Playmobil Detectives: Rapunzel - The Demon Ship-13

It was a tranquil midnight of Festivus, the atmosphere was vibrant with the mood of festivity and the decorations on the Christmas tree were already glittering merrily. It seemed like the world was ready to embrace Christmas. Nevertheless, in one little room inside the cabin of a ship, the atmosphere was tense, contrasted by two opposing emotions - that of joy and melancholy. The joy originated from the birth of a baby girl and the source of melancholy was the death of a lady, none other than the mother of the newborn. 

The nurse was busily trying to calm the baby, and the captain of the ship, also the husband of the deceased lady was standing quietly beside the bed, on which the body of his wife lay. Inside the cradle, Rapunzel cried endlessly, despite the nurse's efforts to try and calm her down, as if she was also mourning for her beloved mother. 

Without warning, the surroundings began to whirl around violently. Then, the scene changed completely. It was the same room, but the furnishings were very different. The Christmas tree, the bed and the cradle were all gone, in there places stood a Victorian grandfather clock, and on top of a luxurious Oriental carpet were a round table and two chairs. Sitting on the chairs were a governess with snow white hair and a young girl with golden hair in her teens.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, put away your diary," said Mrs. Cuboid sternly, yet not without a tinge of kindness in her tone. "It is still beyond my understanding why you should bother keeping a diary, especially when you have lots of work to do. Pray open your French grammar book to page quatre vingt dix neuf, we will start a new tense today - the Past Anterior."

"But I don't like French at all, its grammar is far too complicated," retorted Rapunzel, reluctantly putting her diary away. "Besides, when will I ever use it whilst on board this ship?"

"One day, you will leave this ship and marry a man with a high status. Then, as his wife, you will have to be fluent in French, as you will probably have French guests over at your house five out of seven days a week. Is that explanation satisfactory?" responded Mrs. Cuboid. "Moreover, your father, who encourages you to ameliorate yourself in your languages, has laid particular emphasis on your French grammar."

"He has always laid particular emphasis on my French grammar," replied Rapunzel. "He doesn't even know my level nor does even care. Indeed, I sometimes feel that he doesn't love me at all. His only love is this ship. That's why he named me Rapunzel, after his beloved ship."

"Rapunzel! I am very surprised at you!" answered Mrs. Cuboid. "Your father is just much too busy as the captain of this ship to have time to show his affection towards you. You know that he loves you more than anyone else in this world."

"I wonder if he keeps a diary," murmured Rapunzel. "That way, I will be able to find out what my mother was like. Papa never tells me anything about mama!"

Without warning, the scene changed again. Rapunzel was in a dimly-lit room, inside which was a large wardrobe. On one hand, she was holding a flickering oil-lamp and her other hand was busily opening drawers, seemingly to be in search of something. Then, she stopped after perceiving a book and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, Blythe opened her eyes, only to perceive Tiffany lying restlessly beside her on the bed, with a transparent, ghostly figure of a woman with long, braided golden hair sitting on top of her. 

~To be Continued~