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Desired Beauty

A Re-Imagination and Short Story of Snow White

By Wulfwaru the Lonely WriterPublished 6 years ago 12 min read
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What if the Evil Queen was smart enough to not make an antidote, much less leave Snow White in a deathly stupor?

Mirror, Mirror

It was a rather dull mirror, age wore at its edges. Cracks adorned it here and there. The woman staring at it, however, was outrageously gorgeous. Venus in human form, her eyes were two fiery green orbs while her hair was as black as the night with but one silver streak, highlighted amongst the black waves that cascaded over her pale marbled shoulders.

The woman's brow knitted in disgust as she twirled her finger around the single silver clump, her eyes burned in anger. She huffed in agony as she tried to hide it under the rest of her black hair but to no avail. The silver seemed to defy her every attempt to hide to it.

Finally, she had given up and run her hand through her silky hair, wishing that she had the power to reverse her aging. She had the power to compel men to their knees before her, to call upon the ocean and swallow armies at sea. Sirens had nothing compared to her looks or her voice that charmed thousands in her lands and commanded masses. She could command her entire kingdom to march to her bell and tear themselves apart with their bare hands. But the woman hadn't the power to stop her aging, much less stall it.

"Whatever can I do?" The Queen thought to herself miserably.

Then the idea came to her. It was so simple. She would ask the mirror. The mirror must know what to do. The dark magic inside could answer her every whim.

The Queen stood firm and commanded the mirror.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall," the evil queen said, admiring her own figure in the mirror's reflection," who is the fairest of them all?"

The large mirror then came to life, the cracks were fading and the wear disappeared as if it were never there. The Queen's reflection seemed to change before her and soon she was staring at her reflection, whose eyes were pure black.

The Queen's reflection then spoke slowly, "Though you are quite fair, there is another who is more so..."

At those words, the Queen's beautiful face turned sour, her voice hissed like a serpent's. She was so sure the mirror could lighten her dour mood.

"What do you mean, 'There is another who is more so?'" The Queen barked. "Am I not the fairest there is?"

The mirror grew silent. The Queen's reflection faded as the image of a young maiden appeared. Her skin was the palest the Queen had seen and the maiden's lips were as red as blood while her long, curly black hair adorned around her heart-shaped face perfectly. The girl was simply ravishing—her thick eyelashes boasted two dark coals that seemed too innocent to be real.

The Queen's face contorted in anger, red fluster was climbing up her neck and her voice was low.

"Who is she?"

"She's the fairest of them all," the mirror replied, "You are no longer the fairest, your Majesty."

The Queen spun away from the mirror, her hands were trembling as a single tear traced down her high cheekbones. The mirror returned to its previous state, the cracks and worn edges reappearing as they were before.

"I'm not the fairest," The Queen said shakily in pure disbelief. "I'm not the fairest."

With sadness, The Queen walked down her lonely halls. There were no servants in sight for it was too late at night. The Queen always kept her conversations with the mirror in private—she wouldn't risk the chance of the people rising to revolt against a witch.

At the end of the hall stood a heavy wooden door worn with age, its hinges were rusted but still strong. The Queen produced an old key from her sleeve, unlocked the door as silently as she could and strolled in and locked the door behind her. This room had been abandoned by the rest of staff for years. Of course, The Queen was the only one who possessed the key.

It had been some time since her last visit to this solitary room. The last time she was here, her grandmother was being burned at the stake.

The Queen sauntered in, her thin, elegant hands tracing over the alchemy instruments. From mortars and pestles to larger alchemic tools. She had everything a healer would kill to have. She knew so much about magic—and yet—she knew so little.

On one of the shelves, she found a dusty old book that was her grandmother's and skimmed through until she found what she was looking for.

"Ah, this one," she said to herself as she sat it down on a nearby table and began to throw the ingredients in a cauldron. "A formula to transform my undeniable beauty into pure ugliness. Change this queenly raiment into a peddler's cloak."

