Free The Grimm Conclusion by Adam Gidwitz Page B

king and queen.
    They raised their daughter with all the love in their hearts, until the day of her thirteenth birthday. On that day, the princess sat up in bed and began to weep.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” her mother asked her.
    The little girl tried to explain. There was so much suffering in the world. So much injustice. Every day, beetles were dying and lambs were stillborn and people starved because of a bad rainfall. It wasn’t fair. The world was a terrible place. Nothing the queen said made her daughter feel any better. The girl just buried her head in her hands and wept.
    The second day after her thirteenth birthday, the girl raged around the castle, breaking things and shouting at people for no reason. Nothing was right. Nothing was good enough. Her father chased after her, begging her to be reasonable. She threw a chamber pot at his head. It had just been used. He left her alone after that.
    The third day, she lay in bed and writhed in unbearable pain, and no medicine could ease her suffering.
    On the fourth day, the girl felt fine; she passed the month happily. And then the cycle began again.
    This happened every month for twelve months. And then, at the beginning of the thirteenth month, the girl wept all through the first day at the horrors of the world, raged all through the second at nothing in particular, and writhed in unbearable agony all through the third.
    â€œOh, I can’t take it!” the girl cried. “I hate my life! I hate it! Make the pain go away! Make it go away!”
    Just then, by her bedside, appeared the thirteenth Wise Woman, the one who had not been invited to the feast. “There, there, my dear,” said the old crone. “Let me help you.”
    â€œHow?” the girl begged, writhing in her sweaty sheets. “All the doctors, all the Wise Women, have tried everything! Nothing helps! The world is a terrible place, full of suffering and stupidity and pain!”
    â€œI can make the pain go away,” the thirteenth Wise Woman said. “Would you like that?”
    â€œYes!” the girl cried. “Please make it go away!”
    â€œDo you wish to feel no more sorrow? No more anger?”
    â€œOh, yes! Please!”
    â€œNever again will you weep at suffering or rage at injustice—”
    â€œThat’s all I want!”
    â€œNever will the pain of living encroach on your peaceful mind.”
    â€œJUST DO IT ALREADY!”
    The Wise Woman smiled. “Here,” she said. “Take a bite of this apple.”
    The girl sat up in bed. She looked at the apple—speckled with gold and flashing in the morning light. She grabbed it, took a huge bite, and swallowed without chewing.
    Suddenly, she began to choke. She fell back in bed and choked and choked and choked. And then she lay still.
    As soon as the girl stopped moving, a deep sleep spread over the entire castle. A banquet was being held in the great hall, and instantly the king, the queen, and all the lords and ladies fell headfirst into their bowls of soup. The horses fell asleep in the stables, the dogs in the courtyard, the pigeons on the roof, and the flies on the wall. Even the fire on the hearth stopped flaming and fell asleep, and the roast stopped crackling, and the cook, who was about to pull the kitchen boy’s hair because he had broken all the eggs on the floor, let go and fell asleep. And the wind died down, and not a leaf stirred on the trees.
    All around the castle, a thorny briar began to grow. Each year it grew higher until in the end it surrounded and covered the whole place, and only the tower where the princess slept loomed over the secluded, sleeping valley.
    The story of Briar Rose soon spread. From time to time, a knight or a prince came to the castle and tried to pass through the thorny briar. But none succeeded, for the briar bushes clung together as though they had hands, and so young men were caught and couldn’t break loose and died a pitiful