I wrote this a year or so ago. It's not the best thing ever; in fact I'm vaguely embarassed by it, but still. Here you go, enjoy. Or don't =)
The Perception of Morality: A Snow White Adaptation
Cecilia sat on the bank of the river, her dark blue gown pulled about her knees. Her shoes, a similar colour to her dress and patterned elaborately with sapphires and diamonds, rested to her right. Her feet danced in the calm running waters of the river, gracefully pushing it from side to side.
Her hair, a wonderful rusty shade, fell below her shoulder blades, shaped in perfect loose waves. Her eyes were a breathtaking tone of blue; so bright and clear they looked as though she'd plucked them from a child's doll to replace her own. Her face was flawless; high cheekbones, a perfectly symmetrical nose, delicate pink lips. Her skin was pale and free of any freckle, mole or blemish.
Cecilia was widely acknowledged as the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom. Of course, being a Princess of said kingdom did bias this view somewhat, but even so, the most objective viewer would have had difficulty finding any woman who could surpass her beauty.
Aesthetic beauty was not her only charm, and it was hardly surprising that even at just seventeen, a man had already fallen in love with her, and she with him. The man, named Alvern, was not Royalty, but from a very highly respected family with close ties to the Royal Family. He too was held to be very handsome, with large, lively brown eyes and wavy dark blonde hair which swept over his face in a roguish fashion.
Cecilia held the silver locket around her neck close to her; it been given to her as a gift from Alvern on her birthday, and was her most prized possession. It contained a miniature portrait of Alvern on the left side, and a small mirror in the other.
"I wanted a picture of the both of us in there," Alvern had told Cecilia on the day he had given it to her, as she held the beautiful locket in her hands.
"But I didn't want a picture of you as you look now,"
Cecilia looked up at Alvern, her brow furrowed.
"You are beautiful now," Alvern reassured, "but I wanted you to know…I want you to know that I'll love you not just at this moment, not just as you are now, but as the days pass and as we both grow old and grey. I'll always love the person you see in that mirror."
Cecilia had told only one person of what Alvern had said to her; Neci, her oldest sister. Neci had only laughed, calling it 'incredibly soppy' and stating that she hoped to the heavens that she would never have to go through the 'ridiculous charade of romance'.
Cecilia was unaffected by her sister's cynicism. As much as she knew how dramatic Alvern's words were, she knew he was sincere, and fell even deeper in love with him.
Cecilia sighed, falling back on the grass. She had not seen Alvern in over a week, and was eagerly anticipating her dinner with his family that evening. However, though Cecilia knew the dinner was still hours away, she could not bear to wait any longer. Standing and slipping her feet, still wet, inside the navy shoes, Cecilia held a corner of her dress in her left hand and ran East, over the low wooden bridge and across the river, towards Alvern's home.
A bee flew unnoticed past Cecilia as she ran down the trodden path through a field of golden dried grass. The bee found no beauty in Cecilia, only in the landscape, the sky and the flowers. Though he had only a limited perception of beauty, he knew the perfection in his world; he saw the flawlessness of a poppy growing in a field. And perhaps he was right to prize a flower beyond Cecilia's human beauty, because a flower holds no evil. A flower may age, may wither, brown and dry, but it may never become malevolent. It has the ability only to grow, to breathe, to move with the sun. A human has the ability to show great beauty, great ugliness, or a chilling combination of both.
The large house of Alvern's family came within Cecilia's view, and she sped up slightly, slowing only once she was a few strides from the front door. She tapped the intricately designed gryphon door knocker against the light oak, and was surprised to find Alvern's mother, Mrs. Halligan, was the one to answer it.
"I saw you from the top window," she offered as explanation for answering the door herself instead of leaving such a job to a servant.
Cecilia stepped inside the house, and took a seat on a dark brown chair in the sitting room. Mrs. Halligan sat opposite her, with an expression on her face Cecilia did not recognise. Before Cecilia could ask Mrs. Halligan to speak with Alvern (though she found it odd that Mrs. Halligan had not already called for him), Mrs. Halligan spoke.
"I know you want to see Alvern, but I must speak with you urgently,"
Cecilia was now extremely concerned. She opened her mouth, but Mrs. Halligan held her hand up and continued.
"It is very important that you listen to everything I have to say before you speak. Oh, I do wish Mr. Halligan could be telling you this, but under the circumstances…" She trailed off, looking towards the many rings on her left hand which lay folded neatly on her lap.
"A week ago, Alvern and his father went on a hunting trip. It was early evening when they left, but the sky was dark with storm clouds. Alvern wanted to break in a new horse, Whiskey. Mr. Halligan warned him of the storm, of course, but Alvern insisted; said Whiskey should learn to handle storms. Mr. Halligan accompanied him in case he needed any assistance," Mrs. Halligan sighed, and when she next spoke, her voice seemed weaker.
"As you may remember, the storm of that evening was quite severe. Any thoughts of hunting quickly disappeared. Mr. Halligan wanted to turn back, but Alvern said the horse was coping wonderfully, and he wanted to ride her for just a little longer. Alvern ran Whiskey through dozens of fields, and the rain came down so heavily that Mr. Halligan lost sight of Alvern. He called for Alvern, but his voice hardly carried a few feet before him. When the rain let up slightly, which was not for an hour or so, he found Alvern laying face down in the mud, Whiskey long since vanished,"
Cecilia gasped at this, taking sharp hold of the arm rest with her right hand.
"Mr. Halligan took Alvern onto his own horse, and took him back home. He was in dreadful shape when he arrived; soaked to the skin, freezing cold, with a vicious cough. We took him straight to bed, of course, lit a large fire in the grate, bought him a change of clothes and some hot soup. The next morning, he didn't seem much better. He spoke once; said that Whiskey had been frightened by lightning striking the ground ahead of them. Alvern had been thrown from her back. He had tried to stand, but a terrible pain in his back kept him from moving. He couldn't remember much else until he was pulled onto his father's horse," Mrs. Halligan took a shaky breath, plucking a handkerchief from her sleeve and resting it over her eyes for a few moments.
"We…we called for a doctor. He arrived the following morning. Alvern had developed a fever. Dr. Goodrick said we'd just have to wait for the fever to break; there was nothing he could do. We wanted to tell you, but Alvern refused, said he didn't want you to worry, and he'd see you once he was well-"
"Can I see him? Is he still sick?" Cecilia said, tired of listening to Mrs. Halligan's long-winded explanation.
Mrs. Halligan opened her mouth to speak, but instead burst into tears.
"He's dead, Cecilia! He died last night!"
A few minutes of confusion clouded Cecilia's mind, and when it cleared, she found herself on the floor, screaming.
