A Beauty That's Only Skin Deep

A re-telling of the fairy tale, Snow White.

I was blind to what my child was becoming until it was too late. The signs were always right in front of me. But I was blinded by my love for my daughter.

            Looking back, it seemed obvious what she was and who she would become. But who would ever suspect a pretty girl of doing anything wrong?

            And she was a very pretty girl. I would dote on her for hours, putting jewels around her neck, ribbons in her hair. I loved her hair the most; it was long, shiny brown and so smooth. I would always brush it as we sat by the fire every night.

            One night, as I was brushing her hair, she turned to me and said, “Mama,” in that sweet voice I loved so much, “You are so beautiful, Mama.”

            “Am I?” I said, only half listening, for I was so concentrated on how the silver brush moved through her chocolate hair.

            “Yes, truly!” she exclaimed. “You are the prettiest woman on Earth!”

            “My dear, don’t speak of nonsense.”

            “But you are, Mama.” She turned back to face the fire and leaned back against me, making it easier for me to brush her hair. “When I grow up, I want to be as pretty as you.”

            “You’ll be much prettier.”

            I continued brushing her hair in silence until she whispered, “You’re right. I will be the prettiest girl ever. With skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as night.”

            “Oh no, you can’t dye your hair!” I exclaimed. “Your hair is so lovely, just the way it is.”

            “No, brown is boring and dull. If I want to be pretty, it must be black.” All of a sudden, she didn’t sound like my sweet little girl.

            “Enough of this talk. You must not worry so much about what you look like. You will grow up to be a beautiful woman naturally.”

            “Yes, I will be the most beautiful woman alive. I will grow up and marry a prince. Or even a king!”

Sighing, I patted her head and told her, “Come now, dear. It’s time for bed.”

 

            My daughter grew up to, indeed, be a beautiful young woman. She had many servants and maids that doted on her day and night. However, she also grew to be a very proud and arrogant woman. She couldn’t stand any girl who she thought surpassed her in beauty. Because of it, she fired many maids. Over the years I noticed it was mostly young girls with white skin, or black hair, or red lips.

            I also noticed that her skin was getting paler, her lips redder. I always assumed she had ordered her maids to do her make-up this way, though, I have never found any make-up in her room.

            She also seemed to spend a lot of time in her room by herself, not letting anyone in, including myself. When I questioned her about it, she avoided answering. I realize now, I should have pressed harder.

            One night, I overheard her in her room. I stopped briefly to listen, and heard one of our new maids talking as well. It was odd behavior, since my daughter never had people in her room for conversation. Other maids would come and go, but she would never talk to them.

            I tried to decipher what she was saying, but couldn’t understand some of the words. When I heard someone moving toward the door, I backed away and hurried to around the corner.

            When I couldn’t hear her heels on the marble floor, I walked back toward my daughter’s room. The door was left open so I peered in to find a sight that still plagues my memory.

            The new maid lay dead on the floor, her hair withered to white and her skin wrinkled. She looked so old, but when I hired her, she wasn’t more than twenty. She lay in a white circle that was drawn on the floor, with candles burning around the room.

            I choked back a gasp, and backed out of the room. What had become of my sweet little girl? She was practicing witchcraft and stealing the youth and qualities of young maids and all I could think was, how could my daughter be capable of this? 

            I couldn’t let her get away with this. She was evil and had to be stopped. Her twentieth birthday was coming in a couple of days; she would have to be stopped before then.

            The next day, I saw my daughter at our morning tea and noticed her hair was now black. “My dear, what happened to your hair?” I gestured for her to sit down at the table with me.

            She sat and smiled, stroking her hair lovingly. “Isn’t it pretty mother? I’m almost as beautiful as I dreamed.” She smiled at me sweetly and I almost saw my sweet little girl in the smile. She took out the mirror I had bought for her when she was younger and admired her new beauty. She muttered to herself, “Mirror, Mirror,” almost lovingly, “Who is the fairest one of all?”

            “Have you seen the young maid I just hired?” I said, interrupting her self-admiration, “I have yet to see her today.” I glanced at her from over my teacup to see her reaction.

            She paused and gently set down the mirror and picked up her teacup. “I had her sent away. While she was dying my hair, she got some dye on my clothes, which ruined them. I never liked her that much anyway.” She sipped her tea with a cold frown on her face. The look chilled me and reminded me of the gruesome scene I had witnessed. 

