The Queen threw back her head and laughed madly. Then she set out to follow the path.
She was soon rewarded for her efforts. The Queen stood behind a tree and watched the little house. The door opened and the little men the Slave had spoken of set off for their daily work in the mines.
And then, she saw her—Snow White!
The girl had came to the door and saw each of the men off. The Queen was disgusted and filled with venom and hatred. Onyx hair, lips like rubies, skin like snow, heart of gold…bah! The Queen knew better. Snow White was a selfish wench who cared nothing for her father’s memory and was plotting to surpass her mother in the only thing the woman had left in this world—her beauty.
The Queen watched as the men left the house. The sun was streaming through the canopy of bird-filled tree branches. Snow White proceeded to the garden, where she fed bread crumbs to bluebirds. The Queen peeked from behind the tree where she was hiding; her clawlike fingers wrapped around a low branch and made a sickening scratching sound as she dug her nails into the bark of the tree, wishing it were Snow White’s flesh. “Hasn’t changed one little bit,” she whispered to herself in her new raspy voice.
She waited for Snow to go inside before she approached the cottage. She saw her in the open window, happily at work making pies.
The Queen quickly and suddenly thrust her head into the open window.
“All alone, my pet?” she asked.
Snow looked up from her work, clearly spooked by the sudden appearance of an old woman before her.
“Why, yes, I am, but—” the sweet girl answered.
“The little men are not here?” the Queen asked.
“No, they’re not,” Snow replied.
The Queen leaned forward and sniffed around the cottage.
“Making pies?” she asked.
“Yes, gooseberry pies.”
Sweet.
Sickening.
Time to die.
“It’s apple pies that makes the menfolk’s mouths water,” the Queen said. “Pies made from apples like this!”
She pulled the brilliant red apple from her basket and showed it to Snow White. The girl was hesitant, but the Queen used every persuasive bone in her frail old body to convince her to take a bite. Snow White looked enraptured by the apple, and she reached out to take it and pull it close to her lips.
Then suddenly, the Queen found herself attacked by what felt like a hoard of bats. But they couldn’t be bats—it was midmorning. She felt the creatures pecking at her and swatting her with their wings, talons tearing at her skin, and vicious beaks reaching hungrily for her eyes. She was lashed by feathers.
Birds!
She was being attacked by flocks of them. She raised her arms to block them and dropped the apple.
Snow White quickly came to her rescue, emerging from the cottage and chasing the birds away. The Queen quickly grabbed for the apple and checked it to assure that it wasn’t damaged in any way. Snow White came to her side and apologized, and the Queen seized the opportunity to be invited into the cottage by complaining of a weak heart and expressing the need to sit down.
Snow went over to the far side of the cottage to fetch the Queen some water, and as she did so, the Queen pulled out the apple and formulated her plan. Then something unexpected…She couldn’t do this to her little bird. Her heart ached.
Weakness.
Shove it away!
She buried the impulse deep within herself along with her grief, and focused on the matter at hand.
“And because you’ve been so good to poor old Granny, I’ll share a secret with you. This is no ordinary apple. It’s a magic wishing apple,” the Queen said.
“A wishing apple?” Snow White asked.
The Queen got up from her seat and started moving toward Snow White with the apple extended before her.
“Yes! One bite and all your dreams will come true.”
“Really?”
The Queen moved in closer.
“Yes. Now make a wish and take a bite….”
Snow looked apprehensive, and began to back away as the Queen advanced toward her with the apple extended.
“There must be something your little heart desires. Perhaps there’s someone you love?” the Queen asked.
“Well, there is someone…” Snow replied.
“Ah! I thought so, I thought so,” the Queen said, laughing. “Old Granny knows a young girl’s heart. Now, take the apple, dearie, and make a wish.”
The Queen thrust the apple into Snow White’s hands. She smiled and nodded in encouragement as she watched the girl consider the apple.
Then the girl wished. She wished for all the things the Queen once had—for love, for a handsome prince to ride in on horseback and carry her away to his castle to make her his wife. But she also wished for something the Queen knew she herself could never have, and that was to live happily ever after.
The Queen watched, wringing her hands in anticipation.
“Quick! Don’t let the wish grow cold!” she said.
And with that, Snow White sunk her teeth into the most beautiful, ripest apple she had ever seen.
“Oh, I feel strange,” she said.
The Queen watched in anticipation as the effects of the poison set in. Snow wavered to and fro. The Queen rubbed her hands together and rocked back and forth…waiting. Waiting until she would again be fairest of all. And then, finally, Snow White fell to the ground. The bitten apple rolled from her hand, and the wicked Wicked Queen burst into maniacal laughter that could be heard throughout the kingdom. As if in response, a loud thunderclap resounded from above, and the sky opened up with a shower of pouring rain.
Snow White lay at the Queen’s feet as the old woman cackled. She thought she would be elated. Energized. Filled with joy. But instead, she felt weak. The long journey had taxed her. If only she wasn’t stuck in this wretched old body! It would take her ages to get back to the castle. She wanted nothing more than to ask the mirror who was now fairest of all.
She hadn’t bothered to see what she needed to reverse the Peddler’s Disguise potion. Surely the sisters had something tucked away in that old trunk they left.
“Apologies, my Queen.” It was one of the sisters’ voices, though the woman was nowhere to be seen.
“There is no antidote,” another voice echoed, followed by the sisters’ odd chattering laughter.
Panic.
“No antidote! No way to reverse it? Impossible. There has to be a way!” She mentally flipped through the pages of the old book, her heart pounding, hands shaking; she had to sit down again, her heart was that of an old woman.
“Calm yourself,” she said.
Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “All for nothing!” She felt numb. She couldn’t face her father’s reflection in the mirror like this. Old, ugly, worthless. And then she found herself doing the only thing she could. The Queen broke into hysterical laughter. Her life, this day—it had all been so ridiculous. How had she come to this point? She could not control her laughter and she cackled loudly as she stepped out of the door into the rain. Perhaps it would cleanse her. Renew her. Give her some perspective.
She had hated her father and then become just like him. Heartless. Wicked. Cruel. She made a ruin of her life for nothing. She would never be the fairest, not like this. Nothing! She had killed her little bird for nothing. Her head was splitting with pain, she was thrown, taken aback by her guilt, her regret. But what did she regret most, the ruin of Snow’s life or her own?