𝗙𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧 . . . Disney Villains

maleficent

- mistress of evil -

The woods were dark. The branches were stiff, the creeks had stagnant waters. And they were quiet. Sections of heat parted through the cracks of the silk-like leaves. Illuminating a world untouched by sins.

Roots bursted out of soft soils, clasping pebbles and your front foot. You fell with a great thud, and heard the mighty bellow of the forest; laughing at such a pathetic demise.

Bright, frightened eyes scurried past figures whose tongues threw insults and wicked jests. Their feet padding on the ground as they ran closer, missing all those brown trails of bark the way you never did.

A coward. That you were.

It was painted on their creasing foreheads. Big bold letters that you wished to prove wrong, only to end up prolonging the torment. A coward whose cowardice is afraid of its own.

Their howling giggles filled the marsh. Each bubble of joy, each mocking lullaby, formed a crystal tear that softly hit the ground.

Children of the damned surrounded a fool. You, the one sprawled against moss and dirt. You, who wipes the blood from their chin. You, the damned child. Your skin lies peppered with cuts and tears, blacks and blues, gunk and grime.

"Pest!" He shouts.

"Weakling!" She shrieks.

"Dunce!" They sing.

Word per word, repeating like a broken record. The last barb had began from the milkmaid's mouth. She scolded you for nothing. Burdened you with tasks fit for grown men. And never gave you her heart. So did the children she came to care for.

The children who began to nit-pick your flesh with derogatory affirmations. They were orphans just like you, but they were less of a nuisance that you came to be. The milkmaid gathered them like gnomes, played them in strings, and painted you the wolf in a field of sheep so they had reasons to tear you apart. And it worked.

For these children destroyed what spirit you had left.

The same children who had now become silent.

Standing pin-straight. Mouth agape.

Their eyes never leaving the ones staring back at them. Behind thick foliage, past curled branches of burch and oak, perched a creature. With black horns and wings.

Her fingers wrapped around a glowing scepter. The back of her cloak perfectly draped against the bark. Such things could only belong to someone very familiar. They were significant in every way possible, and these children know it. She could feel them tremble under her gaze.

For a moment, you met her perception. Her glance lingered longer than the rest, holding no seethe and bite in them. She flicked her wrist and within seconds, the others were lifted up.

Flutter of hot air hit each cheek as the woman descended from her perch and landed with no thud, as gentle as a snowflake on a lake of ice.

Then she stepped forward. Amusement playing along the crease of her brows when you stumbled back. With each step the woman took, half of your will has been taken and left for dead. She took great pride in seeing you cower. How you ooze with nothing but fear has led her right in front of you.

She lifted a finger, only one; though you recoiled further into the patch of gravel and dirt. And the woman halts. Brows furrowing whilst gazing to the pack of children in the air then back at you.

". . .fascinating," the woman muttered. Her words rather bleak despite what it meant. Her tone held no particular enticement, it was more of, if not, provoked.