"You know they're calling you an 'Evil Stepmother." said the Mirror. She scoffed.

"Pure idiocy is what it is."

"Well you sort of justify it." He nodded towards the shotgun on the counter. "Are you sure this is necessary? I mean it really seems kind of drastic when you think about it –"

"Then don't think about it, Paul." she snapped, calling the Mirror by his name as a means of mild punishment. She turned away before he could reply and he watched in disdain as she pulled on a pair of trousers, and black T shirt, hauling the shotgun over her shoulder as she headed out, grabbing a cap off a hook. He called after her.

"C'mon Erica….."

Erica slammed the door. She made it out of the house unseen by her boring, sullen husband and into the courtyard, met by a dusty gust of wind that stung her eyes so she had to bow her head, striding forward past the gate, past the stables and past the garden until she made it off the estate all together. She stood on a wide, dirt road, looking with satisfaction at the mass of red trees in the close distance.

This is so simple, she thought, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. It was ridiculous she hadn't thought of this before, troubling herself with poisons and the science of effective strangulation, each time failing out of complexity. This time, she was going to show up at the cottage and blow that lovely little head off before it caused anymore trouble – for both of them. Loveliness never did anyone any good – look at her for example. She 36 and married to a man twice her bloody age for god's sake! And there was no way it could be annulled. So in a way, she was doing the girl a favour. That couldn't be evil could it?

No. She decided. No, she couldn't be evil because evil does not exist. There is only history and perspective.

Erica walked into the forest, full of red leaves littering the ground and the air, making a pretty contrast against the white sky. It would have a made a great picture, she thought, looking up.

She continued to walk, picking her way though stones and heavy slants in the path that led to steep hills before finally getting to the cottage.

I should have gotten a silencer, she thought, bringing the shotgun to position, cocking it, the butt pressed against her shoulder as she remembering to lean forward slightly, her left foot out. She kicked the door noisily.

"I am not allowed to let anyone in." replied Snow White, her voice light and airy like the pompous child she was. "The dwarves have forbidden it most severely."

Typical, controlling men. Maybe she'll shoot them too for good measure.

"Oh I'm not coming in." she called. "Um….I'm with the Miner's…..Union….."

"Oh yes! The dwarves have been talking about you! I'll be right there."

Erica heard rapid, eager footsteps and she curled her finger around the trigger, trying not to tense up as she could feel her heart beating – wasn't she suppose to shoot between heart beats to keep the gun steady? Or was that just for long distance?

Snow White opened the door, smiling welcomingly for a split second before registering the barrel pointed at her forehead.

Erica pressed the trigger with an explosive BANG!, surprising her, causing her to flinch and for Snow White to recoil violently, red bursting from her forehead as she flopped backwards onto the stone floor, her eyes rolled back into her head to expose the whites, wide open.

Erica lowered the gun, stunned and slightly horrified. She peered down at the dead girl with skin as white snow, lips as red as the gaping crater in her forehead, and hair, shiny with blood, staining it blacker than ebony.

It was an ugly sight.


Turned out a bit darker than I thought...so what did ya think?