Spoiler
I decided to do a twist on a classic tale and chose my favorite princess, Snow white. No plagrisim intended
Preface:
My mother died when I was a baby, so I never knew her. My Father, a dignitary, travelled across the lands, so I never saw much of him. My step mother, a witch my Father had married on one of his journeys was the only family I had ever known. She kept me locked up in my Father’s castle when he wasn’t home, only letting me venture out at night. During the day she kept me busy, with chores and with lessons my tutor set me. She said all young women were kept away until coming of age, sixteen. I am now seventeen. When I asked her if I may go to the ball I heard my ladies maid talking about when she was dressing me, my mother said I was young for my age and not to go out until I matured. I hadn’t heard from my father in several months, my mother claimed he was on a sea voyage. My mother was steadily becoming more engrossed with her ‘work’ and would lock herself in her room for days at a time. She never let anyone come into her room, except the butler who brought her meals.
Chapter I:
I stepped out of the castle, my bare feet warmed by the hot stone, which had been lying in the sun all day. My tutor followed behind me, carrying his scrolls and tripping over his long ‘teaching’ robe, which my mother insisted he wear when teaching me. I settled myself down on the stone bench in the orchard, looking up at the beautiful cherry blossoms that fell periodically to the green ground.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, looking around at the flowers, my nose feeling with the scent of the sweet buds.
“Yes, well,” my tutor said, sparing the flowers a glance. “As I was saying, Italy was originally part of the Roman--”
I blocked him out, as I often do when he begins rambling. Once he began teaching a lesson, I could leave, talk, sing, anything and he would not notice. I stood, brushing the petals from my lap, and walking to the edge of the grove, looking out at the valley below. My Father’s castle was sat on a grassy hill, covered with gardens and orchards. At the foot of the mountain (where we were now,) was the cherry blossom coppice, below it was a valley, full of wild flowers and willow trees, where I would sit after dark, in the branches, reading by the light of a candle. I hated being cooped up in the castle during the day. Today my Mother had given me a rare treat, permission to venture out of the castle during the day. It had been so long since I had seen the orchard in the day time.
Often, when I was little before my Father married my step-mother, my governesses would take me out to the plantation and we would sit, among the trees, singing the songs we made up.
“Snow,” My tutor’s high voice rang through the trees between us.
“Yes?” I answered, walking back towards him, my skirt rustling through the tall soft grass.
“What were you doing?”
I blushed, realizing the lesson must have stopped and he had looked up to find me gone.
“I- well,” I faltered, my heart beating wildly.
My last tutor would slap my hands when I wandered off, or failed to finish a lesson, or didn’t listen when he was talking. This was the first time my current tutor had caught me.
He waved his hand, waving off my stutters. “Never mind, never mind. It’s time for dinner anyway. We’ll go over the lesson after lunch.”
I followed him up to the castle opening the large oak door and walking into the entrance hall. Once upon a time, this hall had been sunny and bright, with banners of gold hanging from the walls. Now it was dark, with the pillars painted black, and the large windows covered with silver and black stripped silk curtains. I shivered, I hated this room. No, I hated the entire house. Except my room. When my step-mother had moved in, she completely re-did the whole palace. Black marble in the kitchen, black paint on all the previously sunny walls. She had tried to paint my white-washed, simple, room with midnight blue walls. My father, before leaving for a trip had put his foot down. He told her she mustn’t touch my room. Usually she ignored what my Father says and does what she wants anyway, but this time she listened. I’m not sure why. She hadn’t entered my bedroom since that day.
My tutor and I requested lunch in my room, sitting in the small alcove patio where we usually did our lessons. He explained the basis of the Roman Empire lesson while we awaited the food.
“You see…” I ignored him. I had had this lesson before, and knew it backwards and forwards. I could afford not to listen. My mind wandered, thinking about my birth mother. I dream about her a lot, because what else can I do? I’ll never see her. So dreaming is fine.
This dream began like any other, with my mother cradling me as a baby. She’s singing a song about birds coming back home in the spring, and the little squirrels in the fall. She then began singing a song about the cherry blossoms falling like rain in the orchard. Then she lay me in my cradle, kissed my forehead, then disappeared in a puff of gold smoke.
Tears pricked my eyelids, just as they always do. I dream about my mother and just when it gets to the best part, she disappears. As though some unknown force comes and takes her away from me. But that isn’t possible. Is it?
