The True Snow White

The queen surveyed her new chambers.  She stared at her reflection.  A teenager stared back and smiled.  Soft black curls framed rosy skin which in turn housed mesmerizing green eyes. 

            She turned away from the mirror.  A hot surge of youthful recklessness ran through her bones as she peered about the chamber.  She stopped dead.  The wave was halted by walls of solid fear and frozen to ice by her cold iron will.  A teenage queen should not act as an adolescent.  Her lineage made her powerful.  Her training made her wise.  She could not show traits of a teenager; her people saw her as middle-aged, after all.

            The crisis averted, Tatiana resumed her study of the new chamber.  Her usual utensils and instruction books were placed exactly where she had ordered.  The secret room off of the main bedroom was satisfactory.  Her pink worm lips opened.  A shrill sound sliced the murky air that one might mistake for the torture of a small animal.  A solitary form climbed across the ceiling and dropped down in front of her, responding to the summons.  Eyes of yellow pus looked hungrily at the mistress in black.  Pale fingers begrudgingly tolerated the yellowing talons clinking together patiently.  The queen looked at the face of the stupid goblin.

            “Dopey, get me some fresh changelings from the Forest.  Tell mother I need them to test my animate control aptitude.” said the one capable of intelligent speech.

            The hairless servant slunk to the open window, over the roses growing on the small garden, into the inky night, where he would not stop until he got what he was sent for.  It figured that she would have the stupid goblin as a servant, yet he was easy to fool.  Now Tatiana had time to herself, without the watchful eyes of her mother.  She sprinted to the master bed.  The black-clad monarch unceremoniously dumped her pillow out of its case.  The brown journal that fell out was seized and opened to a certain page. 

           

            Tatiana, age 8, Monday, Fall

Pricilla is so nice.  I wonder why she has red hair.  My other sisters have black hair like me; maybe her hair is why she’s nice and the others aren’t.  She taught me how to do a cartwheel today.  I fell and scraped my knee, but she healed it before Mother could see it.  I think Bashful was hiding, though.  Goblins don’t usually like the sun, but I guess he’s more scared of Mother than the sun.  He must have told her what happened because now Pricilla can’t leave the cave and I have to wash dishes without magic.  Pricilla wasn’t sad, though.  She smiled at me before she was sent to do practice drills for a few weeks.  I wish Mother would let her sleep some of the time, or at least watch her instead of hexing her to spells over and over before leaving for a few months.  Then again, I  could have been seen by Weaklings when my blood was shown.  Then mother would be very unhappy.

 

…

 

            Tatiana, age 8, Thursday, Winter

Pricilla was let out today!  Mother came back and let Pricilla’s punishment end.  I wanted to give her soup and meat, but she didn’t want to trouble me.  She made dinner tonight and promised to pick flowers with me tomorrow.  I wish I could be like her.

 

…

 

            Tatiana, age 8, Friday, Winter

She’s gone.  Mother said it was time for her to have her own kingdom, like our sisters.  I tried to see where they went, but there were problems.  Grumpy was with them, he went to be her servant and messenger to Mother.  He also covered their tracks while Dopey held me down.  Now I don’t know where she is or what her crown or dress looks like.  I’m sure she’ll be fine.  Mother will change her hair, though.  The rest of her, too.  I need to record who she was for future reference:  She had hair of Cosmos flowers.  She had eyes of acorns.  She smelled of the air after rain.  She always helped me and cared for me like a real mother would … She had a proud smile that isn’t repeatable.  She had hope like the North Star and powerful words to reach it.  She had calloused feet from playing hide-and-seek with me in the tunnels.  She was the wall between me and Grumpy’s fist.  She was my comfort when the goblins scared me.  She was my sister.  She’s still my sister … just far away in a different body doing different things because Mother told her to. 

 

            Tatiana read it hungrily.  A river of calm flowed through her, and she felt peaceful again.  She hid the book with caution and began to riffle through stacks to find the papers she needed to study.  Books tumbled off the top of precarious piles only to land on shorter ones.  A red book fell off of one pile and onto a patch of floor.  It was the color that caught her attention.  When she leaned down to see it clearer, she saw what was behind it.  A large, black volume with faded letters whispering “The History of the South Woods” hid a secret.  It lay at the foundation of a large literary mountain, but a careful hand and spell made haste with the challenge.  She had to hurry: Dopey should be back by dawn and the book was as thick as he was.  Tatiana skimmed the first twenty pages, skipping the preface.  History of the natives of the forest ... foretold an evil spirit would come … the natives were conquered and massacred … then she stopped.  There was a rectangular hole in the center of the book.  Leather stained with the terrible evil of all things dark and destructive formed the cover of the diary inside.  Her mother’s diary. 

            In it were three columns.  The first contained dates in black ink.  The second were royal names written in blood.  The third were names in silver.  The black times matched the death dates of the red names, and the silver glowing names represented their successors.  Her sisters’ names were in silver.  All seemed to be in order, so she looked down to the last row.  Her name was in silver.  The red name was Pricilla. 

