Chapter Five
I could barely run because my skirts kept getting in the way. My basket kept thumping against my side and my hair was falling out of its bun. But I could've cared less right then as I ran for a reason I did not understand. All I knew was that my legs were moving and my mind slowly followed. I had no idea to where I was running and when I would return. No, he said I mustn't return. But why? Because my stepmother hated me. She wanted to kill me. Why? Because I was prettier than she was. Why did life have to come to this? For this question, I had no answer.
I ran and ran, panting and all my limbs aching with fatigue, but I did not stop. My stomach growled with hunger as the hour waned. Finally, utterly exhausted and too miserable to carry on, I collapsed on the grass, falling almost immediately asleep.
I awoke to complete darkness. Forgetting where I was, I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Then it all came back to me like a stone being dropped in the pit of my stomach. I looked around me, but I could see farther than my feet. The woods was a completely different place at night. I enjoyed its splendor and peace during the day, but I could not tolerate its evil and blackness when the sun went down. Shivering in my thin gown, I felt for my basket and pulled out the shawl that had held my wrapped lunch. I made sure the food was still in the basket, for my stomach ached with hunger and then wrapped the cotton shawl around my shoulders. It didn't do much, but I only cared for food at that moment. I had devoured my apple and two of the blueberry scones when I thought I heard a rustling in the bush near me. I jumped out of my skin and scrambled to my feet, grabbing my things. I dared not move after that.
Then an owl hooted above me. I yelped and started running. I crashed into a number of trees, but I kept moving as fast as I could, my heart beating faster than my mind could process what was going on. Then suddenly there was no ground under my feet and I went sliding down a bank into a stream. Right then and there, I started to cry. Shivering of cold, wetness and fear, I sat there on the muddy bank till I thought my eyes could produce no more water.
I was generally a happy person, was I not? But for that to be true, I needed sunlight, people to be happy with, things to be happy about, everything I was denied of right now. My basket had probably floated down the stream and my shawl was stuck to my drenched skin. There I sat, trembling, in the darkness for hours on end. When morning finally broke, I could not have been happier. I began to sob again in relief and stood up, every part of my body aching.
The woods was now a pretty place. I looked around me as if to find a sign of somewhere to go, but I found nothing. The sun and the daybreak were of course very welcome things, but with them there was a sting. The sun dawned on the first day of my loneliness.
Now I have said that I had always been very content wandering alone, picking flowers, and humming to the tune of my own song, but being alone and being lonely are two very different things. I had never been truly alone in my entire life, even when my father had died. There were people like Erin to brush my hair and to listen when I spoke, and Margaret to bake me delicious concoctions from her kitchen, and. Teddy.
But this time I was alone. Completely alone. There would be no Erin to listen, no Margaret to smile over the stove at me, and no Teddy, my first real friend. I was by myself.
Of course, I could take this positively. The well had given me what I wanted most. No more orders or slaps from my stepmother. I could do whatever I wanted. Never before had I had this kind of freedom. But now that I had it, I wanted nothing more than to be in my father's arms, listening to him tell me a story and running his fingers through my hair, and calling me his "little Snow White." I had always been told to be careful what I wished for. But I never intended to have this go the way it did. I could never return to my home, the only home I've ever known and the only friend of my age I've ever had.
My mind constantly returned again and again to Teddy and his friendliness towards me as I walked farther into the wilderness that day. He was going to call on me today, he said he would. If only I could've been there to receive him. A thought suddenly occurred to me. My stepmother wanted me dead. She sent John to kill me and he couldn't do it. He would probably tell Teddy that I was dead. My stepmother would probably tell him I was dead. I would never see him again.
Was it really possible to trample on all your dreams in the course of one day? I thought to myself. Yes, apparently it was. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself now. It would be better to kill myself than to live my life alone pretending to be dead to everyone else. But no, I would survive this. I would find something. Teddy would've wanted me to live. No, my father would've wanted me to live. Yes, live and prosper. And so I would, for him.
Filled with a new strange sense of courage, I set off to begin my different life in a new world.
