Fairy Tale Revised in the Lens of Literature & Disability

A fairytale rendition of “ The Maiden Without Hands” ; A group project December ‘21.

The following document is a rendition of the Grimm brothers’ tale, “The Maiden Without Hands.” Our rendition of the fairy tale incorporates Victoria Lewis’s moral/charity model of disability, social model of disability, and medical model of disability to showcase the lived experiences of an individual with disabilities and to explore different attitudes towards disability. We invite readers to generate their own interpretations of the various models of disability within the story and illustrations. — Chloe Moody

The Maiden Without Hands

Table of Contents

The Foreword, by Chloe Crull

Chapter 1: The Miller Meets the Devil, by Yuna Kang

Chapter 2: The Devil Visits, by Michaelene Gabriel

Chapter 3: The Maiden Goes Off On Her Own, by Tanya Jain

Chapter 4: The Maiden’s Life with the King, by Chloe Crull

Chapter 5: The Baby is Born, by Zoe Crowe

Chapter 6: The Maiden Leaves the Palace, by Yuna Kang

Chapter 7: The King Searches for the Maiden, by Zoe Crowe

Illustrations by Tanya Jain

Illustration Captions by Michaelene Gabriel

Works Cited

Request Access to Read the Story * here.

*this is a group project. Coauthors’ consent is pending. I will publish the entire story if coauthors consented the publicity of their work.

For now, here’s the part I wrote on Chapter 2.

Chapter 2 : The Devil Visits

The last yellow leaf on the apple tree fell. The winds blew and the emerald lawn and apple tree behind the mill were clothed with the first snowfall of the year. It was freezing everywhere, and one dark night, the cabin seemed to disappear beneath a void of white snow. Inside the cabin, the miller’s devout and beautiful daughter lit a candle. It was her third year worshipping God and living without sin, as her father kept her in the cabin throughout the years.

The beloved daughter grew into a beauteous maiden, and the miller enjoyed his riches, hoping that perhaps the devil had forgotten their deal, and his daughter would be safe. He enjoyed the warmth of his cabin built of jasper walls. He danced that night with his wife as his coat, adorned with jade, amethyst, and topaz, swayed with their every leap and twirl. The maiden smiled happily, clapping her hands.

Knock! Knock!

The miller rose from his seat and opened the door. He saw no one, but a familiar letter, signed with his blood three years ago, was pinned on his door. It was the contract that marked that the miller’s time was up, and now he had to repay what he owed. His hands shook violently. He looked around and pushed the door closed, but a rapid gust of wind opened the door widely. There, the miller saw the old man, missing both of his eyes, and the soles of his feet crooked like the sole of a calf’s hoof.

“Time iz flying fast and we don’t hab longg. Give me whut iz due. I’ll collek whut iz mine” the old man spoke, grinning widely and so the miller could see that he was missing half his tongue.

“Oh Devil! Devil!” the miller exclaimed, as he recognized that it was the devil who had come back and taken the form of this old man.

The miller did not understand immediately what was demanded because he was so stupefied by what he saw. The devil limped and swayed as he stepped on the bent sole of his foot. He struggled to walk, but entered the door successfully, and although he was missing both of his eyes, he moved swiftly and made his way to the beautiful and youthful maiden. However, he could not get his hands into the maiden because she had washed herself up until she was perfectly clean, and had drawn a circle around her with chalk, and held a lighted candle which she lit during her nightly prayers to God.

The frustrated devil hissed to the miller, “Youu owe mi whut waz prOmized…Your blood sealeD the deal come aend giVe mi the maiden n0w. She is Too clEAn. KEep water aWaey from her, so she cannOt waSh herselp, and I can come clOsER”.

The miller sweated and turned a chalky white. He did what he was asked. The maiden was very sad, so all night, she wept into her hands, and her tears cleaned her tender hands.

The next morning, the devil came back. He came to get the distressed maiden but was surprised that he still could not approach her, and now could not even get near her room. The miller looked frightened and saw that the devil was grinding his teeth, a vein was pulsing in his temple, and his blind sockets were hollowed.

