Chapter Text
ONCE UPON A TIME, not too long ago, there was…
"A miserable girl!" my readers will no doubt exclaim, expecting no less, provided they read the description of the story.
But no, my dear readers, you are wrong. There is no girl, not yet. Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a little piece of wood, and a carpenter named Master Antonio.
On one fine, sunny day, he thought he would fashion his favorite table, which had become crooked with age, a new leg. He took this fine-looking log and set it on his worker's bench, and began to carve. But no sooner had his knife touched the face of the wood that he heard a terrible voice!
"Hey! Don't touch me with that!"
Master Antonio jumped up. He looked under his bench. He looked in the stove. He even peeked outside, into the street. But there was no one there!
Quite sure that he had only heard a passing voice, he chuckled at his rich imagination and sat back at his work bench to begin cutting into the fine log.
"OW! Oh, that hurts!" again, said the voice.
This time, Master Antonio leapt out of his seat and hurried to the door, sure that there was a prank being played upon him by the village boys. But, again, there was no one outside. There was no one under his bench, and there was no one in the stove. Simply put, there was no one there who could've made such a sound at all!
For a third time, he sat down and began to carve. And for a third time, a voice cried out.
"AH! STOP THAT!"
Now, Master Antonio realized where it was coming from. The log he had chosen to fashion a table leg out of was speaking! His eyes bulged out of his head, and his mouth hung open like the door to the stove.
There was no doubt of it now! The voice was coming from within the little piece of wood.
Master Antonio observed the log- it did not move. It did not breathe. And yet, it spoke! It had no mouth, and yet, it cried out in pain! How was such a thing possible, he thought? Perhaps there was something living inside? If there was, then he would set it straight!
Frightened, and now angered by the strangeness of the log, Master Antonio took the little piece of wood and began beating it against the wall, on the floor, and over the work bench without mercy. It whined in pain, but still persisted in its complaints.
What a frightful affair!
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Who could it be, at this hour? Master Antonio set down the log and opened the door, to see a neighbor and fair friend of his, a poor woodcarver named Master Geppetto.
"Good day," said Geppetto, "I was wondering if you would have a log for me. I would like to make myself a puppet to earn a living with."
Master Antonio thought this was his lucky day. The unsociable log would be passed off onto his friend and neighbor, and he could go about his day most peacefully.
"Here!" Antonio said, handing Geppetto the log, "Take this one! It will make a fine puppet- it already speaks!"
Now, no one had asked the log what she thought of all this. No one had asked her if she ever wanted to be a talking log in the first place, at least not before beating her.
If they had asked, she would have told them it was a terrible idea, and to kindly dispose of her in the nearest river. Master Geppetto, after all, meant to make a living off of a performing puppet- and this log could not imagine a worse fate than being forced to perform in front of a crowd! She would rather die! She would rather be made into firewood! In fact, she would have rather been a table leg after all!
But it was not up to her. Neither of the adults cared what she thought of the whole thing.
So, against her wishes, the log was brought to Master Geppetto's workshop, and fashioned into a fine puppet whom he named Maya. She was finished, with black-lacquer hair and warm-toned wooden skin, fitted with joints, given a face, and, finally, attached with feet.
But, at the very moment she had been given feet, she leapt up from the work bench and ran to the door!
Master Geppetto yelped in surprise as his fine paints and lacquers splatted all over the floor, and Maya took this great opportunity to throw open the small, crooked door of the shop, and fling herself into the streets! She would never, not ever be made to perform, not as long as she had feet that could carry her far away from here!
The sight of a walking and talking puppet caused a great commotion amongst the villagefolk, and they watched in awe as the old, crotchety Master Geppetto ran after the wooden girl.
But Maya would not be caught! She would never, ever be forced to perform on a stage! She would do anything but be forced to perform on a stage! She would die before performing on a stage! Oh, why couldn't she have been made into a table leg after all?!
Drawn to the commotion, a carabiniere joined the crowd to watch the sorry sight of the old man chasing the puppet as if she were a loose chicken, and in one fell swoop, he caught the girl by the tip of her wooden nose and went to return her to Master Geppetto while she wept and struggled.
"Poor girl," said one of the watching townsfolk, "That Geppetto has quite the temper."
"Indeed," murmured another, "She will surely be beaten for misbehaving."
Maya didn't care about that. She would rather be beaten than perform. She would rather die than perform!
Of course, the carabiniere didn't care about what the talking puppet wanted. Instead, he, hearing the concerned whispers and gossip of the townsfolk, and worrying greatly for his reputation, should he return the girl to her master, let the puppet go and arrested Geppetto instead! What a sorry sight it was.