            “I have a gift for you. Now, I know your birthday isn’t for a couple days, but I think you should have it now.” I smiled sweetly at my daughter, pushing the memories back.

            We went to her room and I presented her with a brand new bodice.

            My daughter’s face lit up and I again saw my little girl, which almost caused me to weep.

            “Mother, it’s so beautiful!” She ran forward to inspect the material and designs.

            “Not as beautiful as you, my dear.” I leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. “I will get a servant to come and lace you up.”

            I returned to my room and dressed myself in maid’s clothes I had snuck from the maid’s corridors. If the deed was going to be done, I didn’t want to do it as her mother. The world would think that a servant, who then disappeared, leaving a grieving mother, murdered the princess. They would be free from the evil her daughter would bring.

            I returned to my daughter’s room and rapped on the door. I heard her order me to enter. I came in and saw the bodice on her bed and froze. Was this the right thing to do?

            “Don’t just stand there and gawk. Hurry up and lace me up,” my daughter said from behind the changing screen. I realized that there was no going back and she had to be stopped.

            I picked up the bodice from the bed and moved behind the screen with my daughter. I arranged it and stood behind her with the laces in my hand, doing what any common maid would do. Gently, I laced up the bodice and pulled and pulled until the dress was far too tight even for her skinny body.

            “Watch what you are doing!” she protested. I ignored the order and pulled harder, causing her to yelp and scream at me until she finally ran out of breath. Her face turned red and purple, then blue. I gave one final tug and, still gasping for breath, she fell to the ground. It was done.

            I backed out of the room, and made for my own quarters to change. It was done; choked to death on its own beauty.

            A few moments later, I heard the shout from one of the maids as she discovered the princess on the floor. I moved toward the scene to find the servants and maids gathered around the room. I ordered them to move aside to let me pass, ready to play the grieving mother, to find my daughter sitting at her vanity, clutching a blanket around her.

            Composing myself, I moved toward my daughter and inquired to what the fuss was about. A servant told me that he had wandered by to find the princess unconscious on the floor. She wasn’t breathing, so in an effort to save her, he cut the bodice laces, and she began to breath.

            I restrained myself from lashing out at the fool and focused more on my daughter. “My darling, did you see who did this to you?”

            “A maid. She did not speak, nor did I see her face.”

            “Do not worry, all will be well. I will take care of this.” I leaned in and kissed her head like a loving and concerned mother, and ordered the maids to tend to my daughter.

            I locked myself in my chambers and paced back and forth. What could I do to stop her now?

            And that’s when the thought struck me. Poison. They would never be able to bring her back from that. But how could I do it? Food would be easiest.

            Apples.

            My daughter always loved apples. I gave her a fruit basket full of apples, every year on her birthday.

            I ran to the kitchen and the cook didn’t bat an eyelash when I asked him for the basket of apples that had been delivered earlier for my daughter’s birthday. He didn’t even ask when I asked him for several different herbs, although he surely knew what they were used for. He used them to get rid of pesky animals in the garden.

            I made a solution of the herbs and dipped the fruit in. When they were finished soaking, I took them out and they looked just as red and appetizing as ever. She wouldn’t be able to resist.

            The next day, my daughter’s birthday, I had dressed up again as the maid, grabbed the fruit basket and made my way to my daughter’s room.

            I rapped on the door, and heard my daughter bid me to enter. I silently entered her room, only to find her sitting in the dark at her vanity, shades still drawn.

            “Hello, mother,” she said darkly, looking at me through the mirror.

            I was so shocked; I almost dropped the basket of apples. Had I not disguised myself properly? How had she recognized me, when I never spoke nor had she ever seen my face? How could I kill her now?

            She shifted in her seat to face me. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? I would know you anywhere�"Mama.”

            I seated myself next to her, looked at her face and was surprised to see she was crying. For a moment, I saw my sweet little girl.

            “Why do you hate me, Mama?”

            I pulled her into a hug and whispered, “No, I don’t hate you.” She looked so innocent, curled up on my lap.

            “Yes you do. You tried to kill me.”

            There was nothing to say to this accusation. I just sat there and stroked her hair. “Why did you let me in, then?”

            “I saw you had my present. I wanted you to love me again. I wanted proof that you still loved me.” She hugged me tightly and cried some more. “Why did you try to kill me, Mama?”

