed insatiable.
The sky flashed. From the tomb emerged an arm, followed by his mother’s body. She had rotten skin and her jaw hung loose. He begged for her to stop but she continued emerging from the mud. She dragged herself toward him, saying over and over the word “forbidden”. Her body crumbled but even as it disintegrated, she continued crawling on the ground.
A flock of crows that fluttered above the graves arrived on the branches of an old bare tree. The loud squawking muffled her screams.
A spectral and macabre laugh echoed in the dark. The miller’s daughter immediately sat up, turning her head in all directions; she was terrified. She didn’t know where the laugh came from or who it was. Until she managed to make out in a corner a silhouette of a little man.
The fire intensified. The silhouette of the queen also appeared dancing next to the king, who then unsheathed his sword and in the blink of an eye, decapitated her.
In front of her appeared a hideous creature more than 9 feet tall. It had gray and rough skin, with a deformed body and a small bald head. The creature growled, showing his yellowish teeth. And with his black and sunken eyes, the troll had found his dinner.
It was midnight. Rumple, with his chest full of despair, went up the stairs illuminated by candles from a chandelier. He couldn’t walk in a straight line; he zigzagged while leaning against the railings. His head was totally confused, as images that he himself did not remember or understand flooded his mind.
The miller’s daughter no longer saw her grandmother’s spinning wheel as a relic, but as a terrible curse.
