Rump: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin Read Online Free PDF Page A

and Bruno talk of Kessler’s magic. Nothing like a witch turning someone into a toad or making a storm, but he could touch fire, make things disappear, or turn one small thing into another. That’s what I wanted most: to see him turn one thing into something else.
    “Only cost you a scoop of grain,” said Kessler.
    I hesitated. Gran would be furious if she knew I’d traded even a tiny amount of our food for a magic trick. We had so little to begin with. Besides, she didn’t approve of magic. I shook my head and stepped back.
    “Oh, come, just one scoop. You won’t starve for it. Bet you haven’t had much fun in weeks, all that digging.” Kessler gave a feeble smile. Suddenly I saw the hunger in his eyes, how hollow and sharp his cheeks were. He must beeven hungrier than I was to sell a magic trick for a scoop of grain. Was I that hungry to see the magic?
    “Can you turn one thing into another?”
    “Of course, of course!” He waved me to come closer.
    “Don’t, Rump.” I turned to see Red standing with her arms folded around her rations, glaring at Kessler.
    Kessler frowned. “There’s no harm in it.”
    “Says who?” asked Red. She suddenly looked very motherly. “Last time you came, you set Gus’s hair on fire.”
    “Well, that was a bit of a—”
    “And remember Helga and her wart—?”
    “Purely coincidence!” said Kessler, cutting her off with a nervous laugh. He reached into his pockets. “Look, see? No fire, no warts. I will simply turn this bit of fuzz into … a mouse. A mouse!” He waved a tuft of lint in front of my face. Could he really turn it into a mouse? Gran told me a story of turning mice into horses and a pumpkin into a golden coach. Wouldn’t it be fun to see a bit of fuzz turn into a live mouse?
    “Rump,” said Red through gritted teeth. “No.” I ignored her. It was just a scoop of grain. Gran would hardly notice, and I’d skip breakfast in the morning. That was fair.
    I opened my rations sack and Kessler whipped a tin cup from his pocket. He quickly scooped out a heap of flour and then pocketed it again. My stomach clenched. I’d have to skip three breakfasts for that. Red clucked her tongue in disappointment.
    “And now,” said Kessler, holding out the piece of lint, “I shall turn this little fuzz into a mouse!” Kessler cupped the fuzz in both hands and brought it close to his face. He muttered some words, and his eyes got big and glassy.
    The fuzz started to tremble and swell. A tail poked out of one end, and the other end grew ears and a pointy little snout and made a tiny squeak. Last to take shape were four small paws and two beady black eyes.
    A mouse! He had turned the fuzz into a mouse!
    “Did you see?” I said to Red, pointing to the mouse.
    “I saw,” she said grumpily.
    I smiled up at Kessler. He smiled back and put the mouse in his vest pocket. “Next time, maybe I’ll turn the mouse into a cat!”
    Eep, eep!
    We looked down to see another mouse scurrying toward us. Then came another, and another. Eep, eep! Eep! Six mice were skittering over Kessler’s feet. “Well, look at that!” He pulled the mouse out of his pocket. “They’ve come to greet their new friend! Isn’t that magical?”
    I started to nod in agreement, but then I heard strange noises, a pattering, like rain, and also a distant squeaking, like a flock of birds taking flight. The sounds got louder.
    “Here it comes,” said Red.
    Kessler’s eyes went wide. He held the mouse up and stared at it. “Oh. Oh, my—”
    Then came the explosion. An explosion of mice! Hundreds of mice poured from trees and holes in the ground, through windows and under door cracks. Screams andshouts echoed throughout The Mountain. Something crashed in a nearby cottage, and a man threw open the door and fled with a dozen mice squeaking at his heels. The mice converged and ran toward us. I scrambled up a nearby tree and wrapped my legs around it.
    “Time to go!” Kessler hitched up his pants,