What ever happened to Snow White, fairest of them all? Did she ever go to a high class ball? They say she lived with seven men, not even five foot tall. Rumor has it, she was a whore. She waited on those men, beck and call. Did they ever appreciate her, at all?
That Prince, after they kissed, he hasn’t been heard of since. The love they made, lead her to wince. She washed his clothes, they were covered in lint. He tossed her a coin, made at a mint.
She wasn’t a prostitute, she threw him back his suit, and she ordered him out, along with his boots. She said she was thrown to the ground, bashed around; the Prince still has the crown. Why did she let him fool the town? She was so angered, hurt, she only frowned.
The wicked Step-Mother made the Prince her lover; they never really knew one another. The mirror was envious of the adulterous Prince, he smashed the mirror, he believed it be best.
The Huntsman still worked in town, soon his evil plot would be found. He went to hunt down Snow White, she was full of tears, full of freight, and he never thought she would put up a fight.
She lived alone in a cave. No seven men, she was a lone hen. He whispered in her ear, “I have dug you a grave.”
He grabbed her, she screamed to be saved. Knife in hand, he tore her dress, stripped her bare. She saw dark figures in the haze. Oh Lord she was scared. He sliced her black hair, hit her, slit her, and threw dirt into her eyes. How was she to know of this demise?
“Please No.” His pants were down; she could make out the Princes’ crown. HELP! “Oh we’ll help ourselves.” Said a low tone, muffled voice. Seven little men, a Huntsman, the Prince. Snow white knew her days were done. Step-Mother confirmed it all.
Every man had his way with her. They have always been such perverts. Everything hurt, just a bundle of nerves. Her cries were never heard. She was naked, as naked as the day she was born. Her dress so ripped, so torn. Pricked with a red roses thorns. Broken and all worn.
They laughed at her pain, the colour from her face, tears dripping down like a sink and drain. Blood stains from her veins, down poured the rain. Oh the disgusting things, they tortured her.
The Step-Mother said “Enough.” Oh she was in a puff. Snow White looked up, tearful, choking on her sorrow. They had a sack lying in a wheel barrow. Step-Mother blind folded her Step-Daughter, leading her to the grave, like a lamb to the slaughter. “Please let me live, this stays between us all!” Snow White begged. The Prince handed the Huntsman a sword. Long, silver, shiny. Those seven men watched on, so plump and tiny.
The Huntsman swung the sword back, then straight through and around. Her head, it tumbled to the ground. They cheered, she was dead, food for those worms to be fed. They laid the corpse in its new bed. Step-Mother grasped the head by the hair that was left. The sack was emptied into the dirt bed. It was the poisoned apple, an axe and what was Sir Mirror.
She rose the head and kissed the dead, red lips, breathed in the stench of death. Huntsman covered in blood, as everyone else, threw in the sword and inherited his new found wealth.
What was Miss. White’s head, was tossed into the bed. “Yes, finally, she is dead.” Her lover Prince said. Dirt, buried, she was gone. The seven little men started to sing a happy song. The Step-Mother, evil Queen, so happy and keen “Ha-ha! Now who is the fairest of them all?” She cried in victory. “It was always you, you will go down in history!” Cheered those men. Her death and disappearance is still a mystery.
