Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she was brushing her long black curls. Oh--and humming. She was humming so loudly, and so badly I might add, that even the pretty little songbirds outside her window stopped midway through their carefree melodies to listen. So badly, that members of the family of mice that lived underneath the floorboards were cringing together in complete horror. So badly, that the mirror on the wall was crying in pain and agony for her to stop. Yes, I did say the mirror. The Mirror. The mirror of all mirrors. The lady was none other than Snow White, and the mirror, was, well, her mirror.
The woman paused for a moment. “Oh, hush,” she said to the wailing object with a dainty grin. You may find this hard to believe, but “it,” or “he” actually frowned at her! Imagine that! Everyone seemed to sigh and relax along with him at her silence, but after of sigh of her own, she started humming again. This time it was louder, and though it seemed impossible to everyone in the room, it was even worse.
“Stop! Please! I beg of you!” shouted a man as he burst into the bedroom. Now, I might take a minute to explain that the bedroom was no ordinary bedroom. It was a bedroom fit for a princess, and a princess Snow White definitely was. There were silky sheets on the monstrous bed; expensive furnishings imported from faraway lands sprawled about the room; priceless tapestries upon the walls; and dazzling chandeliers gracing the ceilings. No one could deny the fact that the Snow White was living the good life, but was she truly happy? Did all this help her meet the requirements for a “cheery life”? Or was her life not so cheery after all? These were questions her close friends and her subjects asked to themselves every day. Well, maybe not every day, but it sure was debated about by all the gossip columnists and entertainment magazines.
“Your horrendous singing has driven me mad! Are you aware that your voice sounds no better than that of a dying hog?” The man’s voice was harsh, evil, and controlling. Then again, it was also satisfyingly British. He was her prince, he was the prince, and he was everyone’s worst nightmare.
Snow White blushed at his outburst, if only for a moment. “Now, Darling, remember what we talked about with the marriage counselor. No more shouting. Calm, quiet, relaxed voices.” Her voice trailed off into yet more humming as she gathered up her skirts and twirled delightedly across the room.
“Stop! It! Now!” Prince Darling White picked up a newspaper and hurled it across the room, where it hit a lamp with a smack and a crack. He stomped furiously out the two thirty foot glass doors while fumes blew out his ears and nose.
Snow White was slightly stunned, but the moment she noticed her priceless lamp had been broken, she collapsed on the Persian rug and wept. It was touching. Really touching. But five minutes later she realized she’d forgotten what the trouble was, and got back up to finish brushing her black locks.
Deep in the night, as the princess was tossing and turning in bed, a misty dream began to stir trouble in her peaceful mind. It was foreboding and foreshadowing. A man, strong, sturdy, but sinister, sat on a horse. It was dark. She did not recognize him at all. As his horse whinnied and thrashed about, the man laughed. His menacing cackle was loud and clear, and his mouth frothed as his dark eyes grew narrower and a ferocious scowl crept its way across his scarred face.