But Maya wasn't thinking about that. She had only just been born, and had not yet begun to understand things like loyalty to one's family. And so, feeling rather triumphant that she would not be made to perform, she marched back into Geppetto's house and locked the door.
Upon entering the house, there was a voice.
"Hallo~~~!!" it said, far too cheery to be in a children's fairy tale from the 19th century. "Down here!"
Maya looked down. There on the floor was a cricket-shaped girl, or a girl-shaped cricket, with long blonde hair and large brown eyes. Maya felt very angry that a bug could be more beautiful than her.
"Who are you?" she asked, crouching to see the cricket-girl.
"I am a talking cricket named Coco, and I have lived in this room for a hundred years and more!"
Maya felt very angry that a bug could have belonged in her home more than her.
"But this room is mine," she said, already irritated that the bug had intruded on her space (and without knocking). "And I would prefer it if you went away at once."
"I will not," said Coco the cricket, "Until I have told you a great truth."
"Well, then, get on with it,"
"Woe to the girls who rebel against their families, and run away from home! They will never find any good in the world, and sooner or later they will repent bitterly,"
Maya scowled at this, for she was sure there was no bitter a repentance than the life she had already been given. "That must be easy for you to say, cricket that has belonged here for a hundred years. But I have already made up my mind. Tomorrow I will run away, so that I will never have to stand on a stage and perform for a crowd of people!"
"What about school?" the Cricket asked.
"School?" Maya hated that word. "I will never be made to study, not by force or by love. I have no wish to learn sums or spelling. It is much more fun to stay indoors and play games!"
"Poor girl! Don't you know that in that way, you will grow up to be a donkey rather than a lady?"
"Shut up!" cried the puppet.
But the cricket, who was being very patient and kind with the girl despite her insults, and who was only two inches tall anyway, remained calm.
"If you do not wish to go to school or honor your family, then you should at least learn a trade, if only to be able to honestly earn yourself a place to belong!"
"Amongst all the trades in the world, there is only one I would like,"
"And what is that?"
"To sleep, stay indoors, and amuse myself with games!"
"As a rule," said Coco the cricket, "Those who lead such a lifestyle almost always end up in prison or the hospital."
"Shut up, orphan!" Maya shouted, "Woe to you if I lose my temper!"
"Poor girl, I pity you," said the cricket, "For you are a puppet, and with no friends!"
At this, Maya flew into a blind rage and, taking upon herself a wooden hammer from the bench, flung it at the cricket. Whether or not she really meant to kill the poor bug, which had only been trying to help, didn't matter; it became flattened and dried against the wall just the same, with not even a breath left for a cri-cri-cri.
All night, Maya was tormented with terrible thoughts of what she had done. Not only because she had killed the only thing that had, thus far, tried to help her see the wrongs of her ways, but because it was now long after midnight and she had become hungry.
After having refused her creator Geppetto, and her helper, Coco the Cricket, she had no one left to offer her anything to eat.
For a long while, she did not move. She sat by the fireplace, warm but unsatisfied, feeling sorry for the state of herself. She thought it was a suitable punishment for her wickedness, not knowing that wallowing in one's own misery was more wicked than any of the wicked deeds she had done that day.
But, then, Maya had just begun to live, and so she did not know these things yet.
Then came the witching hour, and Maya was so hungry that she could hardly move. Finally resolving to put an end to her misery, she rose from the fire and walked about the little wood shop, hoping to find some spiced sweets to sate her hunger.
The saucepan was empty and there was naught in the cupboard but dust. She went from drawer to drawer, hoping for a bit of brown bread, a crust, even a crumb, but she found nothing, only nothing, all the while her hunger grew more and more unbearable, until she was on the brink of weeping, both for refusing the care of others, and for feeling so sorry about it.
Coco the cricket was right, she felt this, though she did not say it, because she was an awfully proud and arrogant puppet already, I shall surely die of hunger now! And no one will know, for my wooden body will show no signs of starvation!
Suddenly, Maya saw something round and white in a bed of dust and hay in the corner. She went to it, and it was a miracle! A hen's egg! Nothing sounded more delicious, not even spiced sweets. Maya began thinking of ways to cook it- though she had never cooked anything- oh, how she wished there was someone here to help her! (She lamented this, though, really, if there were, she would only act proud and arrogant, and insist she needed no help. Woe to her, only just born and yet thinks she knows everything there is to know!)
Should she fry it? Scramble it? Make an omelet?
Maya couldn't decide. She toiled, paralyzed by her own indecision, inexperience, and anxiety. Then, suddenly, the egg began to shake- it quivered in her palm- and suddenly- it cracked! And a little yellow chick came out. It made a courteous bow to the puppet, and said to her:
"A thousand thanks, Mistress Maya, for keeping my shell safe! Good bye forever, unless we should meet again!"
