The true story of Rumpelstiltskin, a Movie Pitch

Inspired by this writing prompt: https://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/its-my-story-and-ill-pitch-if-i-want-to

Time: 40 Minutes

The little man tapped his toes against the sides of the chair, in a beat only remembered by those of the old traditions. There weren't many left. Some might say he was the last of those that lived in a time when gold could be spun from wheat. While his feet moved rhythmically, he pulled at his thick, bushy beard nervously, twisting them into curly clumps.

Today was a big day. Today was the day he might just put to rest the lies about him, both slander and libel. It had begun with those damn Grimm's fairy tales, those fool brother's had written. Well, actually, it had begun well before that, but oral tradition didn't have quite the lasting power of written. It had absolutely torn his heart to pieces to have himself written about in such a way. Sure, he could be cunning, surly, and every bit of the trickster he was described, but to put more emphasis on the supposed wretched existence of that young woman he'd helped, and who'd reneged on their deal, was unconscionable .

He felt a sharp pain in his chin as he tugged at the hairs in frustration, tearing out a few strands. He put a fire in his heart that would have banished the butterflies in his stomach if at that very moment the doors to the office hadn't suddenly swung open. A man in a tucked in button up shirt, with the top button unfastened, walked through the threshold, pushing the door open. He had a notebook in his other hand, which he brought up to his face.

"Ahem." he cleared his throat before saying, "Rumpl... Rumplst... Rum..." He struggled with the name, and quickly the little man interjected. "You can just call me Rump."

The buttoned up shirt guy raised his brows to him and smiled. "Are you sure?" The little man nodded emphatically, eager to move on. The guy shrugged and motioned for Rump to follow him.

Rump hopped down from his chair, his bushy beard bouncing with the motion, and timidly followed the man.

Back in the day important things had also been made to be grand and cavernous to the little man, but for some reason, the austere minimalism of the modern day felt far more intimidating. There was no soul to it. It was nearly impossible to devise what type of person you might encounter in an a building like this. At least with princes and kings, or queens and princesses, you could see all sorts of signs of what they valued. Rump had taken great pleasure in his ability to devise plans on the fly based on what he saw in a room. He'd once considered himself a great improviser, but now it was impossible to anything close to that.

He was relieved to find, once he was in the office room, that there was a smaller table, not one of those long ones where one person could be twenty feet on the opposite side. The two other men and three women who occupied the room sat in a crescent shape, all facing one side of the room. On that side there was a TV.

The buttoned up shirt man gestured to that side of the room. "Go ahead. Start whenever you are ready." Rump nodded and skipped on over to the TV, trying to look confident with every step.

He turned, looked at the group, and breathed in deep, and then began. "Once upon a time there was a downtrodden people of a forgotten age..." He began with a flourish of his hand to accent the tale.

"Wait. Sorry. I didn't see the notes. One second." One of the ladies in a purple bloused said.

"Oh, m... my... Apologies." Rump sputtered. Ack. Not a great start dammit.

The lady simply waved a hand in response. "No, no. I have them now. Please continue, Mr. Rum, rumpl..."

"He goes by Rump." The button up shirt guy said helpfully. Smiling at Rump from the corner of the room chair he'd taken up. The lady nodded in response, and turned to look at Rump, raising her brow expectantly.

Rump cleared his throat again. "I'm... I'm good to go then?" No one responded, they just stared at him. He gulped loudly, the noise reverberating against the tiled ceiling and mostly empty office.

"Eh... Oh yes. Once upon time there was a downtrodden people of a forgotten age. A small people with large hearts. Sometimes they were called gnomes, sometimes they were called fairies, and at other times sprites. These people kept to themselves, because they understood the true ways of the world. They could extract the beautiful designs the earth had hidden within the threads of fate. This made them appear magical to others. This is a tale of one of those people. We start the scene in a hut..."

"So it's a fantasy." One of the men said, not asking a question. He was the larger of the three, and had a deep voice. His face was bulbous which caused his eyes to seem perpetually in a squint. It would look abnormally if it weren't for the fact that the more defining trait it imbued him with was intimidation. Rump had scanned the faces of the other Execs and found this man to appear the least interested. Though, he had asked the first question.

Rump was tripped by the question. It wasn't a fantasy to him. It was real, but to these humans, as always, it did seem far fetched. "uh... Sure. Yes."

The man leaned forward. "Hard sale. Fantasy is growing in popularity, but still doesn't make the same numbers as super hero movies, or other action movies. What's the proposed budget."

Rump nearly lost his composure, his face growing hot. He'd hoped to get more time to explain the preface of the story. "I couldn't exactly say, though it wouldn't have to be a bi... big budget."

The man casually rested back in his chair, interlacing his fingers over his large stomach. "Single location? A few of these sprites creatures doing the odd magic. Doesn't sound compelling to be honest."

It felt like a hand was grabbing at his insides and twisting them. "There's more! It's not really about the sprites, or um... popparts, as we are actually called, but about a single one, me."

"Oh yes? And why are you so interesting? You should have started there. Look Rump, let me give you some advice. Pitch Decks. They allow us to review your proposal, and follow with you. This is standard. You are entirely unprepared. I don't even know how you got in here to begin with."

A blonde lady, with an austere expression, raised a hand next to him. "Jim, I invited him. We have a mutual friend who told me a little about his idea, and I think it's interesting. Maybe we let him finish some of what he has to say before passing judgment." It was immediately clear who was the ruler of the room. Rump hadn't actually met the woman before, but messages had been passed between them.

