Name: Rebecca

Teacher: English (Martha Close)

Year Completed: 2002

Assignment Commentary: For a creative English project, we were asked to choose any fairytale and rewrite it by either changing the context, or point of view of the story. I chose Godfather Death, by the grim brothers, and wrote in the view of one of the characters in the story.

My name is Peter Tref, and my story is my breath. As my words roll down my tongue, and in you mind are strung, your only choice is to embrace the sounds of my voice. Notice the beauty the story contains, and its purpose guided in my frames; full of its own meaning, more than what you are seeing. So listen carefully, as I - now old and frail- tell thee, through my few ending breaths, the unique tale of Godfather Death.

Under the horizon of the sunset, over the view we see from afar, and behind that thick, soft fog is a small precious village enclosed and protected by the crisp green hills that bloom with life throughout the year. Kleines Stüch, “little peace”, was its name. And such a beautiful name fitting the village so perfectly. There was nothing special about the villagers themselves, but no matter what difficulties, all was at peace. Peace; the sacred word of that village, my village.
I lived on the edge, alone, my door window peeking secretly through those secure hills. Although I was still young at the time, I had no intention to marry. I enjoyed the solitude, the silence; me alone with my sheep and cattle.
It was a cold, unusual afternoon in Kleines Stüch when Thomas, a dear aged friend of mine, came knocking on my strong wooden door. He came to me with a decision he had the misfortune of making, and needing my help and advice. Thomas, once a handsome, dark haired, green-eyed, intelligent and strong man, had married young to a woman more beautiful than the moon and pure as cream. They had lived fully and happily in the center of the village for 55 years. Now, 60 years later, he is an old man. Frail and thin, he came forth to me with a baby in his arms, claiming that it was his. Although his wife’s hair was as white as the moon, they were mysteriously blessed with a child, a young baby boy. And yet, her weak body gave in shortly after birth, her heart stopped beating as she silently floated to heaven. Now, Thomas was faced with the determination of what to do.
Knowing his time would soon come when he would join his dear wife, he decided the best thing to do for the child was to find another parent. How? He did not know, and that’s why he came to me, with the child in his arms.
“Peter, what can I do?” he asked me. There was desperation in his voice; “I can’t just leave him…” I could not answer him. I could only look at the child, so peaceful in his arms. His body, small and delicate, the same as his smile. His beautiful marble green eyes wide and curious staring around at the world he arrived to. He had a smooth dark complexion, clearly taking after his mother. So innocent, he was. I felt my heart racing unexplained love for this boy. I couldn't keep him, though, I knew nothing of children, and I was too young.
Sighing heavily, I suggested “ Give him to me. I will take him to the edge of the village, and give him to whomever comes through and is willing to accept him.”
“What?! You’re just going to give him to a complete stranger? Why can’t you take him?”
“You very well know that I know nothing of children, besides I am too young and it would best if the boy had a dependable godfather. My dear friend, do not worry of whom I will give it to, I will wisely choose and know who would be the best godfather.”
Hesitating, Thomas resentfully outstretched his arms as I embraced the child. So delicate was he. Thomas, his eyes blurred from tears he held back, softly gave the child a tender, fatherly kiss on the boy’s forehead, and slowly –as if in a trance- walked away. He looked back only once to confirm his decision. I still stood there, the baby in my arms. He turned; vaguely fixed his gaze forward, walking a quicker pace away from his treasure he could not possess.
The baby’s cry shattered the moment. It was cold out, and I quickly took the baby inside to my warm fire. I sat in my rocking chair and gently rocked while singing a soft tune. The baby ignored me at first, but as I continued, he quieted into a small sleep. I rocked, watching the boy sleep while I thought. Tomorrow I would take this dear boy to the edge of the village, as I told Thomas, and would wait for the right godfather to come. I fed the child the thick warm milk from my cattle and continued rocking for hours until I fell into an uncomfortable sleep.
The sun awoke me. The coals had died down during the night, just as my willingness to let go of this child. I was not ready for what I had to do. I glanced down once again at the boy, (he was still asleep) wondering for a second whether I should simply keep him. No, I couldn't. I said I would find the right godfather, and I was not the right one.
My journey had started early in the morning; the delicate treasure attached to my front in a sack I had cut to make a basket. I arrived by midday and settled myself down for a long wait while I started to feed the child, singing all the time to keep the child from crying.
I did not have long to wait. God came walking down the road and said to me “Give the boy to me, I will be his godfather.” I stared at God attentively, analyzing him. God had very little compassion. He allowed many people to suffer, and had created many conflicts and hardships for we humans. He favors some while others are shunned. No, he is not the father for this child. I replied to Him, “God, you are the powerful one whom everyone respects, including me, but you cannot be the godfather for this child.”
