A man came into my garden last night, how dare he? That was not the only crime he committed, as if trespassing in my garden weren’t enough. No, he had the desire to steal from me as well! My beautifully grown rampion desecrated by his hands! Tonight I will lie in wait, for surely his hunger will not have been satisfied by one trip into my garden.
It is with triumph that I watch him climb over the hedge, a look of utmost concentration in place on his face. He bends and begins to hastily pick my rampion. I spring from my hiding spot. “Thief!” I cry, “How dare you steal from me!”
He throws up his hands, dropping my rampion and cowering on the ground. “Have mercy!” he pleads. “My wife is with child and she saw your rampion through our window, and said she would die if she did not receive any!”
“Indeed,” I say, and a brilliant plan enters my mind. “Well then, of course you may take all that you need—“
“—on one condition. When your child is born, you must give it to me.”
To my surprise, he agrees at once so I bid him farewell and he resumes picking my rampion.
As soon as the man’s child is born I arrive at his house and take her. “Rapunzel, which is the same as rampion, you will be called.”
Again to my surprise, the man made no attempt to stop me. I take her to my home and raise her as my own.
Twelve years have passed and she has grown into the most beautiful creature anyone has ever seen. I decide to hid her from the world, and so I create for her a tower with no stairs and one window. When I wish to enter the tower I call “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” She then throws her long, golden hair out the small window and climb.
Four years pass this way, and no one else has seen the child, or so I thought. “Mother Gothel,” she asks me one day, “why is it that when you climb my hair it takes you an hour, but when the King’s son climbs, he is with me in moments?”
I am filled with rage when I hear these words. “How dare you betray me!” I yell, and I smack her beautiful face. I take my shears and cut her golden hair from her head. “Wicked, wicked child!”
I send her to live in a castle in the desert, and when she is gone I fasten her hair to the window and lay in wait for the prince. It is not long before I hear him call “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”
I throw the hair out the window and within minutes he is standing before me. “Where is Rapunzel?” he cries when he sees me.
“Far away where you’ll never see her again!” I cackle. I push him out the window, and on the way down his eyes are pierced by thorns. I am satisfied that he will never see Rapunzel again.