You think you know your fairytales? Guess again.

You have heard that it hath been said: the Grimm Brothers' fairytales are not for children. All those Disney cartoons have been cleaned up to suit the censors and Correctness Police. And verily, this is true.

The following is an actual Grimm fairytale – number three in the Hausmärchen, no less.

Well, okay, the language has been updated for a modern audience. Being from the American South, the author has removed this tale from the Black Forest and put it in the Appalachians. But the plot has not been changed.

Way back yonder in the depths of the Depression, there was a pore dirt farmer and his wife. How pore were they? Why, honey, they were so pore, their clothes were made out of old flour sacks. They didn't mind so much for themselves, but they had the sweetest li'l baby girl, and they wished they could do better by her.

One day, things got so bad, they didn't even have ten cents to buy white flour to make biscuits. They had to make do with leftover cornpone, and the li'l bit of jelly they had left just made a bite for their young'un. The farmer went out to plough, but inside, he was just all broke up about it. 'How'm I gonna feed little Annie?' was his thought. Then suddenly, the mule rared up, because there was somebody standing in front of the plough in the field.

It was a beautiful woman. She looked like a queen in a picture, with a crown and all.

'Where did you come from?' the farmer demanded. 'I ain't seen ary soul in this field when we started ploughing. Who are you?'

The lady smiled. 'I am the Blessed Virgin Mary,' she said in a soft, meller voice like the radio. 'I've come to help you.'

The farmer took off his hat. 'Well, ma'am, we're Baptists, and we don't go in for that Blessed Virgin stuff, but any mother of Jesus' is a friend of mine, even if you do talk like a Yankee gal. But we don't take public assistance. We're proud, and didn't vote for Roosevelt.'

The BVM smiled a beatific smile. 'Good for you,' she said. 'Avoid godless Socialism, I always say. However, you have trouble feeding yourselves. Why don't you let me adopt your daughter Annie? I'll take her to live with me. She shall have all the advantages of a heavenly environment.'

The farmer scratched his chin. 'Well, I reckon that would be good for her,' he said. 'Her mama's gonna cut up about it, but it seems like the right thing to do. Just let me go and talk it over with her.' As predicted, the farmer's wife was not too happy, but finally it was agreed that Annie should be adopted out to the Virgin Mary. She packed her bundle in a croker sack and took off.

Annie grew up in Heaven, which was a pretty fine place. She had all the ice cream she wanted, and nice clothes to wear. She was particularly proud of her patent leather shoes with buckles. Best of all, her playmates were all baby angels. You know, the chubby kind with the wings. They had lots of fun playing angel games, like 'hide and seek in the clouds', and chasing around with heavenly June bugs on a string.

Annie was having a good time, until one day, the BVM announced that she had to go on a trip to visit some other part of Heaven. The BVM gave Annie a key ring with thirteen keys on it. 'I need you to keep these keys, honey,' the BVM said. 'You can open all the doors except for Number Thirteen – that's this here little one – but that one is off limits. Promise me you won't open that door, because if you do, something bad will happen.' Of course, Annie promised to do what the BVM said. So the BVM packed her storebought matching luggage, and off she went.

Everything went fine for awhile. Annie and the baby angels played, as they always did. Annie also opened the twelve doors, and guess what she found? Each door opened on a kingdom that belonged to one of the twelve Apostles. You know, Simon Peter, Andrew, James, John…and all the rest of them, I forget. The kingdoms were pretty nice, and Annie enjoyed looking at them. Then she'd get bored, and go off and play with the angels some more.

Did Annie want to open that thirteenth door? Why, honey, you can just bet she did. She wanted it more than anything. Curiosity was just burning her up. But the baby angels wouldn't let her. 'No, no,' they said, 'You can't do that. Mama Mary has done said no. We can't disobey her, she's Jesus' mama.' And they'd distract Annie with a nice game of Who's Got the Button?

But one terrible day, it happened. The baby angels had all gone down to the corner cloud for an RC and a moon pie, and Annie was left alone. 'It won't hurt none if I just peek in that doorway, just a tiny li'l old bit,' she thought. No sooner said than done: Annie opened the forbidden door. And what do you think she saw? Why, honey, you won't believe it.

Inside the thirteenth room was the Holy Trinity! Yep, all Three of 'em. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, just sitting there. They shone like the brightest day on the highest mountain in the Smokies, that's how bright they were. 'Well,' Annie thought. 'Now I've seen all that glory. But there's no harm done.' And she closed the door carefully.

But oh, law, what was that on her finger? It was all gold from the glory inside that door. And it wouldn't wash off, not even with lye soap. Annie worried about that.