            She had replaced Pricilla!  Why had the cycle broken? Why was her sister dead?  None of her sisters had ever died.  Why had mother eaten Pricilla?  She only ate pure hearts… “Don’t worry Tatiana; I’ll catch you if you fall!”  Red hair glistens in the sunlight.  Sparkling eyes and laughter race in the grass.  Mother walks away with Pricilla. 

            Tatiana shivered in her bed.  Small whimpers tell of the ocean of tears shed in agony.  Her life had been her sister’s death. 

 

            No more.  Pricilla was her light in the everlasting darkness of the witch now hiding in the dark forest.  The monster had taken her hope and feasted on its purity. …  Rage boiled in her veins.  Her knobby finger clacked against each other as she plotted.  It was time for the queen to have vengeance. 

            At the break of dawn the finest huntsman was summoned, forcefully.  He was sent to murder the vile traitor who had fled into the dark forest.  As proof of the wretch’s demise he was to bring her heart to the queen.  If only she could get that heart.

 

            The hunter set off.  His mind was no more the moment he set foot in the domain of monsters.  Goblins and shape-changers dwell there, werewolves and pixies dwell there, shadows and twisted nymphs dwell there, and all live in fear of the evil one.  All serve the evil one.  All will serve the evil one.  All have served the evil one… with one exception, and she was killed long ago.  The hunter stood no chance.  He was made to bring the heart of a goblin, who had been willing to die for the evil one, back to his ‘queen’. 

 

            The queen took the heart to her chamber.  If only she consumed it, with the right concoction, then Tatiana might bring some good to the world.  Bubbling cauldrons of snail slime and eyelashes fought simmering, smoking, sizzling, scorching beakers of liquid for room on the workbench.  Tatiana sweated and puzzled and referred over and over to the books.  With all this distraction, she almost didn’t notice the goblin slinking over to her. 

            “Dopey, I don’t have time for- I don’t care if you tell- just leave me alone so… leave!”

            A miracle happened.  His eyes looked straight into hers.  For a moment, behind the goblin drool, the space between the eyes, and the pale skin she saw a light in his eyes.  There was no lie or spell.  There was no simple repetition from another or recorded response. 

            “Miss, that heart is not hers.  …  I am sorry, Tatiana.”  

            After the shock, the tears, and the anger … after the execution and the remorse, there was light.  Tatiana was the light left from Pricilla.  If she was still trapped in Mother until her heart was in tatters, she had changed her.  Tatiana was … happy.

           

            Snow White conferred with her subject.  Her fair finger traced his blonde curls.  Her melodious voice swirled around his swaying head.  All vision hazed, all thoughts blurred, all the world was spiraling away except the one thread of sanity.  The figure of beauty was the world.  She was his light.  She was light.  She dictated light.  She was what he lived for.  Once he was unconscious she was content. 

 

            Tatiana was changed.  Her mother had betrayed her, killed her sister, and transformed her into a freak.  She resolved to free Pricilla, she must, it was only fair.  The puzzle was simply more difficult now.  She had to eat the heart that dwelled in her mother.  Thus, she had to kill her mother.  She had to evade the goblins, but they existed by the will of Mother.  Her sisters may plot against her as well, but they had less contact with Mother and Tatiana was sure Mother was arrogant enough to not ask for assistance.  Her arrogance was well-earned, though.  There were many spells and poisons to kill a witch.  However, she needed Pricilla’s heart intact and undamaged.  Tatiana clutched her head in frustration.  She dropped to her bed and gave a wail of lamentation and resentment.  How could she defeat, much less eat the heart of, the invincible evil one?  Knobby fingers combed stringy black hair in silence broken only by whimpers.  Despair lingered on the threshold of Tatiana.  Its gentle call beckoned her closer, closer, closer to the door.  Despair would comfort her.  Despair would hold her and remain close, a constant companion and reminder.  If only she would open the door…

            “I can help you.” The voice, made small from continuous rebuke, drove away the dark shroud that had captured her.  Dopey spoke.

            “H-How can you help me?” Tatiana asked.  Then inquiry turned into scorn.  “How can you defeat the greatest mastermind in the world?  How can you navigate the dark forest undetected?  How can you overcome six other goblins, all stronger than you?  How can you murder the greatest witch, who never loses?”

            The small goblin did not quiver.  He did not whimper.  He did not break.  He spoke five little words that became huge.  “Let her believe she’s won.”

 

            Snow White gazed at the cauldron.  All her domain was shown in it, and whomever she wanted to find would always be found in it.  She knew her youngest child would seek her heart tonight.  Her informant had told her.  Her informants were always correct.  If Dopey ever lied, his brothers would know.  The liquid’s color changed into that of images.  The mother was displeased with Tatiana; surely she had raised her better than this.  The simple spell had been easy to discover and correct.  Did her daughter seriously believe that hexing the townspeople to riot against the monarchy would distract her?  A single burning castle fighting the dark night was not a suitable distraction.  Did she think showing her chamber filled with blood and a dummy burned at the stake would be a substitute for her death?  Tatiana was foolish.  Democracies were difficult to rule, so Snow had the eldest man in every house massacred.  She reversed the hex to create fear and complicity in the country.  When that was settled, it was easy to follow the trees’ directions to find the wretch.  The elite six goblins were sent after the traitor with the usual instructions for the rare occasion: the heart must be intact.  Lips as red as blood grinned to show perfect teeth tear into fresh rat meat.  She would enjoy this. 