Moments later, the devil comes along and says to me “Give the child to me. If you let me be his godfather I will give him gold as much as he can use, and all the pleasures of the world besides.” The devil had a heart of stone. How could he give any love to this boy? I thought, no, this child could not be wasted into a world of fire, neglect, and negative emotions. So yet again, I replied “Although you are well respected, devil, you cannot be the godfather of this child.”
Time passed by, and the cold was approaching. As the sun was on the verge of setting, death walked by and said to me “Give me the child. It you let me be his godfather, I will make him rich and famous, because the one who has me for a friend shall want for nothing” Looking through the endless pit inside his hood, I saw a man of equality. “You, Death, take rich and poor without distinction, you would be will the godfather of this boy.” I replied to him, confidence in my decision. Handing him to death, my emotional attachment to the boy took the better of me. I silently pledged to watch the boy grow throughout the years.
Death was a perfectly fine godfather. The boy grew into a strong, handsome and intelligent boy. His eyes still the marble green they were the day I held him in my arms, yet his complexion lighter, now his father’s characteristics more visible. His name was Philip.
One day, since Philip was of age, Death led him into the woods. I secretly followed them by pretending to be an innocent man going into the woods to chop wood. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Death showed Philip a small, soft green herb, which grew there, and said, “ This is your christening gift. I shall make you into a famous doctor. When you are called to a patient’s bedside I will appear and if I stand at the sick man’s head, you can boldly say that you will cure him and if you him some of this herb he will recover. But if I stand at the sick man's feet, then he is mine, and you must say there is no help for him and no doctor on earth could save him. But take care not to use the herb against my will or it could be the worse for you.” Philip looked up at his godfather with those eyes, taking in the lesson with awe.
It was not long before I had heard of the most famous doctor in the world named Philip. ‘He looks at the patient and right away knows how things stand, whether he will get better or if he’s going to die.’ said the paper. He had cured patients all over the world, and I being one of them. I did not see Death, but I hoped with all my might he was standing at the head of my bed. Philip released the relaxing words that said he could cure me. I would continue to watch the boy grow.
Now, the king had fallen ill, and Philip was summoned to say if he was going to get well. I drove his cart and accompanied him to the room where the king lay, pale as the moon. Philip walked up the bedside and look at the king. I saw the blood disappear from him face, and his marble green eyes become glazed with despair. Although I could not see, I knew, Death had stood at the foot of the bed. But, to my astonishment, I witnessed my dear Philip lay the king the other way around so that Death was standing at the head. Philip then gave him some of the herb and the king began to fell better and was soon in perfect health. I had to keep my shock to myself, for I was the only other one who knew his knew Philip secret, and the warning Death had told him.
Later, Death came to Philip, his face dark and angry, threatening him with a raised forefinger and said, “You have tricked me. This time I will let it pass because you are my godchild, but if you ever dare do such a thing again, you shall carry away with me.”
Yet, soon after, the king’s beautiful daughter lapsed into a deep illness. Being his only child, the king wept and said anyone who could cure her would become her husband and inherit the crown. Again, I accompanied Philip as he came before the beautiful princess’s bedside, and saw to his despair, Death standing as her feet. The wanting of becoming her husband pushed the warning of his godfather out of his mind. And, not seeing Death’s angry glances and how he lifted his hand in the air and threatened him with his bony fists, he picked the girl up and laid her where her small feet had lain. He fed her some of the herb and soon her cheeks reddened and life in her stirred anew.
Death, his face furious, saw himself cheated of his property the second time, strode toward the doctor on his long legs and said, “Its all up with you, and now it is you turn,” he grasped his hand harshly as he led him down. Once again, I had no choice but to follow my beloved Philip into, what I was sure, was his doom. Death led him down deep into the ground, thousands of steps downward, into nothingness. I silently arrived to a room without walls with lit candles of all sizes covering the floor. Every moment some went out and others lit up so that little flames seem to be jumping here and there in perpetual exchange. And Death below said to Philip, “Look, these are the life lights of mankind. The big ones belong to children, the middle-sized ones to married couples in their best years, and the little ones belong to very old people. Yet children and the young often have only little lights.” Philip stared at the candles, the lights reflecting in his eyes as he asked Death “Where is my candle?” imagining that it must be one of the big ones. Death, with no expression on is face showed Philip a little stub, threatening to go out any moment “Here is it”. Horrified, Philip begged “Dear godfather, light me a new one, do it, for my sake, so that I may enjoy my life and become king and marry the beautiful princess.” “I cannot” Death calmly replied, “A light must go out before a new one lights up.”
Silence covered the walls. Philip simply gazed as his light, reflecting fear in his eyes. Nothing could be done. I stepped down one last step so as I could at least say good-bye. Philip heard my heart thumping as he glanced over his shoulder. The breeze from his turn was strong enough to put out that candle. His eyes enameled, he fell to the ground.