I could barely run because my skirts kept getting in the way. My basket kept thumping against my side and my hair was falling out of its bun. But I could've cared less right then as I ran for a reason I did not understand. All I knew was that my legs were moving and my mind slowly followed. I had no idea to where I was running and when I would return. No, he said I mustn't return. But why? Because my stepmother hated me. She wanted to kill me. Why? Because I was prettier than she was. Why did life have to come to this? For this question, I had no answer.
I ran and ran, panting and all my limbs aching with fatigue, but I did not stop. My stomach growled with hunger as the hour waned. Finally, utterly exhausted and too miserable to carry on, I collapsed on the grass, falling almost immediately asleep.
I awoke to complete darkness. Forgetting where I was, I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Then it all came back to me like a stone being dropped in the pit of my stomach. I looked around me, but I could see farther than my feet. The woods was a completely different place at night. I enjoyed its splendor and peace during the day, but I could not tolerate its evil and blackness when the sun went down. Shivering in my thin gown, I felt for my basket and pulled out the shawl that had held my wrapped lunch. I made sure the food was still in the basket, for my stomach ached with hunger and then wrapped the cotton shawl around my shoulders. It didn't do much, but I only cared for food at that moment. I had devoured my apple and two of the blueberry scones when I thought I heard a rustling in the bush near me. I jumped out of my skin and scrambled to my feet, grabbing my things. I dared not move after that.
Then an owl hooted above me. I yelped and started running. I crashed into a number of trees, but I kept moving as fast as I could, my heart beating faster than my mind could process what was going on. Then suddenly there was no ground under my feet and I went sliding down a bank into a stream. Right then and there, I started to cry. Shivering of cold, wetness and fear, I sat there on the muddy bank till I thought my eyes could produce no more water.
I was generally a happy person, was I not? But for that to be true, I needed sunlight, people to be happy with, things to be happy about, everything I was denied of right now. My basket had probably floated down the stream and my shawl was stuck to my drenched skin. There I sat, trembling, in the darkness for hours on end. When morning finally broke, I could not have been happier. I began to sob again in relief and stood up, every part of my body aching.
The woods was now a pretty place. I looked around me as if to find a sign of somewhere to go, but I found nothing. The sun and the daybreak were of course very welcome things, but with them there was a sting. The sun dawned on the first day of my loneliness.
Now I have said that I had always been very content wandering alone, picking flowers, and humming to the tune of my own song, but being alone and being lonely are two very different things. I had never been truly alone in my entire life, even when my father had died. There were people like Erin to brush my hair and to listen when I spoke, and Margaret to bake me delicious concoctions from her kitchen, and. Teddy.
But this time I was alone. Completely alone. There would be no Erin to listen, no Margaret to smile over the stove at me, and no Teddy, my first real friend. I was by myself.
Of course, I could take this positively. The well had given me what I wanted most. No more orders or slaps from my stepmother. I could do whatever I wanted. Never before had I had this kind of freedom. But now that I had it, I wanted nothing more than to be in my father's arms, listening to him tell me a story and running his fingers through my hair, and calling me his "little Snow White." I had always been told to be careful what I wished for. But I never intended to have this go the way it did. I could never return to my home, the only home I've ever known and the only friend of my age I've ever had.
My mind constantly returned again and again to Teddy and his friendliness towards me as I walked farther into the wilderness that day. He was going to call on me today, he said he would. If only I could've been there to receive him. A thought suddenly occurred to me. My stepmother wanted me dead. She sent John to kill me and he couldn't do it. He would probably tell Teddy that I was dead. My stepmother would probably tell him I was dead. I would never see him again.
Was it really possible to trample on all your dreams in the course of one day? I thought to myself. Yes, apparently it was. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself now. It would be better to kill myself than to live my life alone pretending to be dead to everyone else. But no, I would survive this. I would find something. Teddy would've wanted me to live. No, my father would've wanted me to live. Yes, live and prosper. And so I would, for him.
Filled with a new strange sense of courage, I set off to begin my different life in a new world.