Extracts from Rapunzel & Petrosinella

The following is two paragraphs, non-related extracts from a revived short I just completed, the first half of which was composed five years ago:

The bidding braids of Rapunzel, in all their magical enchantment, were still dead and death. Seemingly potent with the sorcery of life, they were without pulse. Hair is dead, and in the case of Rapunzel it was malignant; the sultry blonde curls that poured from her head were the pernicious pathway to a Prince's blindness.

After all: it's only temporal. Petrosinella's curse was a nano-rhythm, and the agony that spilled from her death was in fact the birth of an inevitable sentience. Her infidelity from the witch was enough to emancipate her from her prison, and it also reduced the Prince to only one sense: love and longing. He wandered the Black Forest in search of what he wanted -- the only thing he wanted -- and when he found it, the salty tears of reunion were his requitement from blindness.