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"The Dame-ing of the Shrew.
It twas a day just as any other would be. The rising sun beamed down on the Kaatskill Mountains as though a scepter had fallen from the heavens, glowing in all her glory upon a quaint Dutch village hidden amidst the wilderness. Within this town lived a variety of folk, all of whom were engrossed in the hustle and bustle of the busy markets going about their daily repertoire. People of all shapes and sizes could be seen out and about, the wives and their daughters buying the usual produce and greens, every once in a while with their obsequious husbands trailing on their skirts and ready to perform on command. The children frolicking throughout the meadows and valleys, the not so placid emotions of the drunks outside of King George's Tavern, and the courting couples of the countryside indulging in the wonders of youth. There was, however, a young women not wanting to be bothered by the entire ordeal of lust and love. Though she was the fairest of them all, not one man in all the village could win her heart. This does not mean they did not persist. For the more she resisted, the more determined they became. Seeing this, she realized that by making these otherwise stubborn men do her bidding, she was free to play with their hearts as though she could attach the strings to a marionette's piece. Heart were broken, as any toy would do after being batted around several times, yet all this women would do after "cutting the strings" was yawn and search for the next challenger with the inevitable fate. It almost seemed as though the more she would beat and spurn her courtiers, the more they desired her affection. That is until a young man by the name of Rip Van Winkle happened upon her path one day.
Rip Van Winkle was a handsome, young, man who walked down the road of life while others ran. His care free and well-oiled disposition made him seem as though he needed nothing but the clothes on his back, and whatever food he happened upon. At first glance, the women became intrigued with his reluctance to conform, and his somewhat queer lifestyle. "In no time at all," she thought. "I will have him eating out of the palm of my hand, and this will be my greatest conquest." As hard as she tried, however, Rip was oblivious to her flirtatious and coy mannerisms. It was going to be difficult to get Rip to notice her, let alone make him attracted to her. Frustrated, as well as perplexed, the women again tried to lure Rip into her fool's paradise like the siren sings to draw unsuspecting seamen toward their rocky death. Once again, Rip, ignoring her deadly voice, walked past her with an air of foolishness that only he could project. With that, she gave a huff as she went to devise her next devilish array.
While deliberating in her quarters that evening, the women's mind went off on tangent on several occasions. "Why does not my appearance or nature sway this man's affection?" she thought. "What ethereal inner strength does he possess to resist my milky smooth complexion, or the curvasiousness of my physique? I shall retire to my chambers for the night. Maybe easing my mind will provide greater insight to a Van Winkle proof plan.
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As she slept, she dreamt of the ways that Van Winkle would swoon over her after she won his heart, and the usual look of accomplishment she would display on her as though it were her very own flag, of her very own territory. "Wait," her mind chimed in, ringing a tone that was not quite in tune with her head. "Why am I so appreciative in the illusion? He should be for walking on the same rubble as the leather of my boots!" It appeared that this women's dreamlike self seem to be not smug for winning her prize, but grateful for having her prize stay. "This cannot be so! I must eradicate these thoughts from my brain immediately." It was too late. She had grown accustomed to Rip's infectious innocence and blithe idleness. Now, she no longer just wanted to dominate him, she wanted to possess him.
Awaking abruptly from her slumber, the women, unable to sleep, quickly clothed herself and headed out the door. " Maybe the crisp, night air will awaken me still from the daze that I have been put in.," she thought.
The once active village in the day, had transformed itself into a desolate, ghost town by night. Leaving nothing but the dark shadows of buildings, and the whipping blow of the wind as it echoed throughout and off the Kaatskill Mountains. The women was alone amidst a sea of nothingness. At least until she heard an inscrutable voice that bellowed through the enchanted Kaatskill breeze. "My child," it said. Looking among the buildings the women saw no one, but then again, the voice called. "My child," it rang again. This time, however, as the women searched high and low for the origin of this phantom sound, she found standing behind her a small, stout, elf-like man carrying a ninepins ball that was apparently half the size of him. "Hello, my child," he said warmly. "What ist thou hope to accomplish by being out in the cruel wind this evening? Surely the only thing one may gain is a touch of the pox..
Surprised with the physical form this apparition took, the women replied, " I have some trouble where men are concerned, well…where a man is concerned..