And the chick flew out the window, and Maya was left much hungrier than before.
The night became stormy and wild, winter air whipping all over the place, rain and thunder, lightning so vicious it seemed as if the heavens themselves were warning the puppet to stay indoors.
Which Maya most certainly did, of course, because she was much too shy to think of going from house to house looking for a bread crust.
And so, she remained hungry, unsatisfied, and bitter, though not cold, and she eventually fell asleep with the fire at her feet.
When she woke up the next morning to the sound of knocking, a most terrible thing had happened: in the night, the embers of the fire had crawled up from their ashen bed, and burnt her feet off!
Oh, dear, she thought. And to think this would all have been avoided if she had done the honest thing!
"Open the door!" came a voice from outside. It was Geppetto! He had been freed from the jail and had returned home. Maya felt both dread and excitement at the prospect of not being alone anymore.
At least this one, she thought, sitting up, Has the decency to knock before entering!
She thought bitterly of the cricket.
"Open up!"
Maya stood to open the door, but came tumbling down to the ground! Without feet, she could not walk, only lay there and wail like an infant. How useless she was!
"I cannot!" she yelled.
"Why not?"
Now, Maya thought it very embarrassing to have burnt off her own feet with her carelessness. She was a very delicate creature, with only a day in this world, and to admit failure was a fate worse than burning one's own feet off! A fate worse than death!
And so, she resolved to lie about it. This is the first of many lies that the naughty puppet would tell.
"My feet have been eaten!" she said, and, miraculously, her nose grew.
"Eaten?!" Geppetto exclaimed, "What manner of creature has eaten your wooden feet?!"
"The cat!" she said, only upon having seen the cat, Noga, playing with some wood shavings by the fire. Her nose grew a little more.
Geppetto, like the Cricket, did not take her words at face value. "Open the door this instant!"
"I tell you, I cannot! I have no feet!" and then she felt very sorry for herself again, which seemed to be the only thing she had felt in the very short time she had been alive. "Please, believe me!"
Geppetto, now feeling very angered by the girl's tricks, climbed up the wall and through the window, and then felt horribly sorry when he saw that she, indeed, had no feet to stand on!
"Poor girl!" he exclaimed, and took her up to the workbench. "How did you ever manage to burn your feet?"
"I don't know!" she lied, for to the girl, admitting blame was embarrassment, and embarrassment was worse than death. She could have explained the whole thing to him, but she chose not to, for her pride and embarrassment (which were really the same thing).
"Will you make me new feet?" Maya asked. She did not want to ask, but she also did not want to be stuck walking on her knees forever.
"Why should I do such a thing, after you hurt yourself so?"
"I promise, I will be good from now on!"
"All girls," Geppetto said, crossing his arms, "When they are set on obtaining something, tell the same story."
"But I promise!" she didn't like having to ask twice.
"All girls," Geppetto repeated, "When they are set on obtaining something, tell the same story."
"But I am not like other girls, who are shallow and vain!" she insisted, "I will go to school and study well! I will never miss a single lecture! I will finish all of my homework on time!"
Geppetto, although stern, could not deny his creation her freedom any longer. He was a soft man at heart, and seeing the poor thing in tears over the things from the night that she withheld from him, was enough to break his iron will.
And so the old woodworker fashioned her a new pair of feet to walk on, and gave her his meager breakfast to sate her hunger. Finally feeling some happiness, Maya stood and walked about the room on her new feet.
"Now," he said, "You will go to school."
Maya suddenly realized what she had done. In her desperation, she had made a promise she no longer wanted to fulfill. She had first thought that being made to perform on a stage was a fate worse than death, but this was even worse than that! For what was school but not another stage to perform on?
Furthermore, Maya didn't possess the sort of focus one needed to succeed in school. She would much rather have run about freely, playing games and staying indoors, as she had told the Cricket.
"But," she said, trying to stall, "I have no school clothes. All of the children will laugh if I have no school clothes!" Which is true, and the thought of being laughed at was almost as terrifying as school itself!
But Geppetto, in spite of his poverty, was a resourceful man, and so he fashioned her a little dress of flowered paper, a pair of shoes from tree bark, and a hood from the crumb of a bread.
"Now," he said, "You will go to school."
"But!" she replied, stalling again, "I have no spelling book. All of the teachers will scold me if I have no spelling book!" Which is true, and the thought of being scolded was almost as terrifying as school itself!
At this proclamation, Geppetto left the little room, and Maya sighed a breath of relief. Certainly, he had given up on this school idea, and had left to work!
But then he returned, a spelling book in his hands, missing his old coat.
"Where did you get that?" she asked.
"I sold my coat for it. Now, you will go to school,"
And then Maya was rushed out the door with her book, her clothes, and a great burden on her shoulders.