The Red Winter (A Snow White Story)

Death be cold, death be quick, death be
instantaneous. Life is lost and loss is
life and I, the fair damsel, future
princess of this rich loved land am left
motherless. Loneliness becomes me, as
father finds love again in the arms of
another. Those arms that first felt warm
are as cold as the icy wind they came in
on. Barren damnation lurks within the
cold eyes of the future queen, who dares
to rule in a stead that never did belong to
her. I think vile thoughts about this vile
beast who steals the heart of my father
with the sharpened tip of her sword, an
action of such brutal brutality that only
Lucifer himself could applaud. I escape
the clutches of this sadist, I am lost in a
strange land. Exotic; alien; unknowable;
I am frightened and alone. This is not my
warm bed; this is not my humble abode;
this is no longer my fairytale never more.
My heart be but broken and the queen
wishes to break it more. My beauty; my
intellect; my passion; it rivals all that she
is evil; her rooted sin unable to take hold
in the Garden of Eden that is mine. She
consults her mirror; her cold mirror of
fallen souls, which dictates to her the
actions that must be taken, to ensure that
I be forsaken. A hunter, lone and cunning,
is called upon to serve. On bended knee he
pleads before her, to be released of the
burden that she commands. But she be but
so wicked in her words that she threatens
him to his core, and not even a warm heart
like mine could dare live against her malice
cruelty. He comes through the forest; I hear
him wandering like a giant, cutting through
the trees. The foliage falls beneath his feet as
he comes to grab my life from me. But my
fair beauty is beyond reason and it captures
him without a doubt. He stumbles upon his
axe, unable to sustain his feelings as he
gazes upon the ravishing impressions that I
was given at birth. Like a seductress, I
have him round my finger, my rosy lips
he longs to pluck; but that is not want I
want from him, for he will help me make
the fate of this world unstuck. He returns
to the hag that hatched his orders and says
that I be dead and with these words the
queen drops her guard; for I be but very
much alive. The lies he tells in my
defence however are soon revealed as the
slanderous masquerade that they are by
the terrible mirror, that shan’t remain
blinded for long. Ravaged by her hatred
to see me struck down dead, the furious
queen, betrayed by her own instruments,
devises a plan of sweet ecstasy. The bitter
dread of her frozen foul heart is poured
into an apple seed, that upon taking root
within the soil births a delicious death. As
I unknowingly take into me the crisp flesh
of the forbidden fruit, the moistness of its
texture hides its killer plan. Like the steel of
her sword, I am crushed beneath this legacy
stolen from me by a woman who sits upon
a throne of deceit; this perilous pile of blood
and gore that the wretched witch has
institutionalised to see me fall from grace.
Like the tree the evil was birthed from, I
am fallen and I ought never to return, for
I know all too well that death is death and
there be no cure to stifle this tragedy. Like
falling into a dream, one of utmost pitch,
I notice nothing of my old existence with
the strength to awaken me. Death may
have stolen my reflection, but the queen
has revealed, unbeknownst to her it would
seem, her Achilles heel. What hubris on her
part to believe that fruit could dare deflower
the petals of my perfect person and like a
bird free from its cage I unexplainably rise
again. My rebirth may be but something I
ought to ponder, however, I’ve a country
that needs my spirit and my aggressive
vengeance is the power this land needs
to be revived. The queen may have her
harlot parlour tricks and her seethed
sword, but in contrast the land has me
and I am all she shall ever need to blossom.
I march with all my fury and charge into the
grounds I once called my own and humbly
take the head of heresy that dared to rule
in stead. Her mirror is but broken with the
touch of my hand, for purity is the strongest
device against wickedness and the last thing
the bastard mirror felt was the unconditional
love of this virgin’s still beating heart. As for
the malice queen, well, we shall not speak
of her again, for upon setting her rancid flesh
upon me, I triumphantly cut her down to size.
Her death signals the end of tyranny and it is
now that my reign shall begin; all shall fall
before my love and never be but broken again.
The moral of this story? That in itself is hard
to tell, but I am certain you know of the
resolved conflict and the conclusion because
you too have fallen under my spell. My
passion shall embrace you and none in
my blood line shall escape such birthright
and from now until time no longer ticks,
everyone will know the story of I, Snow White. 

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About totalovrdose

I am an online journalist, video game reviewer, mental health advocate and post graduate university student. I am a massive video gaming geek; a lover of intellectual conversations; an award winning procrastinator; a devilishly charming nuisance and the definition of 'fun' (sometimes). My blog is filled with many a soporific love poem, and is simply the beginning in my quest to become a published author. Please stop by and say 'Hi!' (that rhymes!) :D

Posted on June 20, 2013, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Thanks for visiting my blog. I just loved that!

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