A Retelling
“A nutcracker?”
Clara looked at the shiny wooden soldier in her hand. Its long, bearded bottom jaw fell open as she moved it around. This wasn’tthe gift she was expecting. She had wanted a doll. But this was the gift her uncle had gotten for her, so she smiled and hugged it close when she thanked him like a well-mannered girl should.
Manners didn’t apply to the adults, however. Not long after gift giving, her parents and uncle were too drunk to even stand, let alone watch her. Their attention turned to the bottle, she snuck away to the kitchen. The nutcracker strewn across the counter, her hands deep in the gingerbread village. Sugar before bed wasn’t allowed, but this was the only vice a child could have.
“No, missy, we display those tomorrow. You’re no better than a rat when it comes to sweets,” The cook gently scolded her and moved the village before she could grab another sugar plum.
“But please, I’ve been good…,” Clara began to protest, only to be cut off by a loud clatter. The nutcracker had fallen to the floor, its arm bent at an odd angle.
“Oh, child, you should take better care of your things.”
The cook scooped up the nutcracker and placed it in her arms with a silk napkin as a sling before sending her off to bed.
On her way, Clara saw several red beady eyes peak out at her from a small hole under the cabinet. But when she blinked, they were gone.
That night Clara laid awake, too full of sugar, and listened for the adult laughter to turn to snores. She wanted to sneak back to the kitchen. Suddenly she heard a thud and sat up, expecting to see the nutcracker on her dresser where she had placed it. Instead, she was greeted with a horrendous sight.
Seven rats stood there, some on all fours, some on two, their worm-like tails knotted together tight, throbbing. When they moved closer to the edge of the dresser, they all squirmed, like one massive body.
“You’re one of us.” Only one rat opened its mouth, but there were several voices, some deep, others squeaks.
She couldn’t even scream, she was frozen in fear. This must be a nightmare. But when she pinched herself, the rats were still there.
“You will be our princess.” Another rat opened its mouth this time. Then the mass of furry, greasy bodies jumped at her. She scrambled to get off the bed but as she moved her arm a rat bit her.
Clara yelped in pain and ran for the hallway. “Mother! Father! Uncle!” She even called the cook, but no one came to help her.
While she ran, her surroundings began to look taller, larger. She just reached the drawing room when the rats caught up to her, now a giant threat that loomed over her. Clara cowered in fear, expecting to be eaten by this monster, but instead heard a thud.
When she looked up, she saw the nutcracker fighting the rats with his wooden sword, only using his good hand. The nutcracker was alive.
“Run, Clara! Beside the fireplace!” He yelled to her. More rats started swarming in from the kitchen, running over the couch, going through the tree, knocking down and shattering ornaments. She didn’t have a choice, so she ran towards the fire.
There was another small hole beside the fireplace. Before she could reach it, rats blocked her way, surrounding her on all sides. The fire shone and made their eyes a deep red, staring into her soul. They bit and clawed at her, and she kicked at them, losing a slipper in the process.
“Clara, now!” The Nutcracker grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to safety, cutting through the rats. A few rats he shoved so hard they fell into the fire, and she heard their screams as they entered the hole. Only, the tunnel didn’t feel safe; it was pitch black and full of cobwebs.
“The Rat King and his army are following us, we need to hurry.”
“What’s happening? How am I small? How are you alive?” Clara felt her headache.
“Don’t you believe in Christmas magic?” He asked as he pulled her out onto a mountain’s ledge. The sky was bright blue, and the land was covered in snow. No, not snow, icing. Below was a gingerbread village, with a castle covered in sugar plums, and faerie like people moving about.
“The rats are after my kingdom. But I can’t stop them, as this….” The Nutcracker let go of her and gestured to his stiff, wooden body. “Your house is the first where I’ve been able to control my actions again. I don’t even remember my name, it’s been so long. But it’s also where they’ve found me.”
She had stopped believing in magic the year before, but she couldn’t deny how real this felt. “How do I help?” She didn’t want to be taken by the rats either.
“Only the princess can undo the curse, and if they’re after you…”
“Then I’m the princess?” That sounded even crazier. If she was a princess, the adults around her would’ve treated her with more respect. “That can’t be. I’m not royalty.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try.”
He helped her climb down the mountain and found a sled and a horse to bring them the rest of the way.
“Does your arm hurt? I mean, do you feel pain?” Clara asked him, eyeing the napkin sling.
“It does hurt a lot, but nothing worse than the rats have put me through.”
“I’m truly sorry. I didn’t know you would fall. I didn’t mean for you to be in pain.” She apologized and lightly touched his shoulder. Light emanated from her hand and wrapped around his injured arm. It sparkled for a moment and then he moved his arm again, the napkin falling free.
“Apology accepted,” he said, but she fell silent, shocked the magic came from her.
Once they reached the village, they walked the rest of the way towards the castle. The faeries were adorned in snowflakes, flowers and candy, all so beautiful and distracting. The Nutcracker had to pull her back to the path many times. Up close their faces weren’t as pretty though; their eyes were big like insects’, some had multiple, and a few showed her smiles with sharp fangs. If The Nutcracker was one of them, what did he look like? What would she look like if she was their princess?
The castle was huge inside. The walls were decorated with purple mouldings and everything was covered in a thin layer of crystal sugar. It was beautiful. She only got a moment to enjoy its beauty before the place was set ablaze.
Clara and The Nutcracker ran back to the path. The Rat King shambled out of the flames, some of the rats more scorched than others, “She will be our princess, not yours!”
“No, she belongs to us!” The Nutcracker grabbed his sword.
“I don’t belong to anyone!” Clara yelled. “And this kingdom doesn’t belong to you!”
Light shot out from her, knocking The Rat King into the fire, which made the flames grow taller. At the same time, the light hit The Nutcracker. His wood peeled off, revealing a faerie teen, not much older than her. With his newfound mobility, he struggled to undo the knot of the rats’ tails until all seven were separated.
“You did it!” He hugged her but she shook her head and pulled back.
“I just want to go home. I’m no princess.”
He frowned, but nodded. “The tunnel was destroyed, but this should take you home.” He handed her a sugar plum.
In one bite, it was gone, and she awoke in the drawing room, gingerbread crumbs all around her, broken ornaments on the floor. There was no nutcracker in sight, but his tiny sword was by her side.
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