            A figure in black ran through the bitter forest.  She held closely to a charmed invisible cloak meant for a smaller wearer.  Ragged breaths came from her mouth; she had long given up on being silent.  A single branch snapped in the darkness and six figures revealed themselves to their prey.  Skin, so pale as to reveal many veins, covered their hands and under their eyes.  The remaining skin was mostly opaque and shedding.  Feral eyes of black reflected the bone-chilling moon as they locked on their bounty.  Bloodless lips parted to show sharpened rows of teeth.  Some carried axes; some bore picks; all had pointed claws inviting blood to their fingertips.  Snow had made them impervious to all magic Tatiana was aware of.  She had no chance. 

              Snow watched them tear her apart.  She weighed the odds, and decided to become part of their mind meld.  She would have to remind them not to devour the heart anyway.  She connected part of her to them and enjoyed the feast as if she was there.  Hair as dark as night was torn apart.  Blood as red as life ever was splattered the white snow.  Snow White relished the death of her youngest.

             

            In the midst of this, the Prince sent another gift to her door.  Snow White retained the connection to her entertainment to answer it.  Grumpy tore open her skull.  The old woman cowered before her with a basket.  The facial muscles were being fought over.  Snow grabbed the basket of fruit and waved the woman away.  The left femur was picked clean, and one minion was gnawing the white bone.  She set the basket on the table.  The alpha goblin claimed her stomach as he ripped open the middle.  Snow White screamed in their minds: The heart is mine! 

            She lunged at the red object before her and tore out a bite of… apple?  It had no blood; it was not soft; it was definitely not pure.  Snow White looked down at the off-white center of the blood red apple.  The old woman had not left.  Panic came by for an instant, but then fled as the toxin paralyzed her brain.  Realizing too late who had brought the poison to her threshold, the image of purity fell dead on the cold floor.

            The valiant daughter, brandishing a scalpel, set about freeing her dormant sister.  She returned through the woods without fear of the beasts who had fed on her mother’s evil.  She did not fear the dead goblins, the dead sister witches, the dead monsters, or the dead trees.  Snow White was dead!

 

Epilogue

            Tatiana raced through the village to her castle.  When she reached her chambers she could let Pricilla live!  She would need to write a letter, though, explaining why she was alive in a new body.  She would be confused and weep for Tatiana.  She smiled.  Somebody would weep for her death!  Pricilla would be a fair queen to the people.  Tatiana ran around the side of the palace; by the time she had opened the secret entrance tears ran down her pale face.  It was for the joyous tears that her vision was blurry when the prince cut out her heart.  For, he had gazed in the truthful mirror in Snow White’s last moments.  He had shattered it and waited for vengeance.  He had hidden behind the door when his love died.  He had watched and waited for Tatiana to enter, oblivious to Snow White’s last living ally.  He stabbed with ferocity and passion at her stomach with a blade laced with her own failed concoctions.  Her last blurry image was of his perfect black boot turning shades of red, stepping on Pricilla’s heart as he reached to hers. 

            A figure raced through the woods.  A shadow plunged into the deep recesses of the night to a figure as white as snow.  The dwelling that had served her had shriveled away as a starved beast would decompose.  The shadow, with eyes of black and lips of red, peered over his dead love.  Lips that had once commanded armies, cheered mourners, and tempted all women, now dripped with the blood of the fairest of them all.  A single kiss sparked the fire that had been washed away in flood.  The evil one had been recalled to the living as her daughter’s purity coursed through her.  The pets that had been dormant arose; the beasts that had been hidden emerged; and all doubt of her power had been purged.  The two walked to her palace: one servant, one master; one mortal, one immortal; one puppet, one puppeteer; one to live on with their life, one to die.

            They entered the suite together.  The fairest of them all laughed with bliss that can only be attained when all foes are known to be dead.  The prince, for his part, set about arranging a feast for the new queen and was halfway down the long staircase.  A piercing cry shattered the very air it claimed to rule.  Fairest blood fell on the stone.  The evil one was dead, forever. 

            The prince’s mind was cleared as light outshined the fleeting darkness.  He regained his senses and wisdom of the past few days and nights haunted him for all his life.  He ran back up the stairwell to see who had vanquished the evil one, master of all.  Upon the floor was the corpse, now ashen instead of snow white.  Crimson blood pooled around her punctured heart, of which protruded a shard of the broken mirror.  In the truthful shard, the two remaining saw their hearts. 

            The prince stared in awe at the free goblin.