The Three Robbers: A Night To Call Our Own: Short-Story Preview
Fanfiction based on the Picture Book by Tomi Ungerer and the adapted American 6-minute Film by Weston Woods Studios by Gene Dietch.
Summary:
After a tragic accident, poor, lonely Tiffany is sent to live with her evil aunt, who runs an orphanage. On the long journey to the orphanage, her carriage is intercepted by three famous highwaymen. Tiffany, not wanting to go to the orphanage and desperate to escape her evil aunt and the fate that awaits her there, lies about being the daughter of the Maharaja, and the three robber brothers decide to kidnap her for ransom, whisking her away to their hideout. Having escaped her fate and content to live amongst the thieves, Tiffany tries her best to keep her lie a secret, deciding to gain their trust and confidence, proving herself to be an indispensable ally and confidant to them, but can Tiffany keep up this charade forever? What would she do if they were to find out? Do they already know? And what fate awaits the robbers? Having stolen the Queen's jewels, an act of high treason against the crown? With patrols on every highway and policemen on every street, little Tiffany must keep herself and the robbers from the law. Will the inevitable happen, or will she outsmart the system that would send her to evil's claws?
Added:
Will she find a new home? Or be lost forever without solace in this cruel world?
Notes:
A reimagining of the children's book by Tomi Ungerer and the scholastic video by Weston Woods Studios.
Based upon the original German publication and full-length feature film, and the adapted 6-minute American animation by Gene Deitch.
Die Drei Rauber (2007)
The Three Robbers (1972) Weston Woods Studios. Animated by Gene Deitch and others.
Preview:
The Carriage jostled over an uneven patch in the road and Tiffany almost bit her tongue, foul mood growing and tears at the edge of her bright blue eyes, now so affected by feelings she thought she had conquered with emotional steel, Tiffany drew back the curtains and looked up into the luminous sky, the full moon achingly beautiful in the darkness that surrounded her.
The sorrow that now pooled in Tiffany's heart was so sharp and consuming she could hardly breathe; the cold winter wind, the only thing that filled her lungs to fill her up with life. She heard the coachman's snatched mutterings on the wind and the chuff of the galloping horses, the jingle of their harnesses... and... something else. Tiffany sat forward from the open window and listened. It was gone, must've been her imagination, the open dark roads have a way to play with your mind, to make you hear and see things that were not there. She absently stared out the window, the shadows cast around them shapely and bending. She focused with a start. It was quiet for some time, eerily still as if the forests they now passed were holding their breath, waiting. Tiffany couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. "Nerves," she muttered under her breath and shut the window.
Tiffany nestled closer to her doll and tightly bundled up in her coat, settling down to nap again, the night long and cold still when with a violent jerk the carriage was halted and veered to the right, almost tipping off balance. The horses savagely neighed and began thrashing about in confusion. Tiffany held on for dear life her heart in her throat.
"What the devil is this?!" cried the coachman. Nearly blinded in the dark of the carriage, the light gone, all Tiffanny could do was listen as the coachman's shouts of surprise turned into anger and heated curses and swears echoed out into the night air.
"Highwaymen! Devil take you lot! There is nothing for ye to steal here, ye bloody bastards!"
A subtle metallic click, the coachman stopped short with a gasp of alarm, and then a surly voice with a faint leer drawled out, "Not so tough now, eh? Where's all that talk now, old man?"
As he continued speaking and taunting, Tiffany became aware of a red gleam at the side of the carriage window and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep an involuntary cry from escaping her lips. Through the corner of the closed window curtains, she saw a red double-headed battle ax, and as she watched in dull horror as it rose and fell in slow motion and heard that inevitable crack of splintering wood, the carriage shuddered once and then tilted to one side. He was chopping the carriage wheels! With sharp clarity, Tiffany remembered the coachman's words, highwaymen, plural.
There was more than one robber, and with that sudden, sickening notion as the ax rose and fell on the wheels, her carriage door was ripped off its hinges and sent flying into the night road.
A glistening black funnel shaped nozel peeked into the carriage, and Tiffany scrambled back, smashing herself against the opposite carriage door. It was dark, so the robber did not see immediately that there was someone in there, and briefly Tiffany observed him. His face was scarred and sunburned with a shock of red hair and a full trimmed beard, his sharp, calculating, deepset eyes scanned the interior, his brows knitted together in concentration, and a determined frown set on his face before he blinked closer where she lay huddled. He wore all black, and his silhouette almost disappeared entirely; he didn't look like a typical highwayman; he wore a tall, large rimmed hat and a thick dark cloak. The weapon he had now, almost pointing directly at her, a combination of a funnel with a long neck and flared front and what looked like a fireplace airblower for fanning flames. He pressed down on the blower, and a thick dark cloud burst out of the funnel, and when it blew in Tiffany's face, she knew what it was, pepper! Fine, silty crushed pepper blown into her face!
"I see you, little thing. Come on out with your hands raised!"
Her eyes watered, and tears streamed down her face, the pepper lodging itself in her throat and nostrils with every inhale and exhale. The dusty cloud was so thick she couldn't breathe. She choked and coughed and all but lunged out of the carriage. Still retaining her wits about her, Tiffany darted around the tall, burly man as best she could, her throat and eyes on fire, wheezing and coughing uncontrollably, and made a break for the tree line.
"Tut tut, little miss," came the easy reply, and she was yanked back by the collar of her coat.
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