The Queen looked around in search of the required ingredients. "I'll require mummy dust to make me old and haggard. To shroud my clothes, dirtying them like the black of night. And my voice, an old hag's cackle. Then my hair will need to be whitened."

The Queen stopped unsure of the requirement, she wandered back to the book and read more of the spell's contents.

"Ah! A scream of fright! And a blast of wind to fan my hate."

The Queen stood firmly and pointed at the mixture, lightning sprouted from her fingertips, "A thunderbolt to mix it well." With a commanding voice, she stood over her creation, "Now, begin thy spell!"

The Queen covered her eyes as the mixture swirled in a blinding light and then settled down into smoke. With an evil grin, The Queen waved the slithering smoke away to reveal the most gorgeous apple she had ever seen. It was as red as the maiden's lips, the very shine of it was beautiful to behold.

The Queen snatched it from the bottom of the cauldron and held it close to her lips. "When she breaks the tender peel, to taste the apple in my hand, her breath will still and her blood will congeal."

Then, The Queen gave the apple a kiss, "And then I'll be the fairest of them all." As she kissed the apple her appearance changed into that of a hag's.

What's the matter, dearie?

In a nearby forest, drowning in golden sunlight, a maiden danced in the woods. Her ebony locks swayed in motion. With a hymn from her childhood, she swirled and sang with the purest and whitest smile. Her sweet singing lured fawns to the edge of the clearing, birds of vibrant colors come and perch on branches tweeting with her song.

Then, a fox with red and white fur approaches the maiden hesitantly, his nose searching the ground as he peeks up here-and-there at her.

The maiden sees the fox and his fearfulness, she stills and drops to her knees with outstretched hands as the fox steadily comes forth. He sniffs her fingers before giving them a gentle lick. The maiden giggles and slowly pets the fox's ears as he purrs.

Like before, the sweet maiden started humming a tune, this one more beautiful than the last as the fox purrs with her in sync.

The chirps of the birds suddenly stop, alerting the maiden. The birds flee with the deer and fawns just as the fox darts away in fear.

"Who's there?" the maiden calls out. "I know someone is there!"

From the edge of the woods, a frail old woman shuffles quietly, her back hunched and her clothes little more than sacks. "Oh! Sorry to frighten you, my dear!"

With a sigh the maiden places a hand over her breast, "Sorry, I'm not used to company."

The old lady comes closer towards the young girl. "Ah, I must rest my old bones," she said, as she carefully lowered herself onto a low-lying log covered in moss. The maiden, however, didn't join her.

"What's the matter, dearie?" the haggard old woman cooed, patting the spot next to her, "Don't be shy. I don't bite."

Hesitantly, the young girl walks closer and sets down beside the old woman.

Silence passed between the two as they watched the scenery and the returning wildlife.

The old lady heaved and cackled with jolly, "I was your age once, girl. I used to visit the woods at night despite my father's stern warnings."

With new interest, the maiden intently waited for the older woman to continue.

"Oh! I used to be a wild one," The old woman said. Her voice was rough and the wrinkles and warts on her leathery skin spoke with unseen wisdom, "and I was the fairest too—believe it or not."

Like magic, the old woman produced a luscious green apple from her rags and polished it the best she could. The young girl's mouth began to water as she watched the hag clean the fruit until their eyes met. Green orbs met the maiden's black ones.

"Are you hungry, dearie?"

No words were needed as the maiden nodded and licked her red lips.

The crone gave a rotted, toothy smile," I think I have another one, my dear. If you would like to have it." Then the older woman pulled out another apple, this one a deep red. "Here, just for you." She said handing it to the maiden whose hands were as soft as cotton while the hag's were rough and her nails were yellow with dirt caked underneath.

Just before the maiden was about to take a bite of the red apple, the hag laughed.

"Us girls, we have to stick together," the old woman smiled, "Now go on, eat!"

Watching the maiden intently, the crone continued to laugh as the girl took a bite of the beautiful red apple. The maiden chewed and swallowed the bite, but before she could thank the kind woman who had shared one of her apples, she found she couldn't speak.