"Surely you jest," laughed the little man. "What possible trouble could you have from one man. You mortals are quite foolish!.
"That's just it," she proclaimed. "This man is foolish. He's idle, lazy, not to mention completely oblivious, and off in his own cloud day after day. My efforts are useless at this point, and I am beginning to comprehend that the only way to capture his heart is to give him a magical potion!.
"Potions I haven't got. Charms, on the other hand, are not as rare," sang the old man.
"Potions? Charms? Kind sir I was joking! There is no such magic in this village," she replied in awe of the old man's childish behavior.
"There is now," he said mysteriously as he held out a hand filled with tiny keepsakes and jewels. "All the enchantment you need can be found in these..
"Well, I suppose since I've tried everything else, witchcraft should not be denied a chance," she said awkwardly, and took the charm the gnomish man handed her. It was shaped like a clinched fist, and shined with the integrity of a queen's gem.
"This is a custom charm," added the man. " It will take on the shape of whatever aspect you desire, and thus enable you to succeed. The fist? You desire power over this man? Well, use the charm wisely, and remember if you should happen to lose it, whomever picks it up shall then be endowed with it's magic..
She looked at the glistening brilliance of it, examining each glorious crevice and shape it had to offer. As she looked up to thank the kind stranger, she realized that he was gone. Not only that, what once was a deserted village, actually was her bed chambers. Naturally she began to perceive that it had all been a dream, yet the charm was still clasped within her hand, and whom was beside her in her bed but good old Rip Van Winkle. Shocked at this sudden change of events, the women, now Dame Van Winkle, promised herself to never let the charm out of her sight by putting it on a bracelet.
Years had passed, and now with children, the Van Winkle's were notorious throughout the village. Rip was loved by the dames and children, who often hung on his every word, not to mention his clothing. However, over time Dame Van Winkle had hardened, and her curtain lectures to Rip were one of her more well-known tactics of punishment. Fortunately, Rip's spirit seemed to be immune to these irrelevant yelling fits, which just made her even more aggravated. Dame Van Winkle, while she had enjoyed acquiring her husband, now felt even more neglected than she did before she had the peculiar dreamt reality several years back. "He does chores and runs errands for the other dames. Why am I so different?" What does he see in other families that he doesn't see in his own," she screamed one day in a fit of rage. Slamming her fist on the table, the clasp that held the charm to her wrist band had broken, sending the keepsake sailing off and landing somewhere amongst the floor boards. Not realizing, she them composed herself and went off to get the children ready for supper, and go about her business as usual.
Coming home after a long day of playing with the children, building fences, and gardening for others, all Rip wanted to do was grab his firelock and dog, his only companion, and retreat to the woods before Dame Van Winkle could scream obscenities at him. Alas, she heard him sneak in with the creek of a floorboard, over time living with Rip had made her hearing more sharp, and off she went to give him an earful of "you should's" and "why don't you's." Rip, of course, did his usual routine of disconsolately casting his eyes up skyward, shrugging his shoulders, and planning as quick an escape possible. However, before he could do this, she saw he had his musket slung over his shoulder. With a "Why I never!," she slapped the pouch of musket pellets, sending them every which way. After exhausting herself, she huffed off to seek comfort in her reflection. Rip, on the other hand, still wanted to hunt. So, as quickly as possible, he began to pick up the pellets, accidentally mistaking the custom charm for one as well, since by that time it had taken on the shape. Upstairs in her chambers, Dame Van Winkle was staring in her vanity mirror. Wondering what life she could have led in the name Van Winkle hadn't entered the picture. Resting her chin on her hand, she quickly noticed that her charm no longer resided on her bracelet. Panic stricken, she ran about the house searching for some glimmer of the precious stones and metals, but none were to be found. That night, when Rip hadn't come home, she ran out in the empty street hoping to come across the same old man that had given her the charm. Night after night, and year after year since the day Rip was last seen she could be viewed surveying the village for a small old man. Until one day when she mistook a short peddler for the man, and pleaded with him to give him to give her another charm. When the peddler looked at her as though she was mad, she became so furious that she broke a blood vessel in her a fit of passion, killing her intstantly..
Rip, on the other hand, and his mysterious disappearance into the mountains had given him the freedom he had searched for all of his life. He was last seen by a farmer with a jeweled musket ball clutched in his hand, but that's another story.THE EN..
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