The Tinderbox

I am still haunted by the nightmares. He believed I was always asleep when they brought me to him. That wasn't true, though.

I remember everything.

The first time he sent the dog with eyes as big as teacups, I nearly screamed aloud with terror. I suppose you would too, if you found yourself flying through the night air on the back of a huge hound. This wasn't just some dream. It was real.

The next night he sent the second dog after me. Its eyes were as large as mill wheels. Still, it wasn't as bad as the last one. The third and final canine had eyes as enormous as round towers.

Once I got to his lair, it was the same every time. He would simply watch me sleep. No hand did he lay on my prone body. His thoughts he kept to himself.

I had my guesses as to who he was within a short amount of time. At my birth, it had been prophesied that I would marry a former soldier who was to murder my parents. Out of fear, my father the king decided to keep me locked away in a tower. But no mere lock could keep those dogs away, I soon discovered.

After that first disturbing night, I confessed what had happened to my dear friend and chambermaid, Bess. She was the only other person besides my parents that was ever allowed in my room. She, of course, told my father straight away. He, in turn, sent out his most reliable spies to learn more about my nocturnal abductor. The reports that came back shocked us all.

His given name was John Atwell, but he had become known as Mad Dog on the battlefield. He was an agressive fiend when it came to his ambitions. In fact, he was supposed to be executed for being a traitor when he escaped one night. The next morning, the story goes, he ambushed an old woman on a road out of town. Being the monster that he was, he threatened to kill her if she didn't give up her money. She pleaded for her life on that road and swore to him that he could have her greatest possession in the whole world. Greed and curiosity won him over and he listened to her tale of a magical tinderbox. She instructed him on where to find it and what guards he would encounter there.

Mad Dog bound her frail frame with a rope and made her show him the tinderbox's location. She lead him to an enchanted hollow tree. Then he went inside to retrieve his treasure. When he came back out hours later, he killed the old woman. He'd gotten what he wanted and didn't need her anymore.

My parents and I absorbed this tragic news with a mounting sense of dread. The king quickly came up with a plan to find out where this infidel was hiding. He knew it would put me into danger but we all knew something had to be done. Bess would follow me as best as she could through the village and mark his door with an "X" in chalk. It sounded too simple to me but I kept my thoughts to myself. My father's eyes were clouded with enough concern. Adding my doubts to that would help none of us.

Mad Dog turned out to be more clever than we thought. We decided he must have seen Bess creeping away through the darkened village streets. The next morning revealed all of the houses bore a similar chalk "X" on their front doors. We'd been figured out!

I can recall sitting on my bed clinging to my mother the queen as we wept silent tears. Bess surprised us that afternoon by concocting a better plan. When it was time to go to bed, I lay down beneath the silk coverlet and feigned slumber. I think it was some of the best acting I'd done yet and I silently prayed my pounding heart wouldn't give me away.

An hour or so later, the canine with the monstrous eyes appeared out of nowhere. Somehow it managed to lay me onto its back and then suddenly we were flying in the open night air. With as little movement as possible, I widened the small tear in the sack of buckwheat tied around my waist. I could almost hear each grain make a small "tink" as they bounced off of the roofs and down to the cobblestone streets. I was fortunate that the sack was empty by the time we reached Mad Dog's house.

He made a tiny sound of appreciation as I lay there pretending to sleep. I could feel his eyes travelling hungrily over my still form. It sickened me to feel as if I were a dinner he wanted to devour. Yet my pale face revealed nothing. I know I couldn't have looked more peaceful than if I were having the most pleasant of dreams.

Hours later, the greying light of dawn crept in through the windows of his hovel. It was time for my return. The dog with the eyes as large as round towers bore me away once more.

Our plan was a success that night. My father's soldiers found Mad Dog the following morning. Three days later, he was hanged down in the public courtyard. I watched out of morbid fascination from a vantage point that kept me out of his line of vision. He was a hideous looking man, with shaggy brown hair and a scarred face. I was glad when the executioner put the black mask over his head. He died moments later. No one ever found his magical tinderbox.

For years after that, the stories of my adventure became something best told over a pint in the local pubs. The details, however, became more richly embroidered over time. It really didn't matter to me what the townspeople whispered behind their hands. I knew the truth and it was good enough for me. Like I've told you, I am still haunted by the nightmares.