            I sighed, holding back tears of my own. “You weren’t my daughter anymore. You were someone else; someone who killed people and performed forbidden magic.”

            She seemed surprised at my statement. “Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I? It made me beautiful, like I always wanted.”

             Her voice changed, and I realized she wasn’t sweet. She wasn’t innocent.

            She was a murderer. She was a killer. She was a dark witch.

            “Shh, my dear,” I said, stroking her hair. “You are beautiful.”

            She looked up at me and smiled. “Really?”

            “Of course. You are the fairest one of all.”

            She hugged me again and whispered, “I really do love you, Mama.”

            “I know, dear.” I reached into the basket and pulled out an apple. “Here, have one. They are your favorite.”

            She smiled at me and took a big bite, enjoying its sweet taste.

            “Happy birthday, my darling.”

            “Thank you, Mama,” she said as she finished the apple. “I’m going to go lie down. I still feel a bit off from yesterday.” Her eyelids began to get heavy as I helped her into bed.

            She was already asleep when I pulled the covers over her. “Sleep�"Sleep forever.”

            The next day, chaos ensued as maids found my daughter dead in her bed. I ordered her to be placed in the catacombs where our ancestors lay to rest. There was a period of mourning, and life moved on.

            A few years later, I looked back on my poor girl. She would be twenty-five by now. I was seated by the fireplace and heard the door open behind me. I turned to see who had entered and found a sight that left me speechless.

            There stood my daughter, dressed in royal clothes with a crown on her head.

            “Hello, mother.” She moved to stand in front of me and said, “I see you are surprised. You see, I anticipated your murder attempt and took an antidote I concocted. I awoke in the tombs and made my escape.”

            She sat herself in the seat next to me and added, “I am even engaged to a king, just like I always wanted.”

            It was then I realized the words had literally been stolen from my mouth. The tea I had been drinking was poisoned. My daughter saw my realization of her actions and explained, “Yes, mother. Using the same herbs you used to try and kill me. Only I added a little more of my own to make sure you have a long and painful death.” With that, she rose, kissed my forehead as I used to do to her, and walked toward the door.

            “I really did love you, mother. Your beauty was the only one that surpassed my own.” And she left.

            A couple painful days went by. I hear from the maids and servants that a king in a nearby kingdom remarried and the queen looks like the lost princess. I also hear she has a step-daughter, who has snow white skin, rose red lips, and hair as black as night. They say when she grows up she will be the fairest woman of all. I pray for the safety of this girl.

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think :) This was my prized story in my creative writing class <3 But I want to hear what others think. Please tell me of any grammatical errors as well.

Reviews

[PWells]

What a brilliant idea and a very fine piece of writing! Will go into my favs....

[Daydreamer0626]

Thank you so much! Glad you enjoyed it :)

[MusicManiac]

Hello there!

This definitely took a different spin--not your traditional fairy tale! The ideas of vanity and beauty always appeal to me, so I really did enjoy the story line. What makes it all the more interesting is that you used the relationship of a mother and daughter when telling this story--a relationship that is typically characterized with unconditional love. A very intriguing twist to a well known story, nice job!

If I may make one suggestion, there are some sentences that seem like they would fit really well if combined with the next one. They're not fragments, but the flow might be a little smoother!

Thank you for sharing this, I enjoyed reading it!

~MusicManiac

[Daydreamer0626]

Thank you so much for looking at it! :) I really appreciate it, especially since, like I said, that piece is like my child and I'm very proud of it :) I will definitely look it over to combine some of those sentences.

[MusicManiac]

You're welcome! And you have every reason to be proud of it--it's a very well written story :)

[A. Amos]

I really like the flow and your story telling in this chill-out tale, simply spectacular!

[Daydreamer0626]

Thank you very much! :)

[A. Amos]

You're most welcome...

[Rochell Kurwitz]

Wow that's all I have to say I didn't realize that she was the evil queen from Snow White until the end even with the mirror mirror reference. That was a brilliant way to tell the story. I would have liked some more imagery and descriptions but that is really my only negative at the beginning I was appalled and then once I realized that it was a fair tale kind of story I just couldn't believe how amazing it was. Except maybe that I couldn't really picture the characters or the scene in my head but other than that great job!

[Daydreamer0626]

Yes descriptive writing isn't one of my strong suits but I will definitely try to put more imagery in :) thank you for looking it over and reviewing!!