A bead of sweat dropped down his forehead, and though he still felt like his insides would soon be outsides, he couldn't pass up this sudden show of grace. He nodded in thanks and continued.

"We see a poppart - that's my people - in a hut. It's a modest hut, one that shows how little a person demands of life, especially when you consider their... um... abilities. This particular fellow, had long found himself alone. With no one to share his life with. The others, or humans as they are called, came and conquered the lands, edging out its natural people's long ago. The poppart, we'll call him R, had long been left to his solitary life, not willing to abandon his ancestral home. One day he got an idea on how he could fix this little problem. There were constantly people in need. The humans were good at taking, but they weren't good at giving. This left many a person without, and perhaps in their hour of need R could strike a deal. Performing such arts as are known to him and his people he tuned into the frequencies of fate, and wouldn't you know it, he heard a plea. It was a prayer. A young woman had been tossed to a dreadful fate by her oaf of a braggart father, and found herself at the mercy of a merciless king. Knowing that humans could not perform the same arts as popparts, or other such creatures, the father had claimed that his daughter could spin wheat into gold."

The large man raised a hand that made Rump pause. "Uh yes?"

"I know this story. It's that one by the brother's Grimm. It's well known. Are you trying to sell us on making a movie based on that Rumpl... Rum... Rumpel... stid... skern?"

"Well. In a way." The large man shook his head with displeasure, and laughed mirthlessly.

the ruler leaned forward in her chair. "I have to agree Rump, that the way you are pitching this is not how I heard it. It's basically the same story, that we have all heard since childhood. Can you skip to the twist? Where it gets interesting."

Gulp. These guys didn't play around. Still, having those blasted brothers mentioned once more, and their book of lies, raised his hackles. "Ahem. I'm sure you have heard that lie from those filthy pillocks, and that is the whole point of why I am here. To set the record straight. The hero of that story is not the king, the father, or even the beautiful young lady, who becomes a mother. No. They were deceiver's who took advantage of an already persecuted people. I'm not going to mince words here, those fopdoodles, the Grimm's, told a tale of a poor girl, but it turned out it was all a scheme to get me to make gold free of charge. The so called "farmer" was a foreign noble, under the facade of a salt of the earth type, and his daughter was already betrothed. In reality, the king was horribly in debt to the father, but still a royal. To hedge the bet the father was making, the daughter conceived of a plan to make me labor for them without charge. The invoked ancient rites, and the power of a person's name, to force me... uh... erm... I mean R. to share my people's gifts with them. Those selfsame gifts that they so abhorred and then reason they chased us out in the first place."

He felt as if he were foaming at the mouth, and though he did feel frothy, he also felt alive. Like he'd never felt before. It was the first time anyone had heard him speak the truth.

The austere lady lit up, and turned her chair to the rest, grabbing their attention. "Can't you see it? super relevant story to the times we are in, with a folkloric twist. This is the shit A24 is busting out by the dozen each year, and seeing major returns. A dark and gritty tale. No one's a hero. Single location. Small cast, small budget. Authentic mythos, in a picturesque setting. A not lighthearted Wicked. The true story from the supposed villains perspective."

No heroes? Supposed Villain? Apart from all that, he was feeling it. She was absolutely right. How he wished he'd known who his benefactor would be. Still, she was human. He'd have to tread lightly. That would come at another time, now he needed to focus on th others. How were they receiving it?

Rump scanned the room, and saw small nods. Even the large man seemed deep in thought as he considered what the lady and he had said. The large man unlaced his fingers, and bent forward, resting on the table. He took a deep breath, and sighed it out. "I think you are right. There is something there, perhaps. I'd still like to see a fully fleshed out pitch deck, and no way this guy... um... Rump, is the writer right? Seems all a bit flimsy."

"We'll have it ready, Jim. The pieces are there. I think Rump here takes more of a historical supervisor role with the writer, cast, and crew. Authenticity here will be key. Look at the Witch, budget of 4 million, and grossed over fourty million worldwide."

"Well. Don't love how this went, but I'm convinced. Laura, you get me that deck by the twentieth, and I'll promise a look." The large man slapped his legs, and stood up. Everyone else followed suit, buttoning up their jackets, flattening the wrinkles in skirts, and gathering their notebooks and pens.

It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it felt like progress. You didn't get to his age being impatient.

The group filed out, leaving only Laura, his benefactor and himself, standing in the room.

Laura smiled at him. "That was almost a disaster, but I was able to salvage it. There's a lot of work ahead of us, and the next few years won't be easy. Hell, the next few weeks. But, I know what I'm doing, and I really do think there's potential here. Though hey, I do need to ask."

She paused, and he raised his eyes expectantly to her. "Yes?"

"So I know we didn't really get to this part, but what was the whole deal with the baby. Was that a part of the trick too?"

"Huh? Of you mean the promised child they were going to give me?"

She nodded, frowning.

"That was the worst part of it all. I spun the wheat into gold, for many nights. Not just three. Until there was a whole treasure trove of gold. The king was more than out of debt. And after all that, they didn't even give me their first born. The gall."

Laura gulped. "Oh. so, like... that was actually part of the deal."

"Of course. I was super lonely. I needed a friend."

Her face lost a bit of color, and her mouth dropped open, bouncing as she tried to form words. "That's... well that's really weird, to be honest. Good for the movie I think, but I wouldn't own that, if I were you?"

"No? That's fine. Never did get a baby in the end. Always thought I'd be a great caretaker. Anyways..." Starting to feel much better as the preceding events began to settle on him, and his stomach finally relaxed, he trotted towards the door. "We should get started. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's an honest days work."