Reposted with new formatting.
Title: Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves
Author: totallystellar
Category: Horror/Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The classical fairy tale of Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves as told by the Brothers Grimm rewritten in the style of Edgar Allen Poe. Please Read and Review.
Author's Notes: Although I haven't thought of pursuing many more endeavors into the world of horror literature, it has been a consideration. This story was a Language Arts assignment: Take a classical fairy tale and rewrite it as Edgar Allen Poe might have. Here are the results. Enjoy.
General Disclaimer: Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves still remains in possession of the Bros. Grimm, and Edgar Allen Poe is just, as always, a role model for aspiring horror story authors and has nothing at all to do with me.
Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves♀ Segment One
My name is Snow-White. As long as I can remember, my evil stepmother,
the Queen, dominated my life. Her predecessor, my mother, was a kind Queen and
wife to my father, the King, but she died in childbirth. I try to reminisce
back into the short time that followed my mother's death, the only time when I
was without the presence of my stepmother, but as I was only a baby, I can't
remember much.
It seems to me that I must
have started out well, but, as I grew with my stepmother's constant presence
being my only guide to follow, my mind became a corrupted place of thoughts
instilled in me by my reprobate stepmother's example, and my life surely would
have turned into an emulation of the Queen's own cruel substitution of what the
kindhearted call life, but the pessimist unlucky existence, had I not realized
the useful advantage that being a girl enabled me. I could manipulate the
hardest of hearts by simply a flutter of my long eyelashes, by a pout of my red
lips, by a fake stream of pitiful tears down my porcelain-like white skin. Oh,
it was too amusing.
In short, I personified a
pernicious personage, equally perplexing in way of character and demeanor, and
in underlying intentions, and in seemingly innocent motives and preferences. My
façade was impeccable; totally and undeniably the most clever (in my own humble
opinion) of displays of acting that one might ever encounter, despite frequent
fraternizations with those of my sort.
The Queen was in possession of
a priceless artifact that would have inspired wonder in all that gazed upon it.
It was a Magic Mirror, a mirror that told its questioner the truth of whatever
it may inquire. It hung on the wall in her chamber, and she consulted it often
in her vanity, asking it questions of whom was richer, whom was the better, and
questions of that genre, but her favorite question was that of whom was the
fairest in all the kingdom. Oh, her conceit was too amusing! And one day I
spied her upon walking by her chamber one day, relating the very question to
her Mirror of Truth.
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,
Who is the fairest
one of all?"
And the Mirror answered in response that I was truly the fairer.
When I heard that I was
fairer, though it was common knowledge already, and flying fast among the
people, I still was happy as can be. But, it was my folly, my shameful folly,
that I should not have guessed that the horrible loathing of my stepmother
would increase, and that she would not put into action what she secretly would
wish. Of course, none must be as beautiful as her! So one day, as I played in
the garden and in the wood, a hunter came upon me and made to kill me, with his
knife. But I, of course, cursing myself for my stupidity of not foreseeing this
obvious repercussion of the Mirror's fateful words, made the hunter pity me
with humble knees bent and with heartbreaking tears running down my cheeks. He
let me run, and I found myself in the wood, alone, running away from the castle
for fear of my life. Oh, if it had not been me, it would have been too amusing!
After a while of running I
meandered through the woods, for though it was cold the sun was out and it
shone in patterns on the icy grass, filtered through the turning leaves. I came
upon a cottage of a sort, a small one, empty though not abandoned, and, upon
looking around for the occupants, and finding them departed, I pushed open the
heavy wooden door and stuck my head inside the premises. It was a larger inside
than it appeared from the exterior, and a large wooden table offered a simple
feast with wine in the goblets. Everything was tiny, though, and not wanting to
take all from one place, I took just a sip from each goblet and a morsel from
each plate. By then I was exhausted and found myself as if by an invisible
force drawn to the impending comfort of an assortment of beds, seven in all,
that lined the walls of a room up the stairs. But they were all of different
sizes, some long and some short, some narrow and other wide, and I found my
instinctive royal condescending criticism of the bedding initiated, and I bit
my lip as I inspected with much disdain the numerous beds from which I might
choose. They residents of the abode still had not returned, and I was
dreadfully tired, so I decided to retire into the furthermost bed, a soft one
with a plaid comforter, and though it's sheets were slightly rough with starch,
it was a soft mattress and it suited my weary, tired body well.
I awoke suddenly what seemed
hours later by a loud commotion by the doorway of the room of beds. I tried to
ignore it, being partly asleep, but soon I found myself being awoken by seven
dwarves, all with long beards and ruddy faces. I was frightened horribly for
they looked down at me with wide eyes and shock in their faces, and I feared
their wrath at my intrusion into their home. Had I not been afraid of rebuke, I
would have laughed at their strange little bodies, how amusing they were! But
they seemed happy at my being there, and we quickly came to a compromise that I
could stay with them in their humble cottage away from everyone if I would do
their housework and make their meals while they were gone. I jumped on the
prospect of staying hidden from the Queen, and so I began a life with the
dwarves.
The dwarves, loving creatures
that they were, took me in, caring for me, calling me complimentary names such
as "White beauty" or "fairest of damsels." We lived happily
for a time, but as their motherly kindness and attentive watching of me
continued from the second they came back from their work so when they departed
in the morn, I found what was once gratitude turning to burning hatred. And
with the dirty, ugly creatures (how had I ever found them nice?) wanting every
bit of my time, hindering my escape (which I had been planning since the
madness started to latch upon my mind), and surely - surely! plotting my
demise. But as my hatred and disgust grew, I bit my tongue wisely, for the food
good and the weather icy. But my patience grew thin - thin as to break with the
strain of my disguised hatred - and I decided, after much thought and little
debate, that I must dispose of the wretched half-humans. Dispose of the
horrible dwarf-beasts as I wish I only had the chance of destroying my
stepmother too. I wanted to kill them, for killing is the only proper way of
ridding oneself of bothersome beings.
Clever plans erupted in my
head once I'd decided to kill them, but I maintained my kindly, loving, genial
disposition whenever in their presence. My labors - sweeping, cleaning - kindly
deeds of a pure heart? Eh, no, only to deceive the dwarves into a false
confidence, so as to be the least of all suspects. The dwarven horrors danced
merrily and gay through the wood, and through the house when they arrived at
home, joyous at my company, for I was steadily growing more beautiful each day.
None suspected, not a one - none ventured to inquire at what their lovely
maiden thought of as they whisked off to the gold mines in the early morning
sun. None had the slightest doubt of my confidence, none had any resentment
toward their seemingly innocent resident, none saw past my impeccable facade.
Snow-white, a traitor? Never! Oh, it was too amusing. Only one of the seven
seemed wary of my excessive elation, the one called Grumpy. He was not a
devious fellow, and not at all as clever as he tried to appear, and always the
pessimist. He watched me with the distrustful eyes of a suspicious animal,
dogging my footsteps in what he obviously thought an inconspicuous way,
following me, spying incessantly at every turn, bend, wind! But I, oh, I was
more than aware. If I had had seven eyes, one for each dwarf, I could not have
been more aware! And the whole situation, and the irony of it for the
dwarves... let me tell you, dears… It was just too amusing.
Author's Note: This was Segment One… the others are being reposted ASAP.
Elle