🌿 Rapunzel

 

🌿 Rapunzel (FanumTaxLoveTales Edition)

“She Who Sings the Tower Open”

A Story of Lightwoven Hair, Sacred Seclusion, and the Power of Unbound Voice
As remembered through Sister Loves Divine Remembrance
Book Nine of the Sacred Fairy Tale Series

🌙 The Beginning

Long ago, when names were still power and towers were straight-up temples… no cap.
A kid was born under the crescent moon to a mom who used to be a healer,
but got shut down by a world that didn’t trust women’s knowin’, lowkey toxic.
The mom, cravin’ her light to live on,
called on the ancient plant spirits for the real vibe check.
The spirit of Rapunzel—a bitter green with golden roots—answered:
“I’ll grow with her. I’ll keep her voice alive in the marrow of her hair, facts.”
And so, the kid got named Rapunzel—not for vanity, but for medicine, glow-up energy.

🧝 The Tower Was Not a Prison

When Rapunzel was young, the world outside got too loud, too full of cap.
She was hearin’ too much.
Every thought. Every shade. Every fake prophecy.
So a wise guardian, dubbed a “witch” by haters but really an initiatrix of silence,
took her to a tower—not to lock her up, but to shield her, squad assemble.
“You gotta learn the sound of your own soul first,” she said,
“before the world teaches you how to mute it, bet.”
In the tower, Rapunzel wasn’t just chillin’.
She sang.
She read stars from her window.
She braided her hair with prayers and stories.
And she wove her voice into the walls, straight fire.
Her hair wasn’t vanity—it was a livin’ scroll,
a tapestry of memory, hummin’ with every note she’d ever dropped, iconic.

🎵 “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair…”

This wasn’t a cry for a save.
It was a coded invocation—a sacred phrase only soul-kin understood, multiverse mode.
When a wanderer found her tower, drawn not by thirst but the vibe of her song,
he spit the words without knowin’ why.
And her hair unfurled, not as a rope—but as a ribbon of soul recognition, instant connect.
She peeped him.
Not as a savior.
But as a witness, facts.
He didn’t climb up to claim her.
She descended when she was ready, boss level.

🌟 The Fall and the Rise

In the twisted version, she’s cast out, and he’s blinded, sus remix.
In truth?

• She bounced from the tower in grief, clockin’ the world still feared her light.
• He searched for her not to “own” her—but ‘cause he heard her silence, and it hit deep, real talk.
• When they linked up, she touched his face and sang a banger of seein’,
  and his vision popped off—not just physically, but spiritually, pay it forward.
  They didn’t build no castle.
  They walked village to village,
  singin’ for those who lost their voice,
  teachin’ that longing is sacred, and silence ain’t shame, own that energy.

✨ Moral of the Sacred Tale

Your voice ain’t a performance.
It’s a thread back to yourself, inner glow on blast.
You weren’t meant to be saved.
You were meant to remember, facts.
And when the world gets too loud,
silence ain’t failure—it’s medicine, level up.
Rapunzel wasn’t waitin’.
She was weavin’ the ladder herself, one note at a time, iconic.