Ramblings: The Autobiography of Goldilocks

By Hannah Carson

Many have been told that I ate their porridge. More have been told that I reclined in their chairs. All have been told that I slumbered in their beds. But none know the truth, and the truth will set you free. This is the true story of a girl called "Goldilocks." This is the story that will clear my name. This is the story of Mary Margery Mofflin. This is my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hannah Carson
• Release date: Apr 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458154651

Hannah Carson

Hannah E. Carson grew up in West Africa as the daughter of missionaries. She holds a degree in Fine Arts and lives in Durham, North Carolina. When not writing, she can be found reading and studying various methods of making the perfect burrito.

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Ramblings: The Autobiography of Goldilocks

Hannah E. Carson

Copyright 2010 by Hannah E. Carson

Smashwords Edition

1

THE BLONDE TRUTH

I will tell you my story, but only if you promise to keep it a secret. Everyone knows that secret tellers are hung upside down by their toes and forced to listen to polka music all day long for three years. I should hope you wouldn’t want that to happen to you.

Let me begin by telling you that my name is Mary Margery Mofflin. I think it’s a stunning name, but unfortunately most people, like yourself, only know me as Goldilocks. Which brings to mind a common misconception that people have about me. My hair is not golden. It is, in fact, quite dark-almost raven I would say. Storytellers do enjoy using blonds.

You may recall a long haired lass by the name of Rapunzel. Her hair was actually quite green. She did so enjoy the swimming pool before that horrid witch kidnapped her. And then there was the constant dreamer Cinderella. She is almost quite always portrayed as yellow haired. As her niece, I can honestly tell you that she is in fact a redhead. As for myself, the nickname Goldilocks had nothing to do with my hair.

You see, when I was a small school girl I became very obsessed with my possessions. Noticing this, my father purchased me a beautiful set of gold locks for my birthday. They were exquisite. The largest was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was carved with M.M.M., my initials, and covered with diamonds and rubies. I quickly forgot their purpose and instead focused only on the locks themselves. I adored them. They became my new best friends, which is actually quite a sad thing for a young schoolgirl.

One day, two tailors visited my family’s palace. My father was an emperor, you see. He hired the men to make him the finest garments in the world to wear in the annual town parade. When the day of the parade came, the two tricksters had convinced my father that the invisible thread they had used could only be seen by truly intelligent people. While I rode through the streets with my father, who was dressed only in his undergarments, those nasty thieves stole all of our precious things back at the palace. Most importantly, they stole my locks.

I suppose I have told you more than you need to know, but as I am unable to speak to you in person, I feel it is important that you do not visualize me incorrectly.

Now it is my understanding that you already know some of my story. I did in fact enter into the home of three bears. I did eat some of their food, and I did sadly destroy a piece of their furniture. And yes, I even took a small nap in the youngest bear’s bed. But, what you do not know is that I was very much in love with the youngest bear.

2

JACK BE QUICK

I suppose the best way to start my story would be from the beginning. I have heard a great many stories started at the end but they become so confusing one wishes they had never heard the story at all. I have chosen not to confuse you so when all is said and done, you may thank me.

It all started the day after the parade. I had lost my beautiful locks forever, or so I thought, and my father had become the punch line of many unpleasant jokes. There was this one rather amusing one that involved a duck, a priest, and a rabbi but as I do not remember the punch line, I shall spare you.

As I was saying, my family was feeling quite down and to boost our spirits my father suggested a trip to the countryside. So, my family set out one fine morning. There was my father, myself, and my stepmother. I do apologize for not mentioning her until this very moment but I was afraid of how you might picture her. You see, where I come from stepmothers have the most horrid reputation.

I am sure you have all heard the story of Cinderella’s stepmother. I know first hand of this terrible stepmother because she mops our floors every Tuesday. She is simply a beastly woman. And how can anyone forget the wicked stepmother of Snow White? She was quite possibly the worst one of them all.

As for Snow White herself, I must tell you that although not a horror to look at, she is not in my opinion the fairest of them all. There is a rumor that the magic mirror was in fact very nearsighted and in fear of being broken he simply said the first name that came into his head. As the queen’s name was very hard to pronounce he chose Snow White. The queen was not the only one shocked by this reply. What with Snow White’s stringy black hair and ghostly pale skin, anyone who heard this reply would have been shocked.

There I go again losing track of my story. You must forgive me. I do so have trouble concentrating. Now, about my stepmother. She is the most splendid stepmother in the world. My father married her when I was just two years old.

My real mother died quite tragically one afternoon while she was taking a walk amongst the bean stalks in our garden. They had grown quite tall and she was just about to begin chopping them to the ground when down from one of them tumbled a perfectly nasty little boy. He landed square on top of my poor mother smashing her as flat as a pancake.

As is turns out, the boy had a criminal record. This boy, Jack, had been doing some illegal gambling for quite a while. He would make bets with poor unsuspecting people saying that he could jump over an enormous candlestick without getting singed. Naturally upon accepting the bet the gamblers expected there would be a candle in the candlestick, and as Jack was quite cowardly there never was and he would make off with all of their money. He was quite cunning. On the occasion involving my mother’s accident, Jack had been hiding up in the beanstalk to escape the angry gamblers whose money he had made off with. My father’s men were unable to catch him after his tumble from the beanstalk. It was not until by chance his sister Jill pushed him down a hill leaving him very wounded. She of course being a ninny herself tumbled down the hill as well. Fortunately she was uninjured and was able to continue her job as the town Water Maid.

Jack’s parents did not take the news of their son’s arrest well at all. Jack’s father, Jack Sr., was so upset he refused to eat and in doing so became quite thin. Jack’s arrest had quite the opposite affect on his mother. She became so upset that she ate everything in sight. Many a night she would lick the dinner platter clean. Needless to say, Jack was convicted and sentenced to a lifetime of kissing toads. It is my understanding that to this day not one toad has become a princess.

As you can imagine my father was quite devastated over my mother’s death. He rarely left the palace and I was beginning to feel rather lonely. My father soon hired a governess to look after me, and three weeks later he married her. Now I know three weeks seems an incredibly short amount of time to know someone before you marry them, but it was true love, and as someone who herself has experienced true love, I can quite honestly tell you that time has nothing to do with it. Which brings me back to our story.

The three of us, my father, myself and my splendid stepmother began our trip to the country on a beautiful, sunny day. We were very encouraged that the weather would lift our spirits, and it did for a while until it began to rain.

3

DON’T WISH FOR WISH FAIRIES

We had been quite naïve when we set out on our trip and had chosen to ride in the open carriage instead of a more sensible closed one. All of our belongings were quickly becoming soaked through. As for myself, my beautiful raven hair was beginning to resemble a horse’s tail that has been quite uncared for.

I thought for sure that our wonderful trip to the country would be ruined, but as if out of midair, a small pleasant looking inn appeared in front of us. Now, I myself have always been cautious of things that just appear when one needs them.

One time last summer I was in desperate need of an ice-cream cone and to my delight one simply dropped from the sky right into my hands. Of course I ate it, never being one to turn down an ice-cream cone, not to mention one that just happened to be my favorite raspberry cheesecake flavor. It was so delicious, and I was very content with my wish until I developed the most terrible tummy ache later that day. As it turned out a clever little wish fairy had been nearby when I made the announcement that I would love an ice-cream