Soon enough, here came the BVM, back from her trip. And of course, she saw that gold stain on Annie's finger right away. And when she asked Annie about it, Annie lied. She claimed she'd never opened that door. And she said it three times.

Don't ever lie to spirits. Especially not three times. That makes it three times worse.

The BVM was sad, but she banished Annie. Annie woke up in a dark forest, oh my. She had to live in a holler tree, just like a squirrel. And just like a squirrel, she collected nuts and berries for her food, and slept in a nest of leaves. The buckles broke on her patent leather shoes, and she had to go barefooted. Her pretty clothes all fell apart, until she wasn't wearing nothing but her long yeller hair. Poor Annie. She grew up like that, all alone for years. And she couldn't talk a word.

Then one day, a king came by. This was a young king, and he was a bachelor, of course. Why would we need him if he was already married? Law. Anyway, the young king was a-chasing of a big old buck deer, and it went crashing through the brush. The king used his broadsword to cut him a brake through the thicket there. This was because he hadn't been brought up right, and didn't know any better. A better king would have used a farm tool, and not abused a sword like that, but like I said, this king was kind of slow. He was goodhearted, though, and when he saw that pretty li'l naked gal peeking out of the holler tree, his good heart just melted. He took Annie to live with him, and when he saw that she cleaned up nice, why, he just married her. So Annie became queen of the Kingdom of Franklin, which is northeast of Knoxville, you know. They all liked her, even though she was awful quiet. Annie still couldn't speak a word.

A year or so later, Annie had a baby boy. Oh, they was all pleased as punch about it. But then came the bad part. At night, the BVM showed up in Annie's bedroom. 'Annie,' she said. 'You have to tell me the truth, or you're not a fit mother, and you'll never speak again. Did you use that key?'

Annie got all stubborn. 'No'm,' she said. 'I surely did not.'

The Virgin just sighed. 'That's terrible for you,' she said. 'Now I have to take this baby somewhere safe from liars.' And she took the li'l baby boy back with her to Heaven. The next day, the whole palace was tore up about it. They looked high and low for the littl'un, but they didn't find him. And Annie still couldn't say a word. People got suspicious, calling Annie a baby-killer and maybe cannibal, but the king wouldn't believe them. He was just sad.

The next year, Annie had another li'l baby boy. And sure enough, the BVM showed up and told Annie she had to tell the truth if she wanted to keep the baby and learn to talk again. And you guessed it, Annie was still too stubborn to admit what she'd done. She was as stubborn as a Missouri mule, that gal. So the BVM took the baby with her to Heaven, where it would be safe, and the palace people were suspicious again, though the king didn't say ary word about it, just went on loving Annie.

The third baby was a girl. And when the BVM took that one, it was the last straw. Even the king couldn't stop them from having a trial. They called Annie everything in the world: baby-murderer, monster, cannibal, witch. And they decided to burn her alive, like in the old days up in Salem, in Yankeeland. Come the day, Annie was all trussed up like a January hog, and they lit the fire. The flames rose up, fixing to consume the pore queen.

'Aw, law,' thought Annie. 'I've gone and done it now. I've been so stubborn, and now I'm gonna die! And I'll never see my pore babies again! I WISHED I could tell the Virgin Mary I was sorry, at least.' And then, of course, the miracle happened. Annie found her voice.

'I DONE IT, MARY!' she shouted. 'I OPENED THAT DURN DOOR! AND I'M SORRY!'

Everybody heard Annie say it, she shouted so loud. They heard her all the way to Knoxville, I reckon. They even heard her in Heaven. And the Holy Trinity did something about it. All of a sudden, it began to rain, hard. Hard like a summer thunderstorm, a real gullywasher. In no time, them flames was out. And Mary heard Annie, too.

'It took you long enough,' came the meller voice from the air. 'My word, child, you are the most stubborn person I've ever met.' And then Mary appeared, and she wasn't alone. She had Annie's and the king's two li'l boys with her, and she was carrying the new baby girl. Everybody was pretty surprised, you can bet your britches on that.

Well, it all got sorted out in the end. Annie could talk now, and she and the king had a lot of catching up to do. She also had a lot of advice for him about respecting your tools. The kids were just as happy to play with the babies in Franklin as they were with the baby angels – though they kept forgetting they couldn't fly, which caused a few minor accidents. And Annie had learned her lesson.

'When you make a mistake, own up right away. That way, you can fix it. Don't wait until it all gets out of hand.'

PS This is really, truly, a Grimm Brothers' fairytale. Just go ask a certified folklorist. And don't be so hoity-toity about your cultural baggage.

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Dmitri Gheorgheni

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