"What's the matter, dearie?" the crone asked wickedly," Cat got your tongue?"

The realization hit the maiden, the old woman had poisoned her. She tried to stand up, but only prevailed in falling forward. She watched in horror as the crone cackled evilly and straddled her, the woman's leathery, dirty hands caressed her face and her nails scratched the maiden soft skin.

"Lips red as the rose," the old woman said tracing the maiden's lips, "Hair black as ebony. Skin white as snow."

The young girl desperately tried to fight back, but her body wouldn't move. Her muscles were like stone as she laid there looking into the old woman's fiery green eyes with shock and horror.

The hag laughed viscously again, "Give us a kiss, dearie." The old woman's lips were cracked and dry as she pressed them against the maiden's forcefully.

"Why don't you come home with me," The older woman said with mischief glinting her green iris', "You don't look so good."

With a cackle, the old woman lifted the maiden up and into her frail arms as the wind around the whipped violently before they were whisked off in a vortex of lightning and darkness.

The Fairest of Them All

When the wind had slowed down, the maiden noticed that she was no longer in the woods. She and the hag who had poisoned her were inside a lavish room with a large mirror. In the center of the room was a bathing area in the floor of marble.

The old woman the dragged the maiden to the middle of the room before dropping her carelessly. The maiden laid on her side helplessly as she watched the crone step back and stretch out her arms as a golden light engulfed her. When the light faded, the old woman was no longer present. Instead, a finely gowned enchantress was before her with eyes of green fire. A crown of silver graced her head perfectly.

"Did you like my disguise, dearie?" The Queen said with the smoothest voice the maiden had ever heard.

The maiden tired to answer but her lips stayed sewn shut.

The Queen placed a hand on one of her hips and grinned, "You know, it's rude to not answer when spoken to."

Without so much of an explanation, The Queen turned away from the girl and spoke to the mirror.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, what should I do with the fairest of them all?"

Again, the mirror came to life. The edges shined and sparkled with newness, the cracks dissipated and the Queen's soulless reflection graced her with an evil grin. This time, the mirror answered differently.

"If you wish to be the fairest, Majesty, then the maiden must die."

Horror struck the maiden as she watched The Queen turn to her and then back at the mirror.

"And how will I preserve my beauty?"

The Queen's reflection in the mirror held a certain aura of evil, as it smiled at the scenario before it.

"Spill her blood..." the mirror said, "Drink her blood."

The Queen waved her hand and the mirror returned to its worn state. She looked back the girl whose eyes were clouded with fear and questions. Something about the girl's fear and agony satisfied the witch, made her feel alive and young.

Within mere seconds, The Queen was before the maiden's frightened figure with a dagger pressed against her throat.

"Your blood alone..." The Queen said as she gripped the dangerously sharp dagger. "I will be the fairest."

"But," The Queen said with an evil smile, "One last kiss, my dear."

She gently kissed the maiden passionately as she cut her throat open. The maiden's eyes bulged as she laid there unmoving. The Queen trailed her lips down the maiden's chin and over the blood pooling from her neck. Slowly, she licked away the blood as more and more poured from the girl.

When The Queen stood, she felt young and energized. She gazed at the dagger in her hand dripping with the maiden's sweet blood before she licked it away. Her eyes met the young girl's as the life faded from them. The Queen stood there and watched the maiden until her last breath escaped her blood red lips.

With satisfaction, The Queen turned away and looked into the mirror, the grey in her hair faded away becoming black. What few wrinkles she had disappeared before her eyes. At last, when she was completely satisfied with her appearance, she summoned the mirror once more.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"

The cracks in the mirror disappeared and the worn edges had become clear, The Queen's reflection answered back.

"You, my Queen, are the fairest of them all."

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About the Creator

Wulfwaru the Lonely Writer

I'm an aspiring writer who has nothing better to do than write.

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Contact me at [email protected]

I started on Wattpad, FictionPress, and Writer's Cafe for support.

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