The devil was clearly displeased, “I still cannut geT neawr her! I gwive youu my shaRe, now I. cayme to cowllek whut youu. prOmized,” he growled like a wolf, “Chop off heR hands! Then She wILL be unCleAN!”

“ No, no, no,” the miller sobbed, “ I will not! How can I chop off my only daughter’s hands?” he asked, horrified.

The devil grinned. His lips stretched tightly over his teeth, and his half-tongue was hanging on the side of his mouth. He hissed at the miller, “Youu du whut I sey… If youu don’t du it, I’ll take yOur own blOOd az a paymEnt for whut iz due”.

All at once, a storm wind came out of the north, and a great cloud, with thunders of horror surrounding it, flashed forth as the devil left. The miller was soaking wet as the water and wind swept through his door, and he was frightened that the devil would slit his throat, killing him like a poor chicken, and drink his blood. He was trembling so badly that he almost crawled as he tried to reach his daughter’s room, where she was braiding her beautiful, luscious hair, “My daughter, the devil came back. He wished me to chop off your hands, and if I do not, he will kill me instead.”

His wife heard what was asked. Terrified, she placed her trembling fingers over her lips. She was disturbed and disgusted by her husband’s desperation, and the lengths which he was willing to go to save his wretched skin.

“No, no, no, my darling daughter… I knew this day was coming, how unfortunate for us! Tell the devil to take all that we have and let our daughter live whole and complete for the rest of her life!” she pleaded with the miller.

The miller fell to his knees and his chin trembled. “I know that, if I do not, he will kill me. I promised to obey, and he will not let us escape without bloodshed.”

The maiden, with tears welled up in her eyes, looked unto her father and her mother. She wrapped her mother’s frame in her arms, and after, came to stand before her father and touched his face tenderly with her hands, “My father, I owe my life to you, and I love you dearly. Do as you will, for I am your child.”

Ignoring all the fine bladed axes and shining butcher’s knives they had bought with their wealth, the miller collected his abandoned handsaw from the mill, and solemnly chopped off his daughter’s hands as she willingly extended them.

For the third time, the devil came back. His forehead was wrinkled from frustration, and his jaw tight, and to his dismay, he found that chopping off the maiden’s hands did not corrupt her at all. He was enraged that he could not come closer to the maiden. She was so pure, and her obedient soul shone bright in the windows of her eyes, so that even in his blindness, the devil could not ignore it. The maiden had wept all night long. Her pure and glittering tears had cleaned the stumps of her hands and made her pure as ever. As the devil lost all his power on her, he went stock still, burning holes into her with his hollowed, blind eyes. The devil gave up, walked limping with his soles like a calf, and left empty handed.

The next morning, the warm sun shone brightly and melted all the snow. The cabin and the apple tree appeared again from the cold void. It promised the fresh colors of life. The miller entered his daughter’s bedroom and saw her sitting in front of an unlit candle. He noticed her hair, a fine-spun silk normally woven into neat plaits down her back, was tied in what appeared to be a single limp braid- most of her locks had escaped it- falling limply around her shoulders, as if she tried to braid her hair and failed. The miller gazed at his daughter, stricken, “My daughter, do you want me to light the candle for you? I shall take care of you in abundance with the wealth we have as long as you live. Ask for whatever you desire, and I’ll grant your wish.”

The maiden responded, “Oh dear father, you served me so well and provided me with a roof, but I can’t stay here anymore with you and mother. I must go far, far away, and live off the kindness and compassion of other people. Farewell father, farewell!”

Here is a portrait of the crying maiden, made with scribbly, delicate lines. Her tears and sorrowful face are the focal points on the page. She gazes tragically at her handless arms. Her hair is disheveled, and looks as if it is swallowing her, and strands of her hair in the background appear blurred compared to the strands across her face.

Illustrations by: Tanya Jain