The Witch Queen
Oh, that bratty little child! Apple of her father's eye! As I think this, I am pacing my chambers in a rage that knows no limit. I am no longer the fairest, she is. Prancing always with dainty feet to the wretched tunes she draws on that little harp! She sounds like a song bird. I would wring the necks of all song birds if I could! Even hers. Especially hers! Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, lips red as blood. I would love to see that ebon-black hair matted to her scalp by blood, her "white as snow face smeared with it! I must get rid of that child! Fairest in the land! HA! I should be, but she is! That, I cannot stand. I will not stand! She must die!
I rush to the door of my chamber and call out to the guards.
"Summon my head woodsman, now!"
I wait impatiently. How should she die? Where is that woodsman? Ah, he approaches. I hear his step.
"Come, come. I have a task for you. I want Snow White taken into the woods and deprived of her life. How, is up to you, but bring me her heart as a token of the job well done."
I dismiss the woodsman and sit in front of my vanity mirror. I draw the comb through my dark hair. I am envious that it is not as "black as ebony". Ah, well, I will not have to be troubled by that comparison any longer. I spend the time necessary at my mirror to apply the cosmetics that make my lips "red as blood" and my face "white as snow".
The woodsman returns with a small cedar box. In it, bloody and oozing, is the heart of her I most hated. I dismiss the woodsman and he leaves, looking pale and sick. I pay him no further mind.
I roast the heart and eat it as a symbol of my triumph over her who was the fairest. Peals of laughter ring and echo off the chamber ceiling. I realize it is my own lovely throat issuing that joyous sound. My step is confident, stately, as I stride over to stand in front of my magic mirror. I ask the question I always do: "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
Its reply stabs into my heart.
"Thou wert the fairest 'tis true, but Snow White is fairer far than you."
I rage. I smash, not the mirror - it is too valuable. I order the woodsman to death. I am spattered by his dying pulse. His lifeblood covers me. Why, oh why, couldn't it have been Snow White's blood?!
I rant. I rave. I calm. I think. I plan.
I go to my deep chamber of dark magic. There I brew malice for my enemies. I fabricate a poisoned comb. This is the way I will conquer the ebony mane! It is fitting. I disguise my beauty in the garb of an old woman. Dreadful enchantments cause my face to wrinkle and my complexion to dull.
I appear harmless. I arrive. I knock. I wheedle. She lets me in. The child! I will be her undoing!
I place the comb and she falls. No one will ever revive her. She is as good as dead. I stand over her senseless body and laugh. I am fairest once more!
I return, my feet barely touching the ground in my joy. I ask my question of my magic mirror.
The mirror replies: "Thou wert the fairest 'tis true, but Snow White is fairer far than you."
I growl as I race back to my dark room. Another spell I weave. Her slim figure I will kill with my poisoned laces. Another guise. Another old hag. She, as stupid as before, allows me to enter.
My aged and cracked voice lulls her into allowing me to do her laces. She falls. I triumph. Crafty evil wins over insipid good!
I question my mirror. That stupid rhyme tells me that again I failed. What lucky star was this brat born under?!
My hand quivers as I reach for the book with the deepest enchantments. Surely in this wicked tome there is some way...
Apple of her father's eye? By this spell she will die!
One cheek is red, the other white. The red is poison most deadly. She will not escape this time!
At the first bite of my poisoned apple she falls.
I ask my mirror again.
"Thou, it canst be said of you, you are the fairest, it is true."
I am content.
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Author's notes -
One of my assignments way back when in high school was to write a well-known fairy tale from a different point of view. Most of the class opted to write from the hero's point of view. I thought it would be more interesting to delve into the villain's point of view in the story I was assigned.
*Sigh* I got an 'A' on my story, but was also sent to the school counselor's office for a 'discussion'.
Reviews, comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome! Please feel free to email me also if you see something awkward that needs to be clarified or fixed. I need all the help I can get!
stargarde@stargarde.com