Seduire Apple a

Fractured fairytale giving a modern, darker twist on the beloved "Snow White"

For as long as anyone can remember, there has been magick in these swamps--old women casting spells for anyone willing to pay, dashing young men promising love and wealth to those willing to make a deal with them. I have watched the cycle for many a year, and yet they do not learn. I will tell you a story about what happens when you use magick for personal gain. But remember my dears, all magick comes with a price, and some people are not willing to pay that price.

Not too long ago, a new woman had moved into my city. She was the possessor of unearthly beauty. Her hair was of black silk and her skin of the finest porcelain. She had lips like ripe strawberries and eyes as blue as the water of the Gulf. Her name was beautiful as well, and she was called Isabelle. She came from a long line of powerful French settlers near Thibodaux. Merchants and seamstresses to the good Christian folk, but to the people who weren’t afraid to partake in shady dealings, they were a great asset. Now, their natural gifts had been weakened through the generations by marrying English settlers, but Isabelle was special. She had the power to see the future of others by holding their hands.

Her mama had died while Isabelle was young, and her grief stricken father was wont to look for a new matriarch. He remarried when Isabelle was seventeen, and she was cast out of the house upon her stepmother learning of her ability. Isabelle struggled to come into her gift, thus ending up on the streets of New Orleans. There, she found seven brothers who were willing to rent her a room in their house in exchange for her cooking them dinner.

About a month after she found herself in New Orleans, Isabelle had set up a shop on Bourbon Street. It was a small, two-story brick building of local masonry. Once you stepped into Isabelle’s shop, you could feel her power. Isabelle wasn’t showy with her gift, though the cozy space was tastefully decorated with local crafts. Her table was the centerpiece of the room, and it was where she conducted her readings. Isabelle would welcome you into her shop with a warm, genuine smile, and lead you to the table. After serving some tea, she would grasp your hands gently and tell you what she saw.

Word soon got out about the young, beautiful psychic. Her business was thriving from both the tourists and the locals. Isabelle was a kind, fair businesswoman, and she was adored by all of her clients.

Though, not everyone in my city was thrilled about Isabelle’s gift. There was a powerful Voodoo Queen by the name of Madam Toussaint. She was accustomed to being the one that people consulted, as well as the most beautiful.

After losing business for the third month straight, Madam Toussaint came to visit me at the old Saint Louis Cemetery. I watched from the shadows as she made three crosses on my crypt with the famous red brick.

“Please, help me with my business,” she whispered. As she was a Queen, as I myself once was, I was inclined to help her. Her chocolate eyes ignited as I made myself visible to her.

“Madam Josephine Toussaint,” I said, “why do you seek my aid?”

“Madam Marie Laveau, my business is failing, and I demand to know what the cause is,” she replied with a manner not unlike that of a spoiled child.

“Dearest Josephine, there is another in my city. She tells fortunes honestly, and people are attracted by her beauty.”

“Another? Another what?” Madam Toussaint asked frantically.

“A psychic, with the gift of touch.”

“She must be brought to her end!”

“Isabelle has done no wrong, Josephine. I will not aid you in this venture.” With that, I made myself invisible to her once again and left the cemetery. I went to Isabelle’s shop on Bourbon Street and began to keep vigil over her.

The next day, another psychic had come to Isabelle’s place of business.

“Excuse me, miss?” he said, “Is your name Isabelle?”

“Yes, I am. And you are?”

“Omére Foret, Miss Isabelle. I must speak to you at once.”

Omére had taken a seat at Isabelle’s table and he smiled up at her with emerald eyes when she brought over her tea tray. Isabelle blushed when her gaze caught his. She hastily looked down and poured the tea,

“So, Mr. Foret, what brings you to my shop today?” she said, sipping her tea.

“Word is you are a psychic, and a good one at that.”

“Yes, I have a gift. Have you come here for a reading?”

“No, miss, I have not. I came to warn you about the wrath of Madam Toussaint.”

“Who is Madam Toussaint?” Isabelle asked, a look of shock on her face.

“She is a powerful Voodoo Queen, She is jealous of your gift, as well as your beauty. I was actually sent here to kill you, but I can see you are innocent.” With this, Omére looked ashamed of what he had just told her.

“What can I do to protect myself from her?” Isabelle asked with a whisper of a breath.

“Give me a lock of your hair, so that I may trick her into believing you are dead,” Omére said as he handed her his knife. She cut off one of her curls and bound it together with a piece of red cord. He took the lock of hair at the doorway and gave her a kiss before he left.

Isabelle then packed a few of her belongings and fled to the swaps. There she hid in the house she shared with the seven brothers. They told her not to leave her cottage while they were gone, and to open the door for noone. Isabelle did as they said for her own safety.

One day a few weeks later, I was summoned again by Madam Toussaint. Again, she made the crosses on my tomb and called for me. Although I did not want to, I made myself visible once again.

“Madam Marie Laveau, I am once again the most beautiful and most powerful in the bayou. Why am I still without business?”

“Because Isabelle is alive and well. The only thing you have that can be used against her is what your nephew Omére gave you.” With that, I disappeared once more.

The next day, I caught word from the Loa that Madam Toussaint had made a charm in the form of an apple to be given to Isabelle. Through the swamps I flew, but I was too late. As I entered through an open window of the house, Isabelle was taking a bite from the charmed apple. I watched in horror as she fell to the floor in a deep slumber, and her aura left her. I followed her essence to Madam Toussaint, who bottled it for later use.

I had no way in which to summon Madam Toussaint, but alas, her nephew was summoning me. I fled back to the Saint Louis Cemetery just as he was making his request.

“Please, Madame Laveau, bring me to my love Isabelle,” Omére whispered. My heart broke for the boy, and I had found my way to bring back Isabelle and defeat Madame Toussaint.

“Omére, there is but one way to bring her back, and that is with a kiss from you. Hurry, my boy, so that she can be spared from use in a potion.”

I stayed with Omére to guide him to the house in the swamp. When we arrived, the seven brothers had laid her on an oak table in the parlor.

“You are too late,” said the eldest.

“At least let me say goodbye,” Omére said and kissed Isabelle softly on her strawberry lips. With a gasp, her aura returned to her and she sat up. Her ocean blue eyes looked up to Omére, and without hesitation, he asked her to marry him.

I went back to the residence of Madame Toussaint, and she had crossed into the realm of the damned. All of her magick was reversed, and the city was restored to the vibrant energy in which I left it.

The next week, I watched from the trees as Isabelle and Omére were wed. Isabelle went on to rule the swamps much as I had, and she rules to this very day.

Author's Note

The word "magick" here refers to the religious meaning of the word, commonly associated with Wicca, rather than "magic" in reference to an illusion