Snow White Collection

A Story by Emma Griffiths

Noone ever encounters heartbreak in fairytales, only happily ever afters. What if there was no happily ever after? What if your princess never made it to the end alive? - Februrary 11, 2009

The poison apple rolled slowing from her cold limp hands. Faint memories ran quickly through her head, fading with her consciousness as it escaped her. Slipping into the dark abyss, like the apple from her hand, everything just faded away.
The apple traced a path in the perfect blanket of snow that surrounded her body. The beautiful icy crystals fell from the sky, each unique flake falling ever so softly to earth. Covering her still body, gradually encasing her body as a remanent of time.

Single droplets of blood stained the sure white sheet of freshly fallen snow. No footprints dare mark the remarkable beauty, and yet something more precious had been spilt upon it. The crimson began to seep as the warm liquid melted away the top layer of snow. Mere metres away, huddles beneath a single oak amongst the pines, lay the creature, struggling to survive. Lips blue, icicles lace her emerald eyes, blood drips from her fingertips as the poisonous apple burns her hands.

Her damp hair clung to her pale features as the cold-water droplets ran down from the strands. Shivering, her wet clothes stuck to her body as a harsh wind blew through the trees. The pain had stopped. It was now a dull throbbing. Slow throbbing. Getting slower. Weaker. The snow began to darken to a blue as it inched towards twilight. Now matching the colour of her dress and lips. Twilight blue stained with red. Everything began to fade and blur together as the throbbing slowed to a stop.

The crisp clear morning broke as he knelt beside her body. He tried to refrain from touching her, but ti broke his heart. So soft, so fragile, so cold. Just like his life now felt, as it shattered in the cold sparkling light of early morn. Her perfect lips, now bought to a thin line, never to strain a smile again. Never to light up his world which now lay ice cold on the forest floor. Lifting his beloved from the roots of the oak, he carried her, despite having an able bodied steed that first accompanied him. Back to there home, their warm cottage, to cherish his last moments with her in his arms.

In her glass, wrapped in icy vines, she looked stunning. Dressed in a simple elegance of white, she glimmered as the sun shone down upon the pair. His hand holding hers, the sun caught each tear as they fell, sparkling bastardly for mere seconds. Cold irony. Morbid mockery. As the lowest form of humour imaginable, it enraged him. The world continued merrily, the Queen enjoying her throne, if you will, as his kingdom crumbled. He dropped his eyes to her perfect features. The love of his life, his happily ever after, gone, along with his will to continue. Kneeling beside her, he placed a soft kiss upon her lips, a wish of love and happiness on her journey. All the while, breaking his heart with her departure.