A Writer's Journey

February 24, 2014

Blurb: “Fairest of Them All”

Filed under: journey,The Fairest of Them All,writing — mackenziew @ 12:00 am
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(I know I’ve been talking about “Dreams of a Rose” more than “Fairest of Them All.” But “Dreams of a Rose” has scenes that don’t really scream “Sleeping Beauty” yet. So I’m going to use a scene from the completed “Fairest of Them All” instead. I thought it would be a nice cap to Fairy Tale February).

I sat in a chair meant for someone half my size. Like the seven men gathered around me. None had come higher than my waist when I was standing. They were different ages from what I could tell. One was no older than eighteen, by my guess. His hair was blond and he had no beard, unlike the others. A gray cap was clutched in his hands as he watched me wit wide blue eyes, lurking by the windows. Another fellow stood by his side, one with dark hair and a dark beard. The yellow of his outfit caught my eyes.

Or whatever was still yellow. All of their clothing needed a good washing. Some of the men needed a washing as well. One with graying brown hair had splotches of dried mud on his face while another with gray hair streaked black had dirt encrusted in his nails. He hung behind the two staring me down, both of whom had gray hair.

The one who discovered me stood the closest, on his tiptoes to look in my eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, voice gruff. “Why did you clean the house?”

I decided not to answer the first question. Not until I decided if they were trustworthy or not. “Everything was a mess. I had to clean it.”

“We’re forgetting something, Grumpy.” The man next to him glared at me. “Why did she break in?”

Everyone stared at me, awaiting my answer. I crossed my arms. “I did not break in. I merely opened the door and walked in.”

The other five swiveled to face the youngest. He tried to back up but there was nowhere for him to go. So he closed his eyes and waited for the blow. “I know. It was my turn to lock the door and I thought I did. Sorry.”

His companions sighed loudly. The one in yellow gripped his shoulder. “Dopey, you need to be more careful. You understand?”

Dopey nodded, though he remained tense. But with that matter settled, my interrogation continued. “Why did you need to enter our house?”

I played with a piece of my tattered skirt. Were these men trustworthy? Or did they work for my stepmother? She was very powerful and very manipulative. After all, I didn’t expect the huntsman to almost kill me. His good nature prevailed at last but how long before my luck ran out? Before I met someone as cruel as she?

At last, the man with the graying black beard spoke. “Grumpy, Sneezy, enough! Can’t you see the poor thing is scared?”

The one closest to me—who I wagered was Grumpy—spun to face his friend. “Don’t be fooled by it. Most likely an act to earn our trust. We let her stay and in the morning, she’ll have robbed us blind!”

But his friend ignored him and stood before me. “Are you in trouble, my dear?”

I nodded in response. Calmed by his demeanor, I revealed a bit more. “It is too dangerous for me to return to my home. They believe me dead it must remain that way.”

Grumpy spoke up again. “So she does need money.”

“I don’t need money. What I need is a place to stay, a bed to sleep in and food to eat. Please, I know you don’t trust me. If my situation weren’t so dire, I wouldn’t trust you either. But I must.”

My impassioned plea concluded, the group huddled together in a far corner. Grumpy paused, pulling a seventh person from under a table. He had a gray beard streaked with red, matching the color of his tunic and his face. Dragged to the group, he remained quiet as they discussed my date.

I tried to hear what they were saying but heard only babble. Nothing made sense and I wondered if they had their own secret language. Finding myself biting my nails, I forced myself to stop. My old governess scolded me every time she saw me doing it.to prevent a relapse, I sat on my hands.

The group made a final decision and the nice one approached me. “We have decided, by majority vote, to let you stay.” He smiled, sticking out his hand. “I’m Doc.”

I shook his hand. “Snow White.”

princess model

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