We all know how the tales go. But what if some stories slipped right by you?
Quasimodo and Snow White, individuals on opposite ends of the scale. Snows life dominated by her weak, crumbling father and scheming, devious stepmother. A life in a villa...
A few remaining people were out and around Paris but they themselves felt the sudden urge to take off home as Phoebus and his men appeared.
Calmly and steadily they approached on horse back into Norte Dame square. Night had crept in to the square with them as the dark has descended around them. A very fraught and apprehensive Captain Phoebus clicked his fingers for his men to proceed forwards.
"Take caution! The girl may be somewhere around here so keep your whits about you!...Frollos orders!" Phoebus half whispered his instructions with seriousness.
His men nodded in agreement then jumping down from their horses, they drew their swords and began to scale around Norte Dame. It was left up to Phoebus to scope out the inside.
The tall, disembodied presence of the cathedral worked its way into Phoebus's conscience as he left his horse then as the silence grew around him, he remained the only one in the square. Echoes of the small wind that rustled through his hair, bounced off the walls, rushed up the steps and hit the heavy, obstructing doors of Norte Dame. Slowly Phoebus stepped until he reached the door handle before hesitantly pushing it open.
Cold, haunting silence greeted him. Phoebus lightly pushed the wooden door further until it opened wider with louder creeks each time it did. Stepping further and further inside, the captains head burst with uncertainty.
He stepped lightly as his eyes grew accustomed to the vastness of this place. Ceilings that rose high until you could no longer see, carvings and paintings on the walls depicting the Virgin Mary herself along with Jesus their lord and quiet air that lifted you out of Paris and into a new world. Surely this sanctity and holiness of such a building would be allowed to be occupied by people from all walks of life! Including the gypsies and a poor young girl who has lost her way?!!
All was quiet and still; the flicker of the candle and Phoebus himself were the only things to move. Soon he decided to interpret the quiet.
"Hello?" He half shouted half whispered.
No answer but Phoebus could sense a presence nearby. He swore he could hear a faint tapping, almost inaudible but with each step it got a little louder.
Now certain that there was someone hear, Phoebus drew his sword noiselessly before pointing it toward the sound. It was the bell tower steps...someone was coming down the steps. Retreating a little against the wall, Phoebus lay in wait. And then suddenly, a figure emerged from the darken swell of the stairs, a petite young girl covered head to toe in paint of all colours. She walked delicately as her brown boots hardly made a noise on the stone steps. Unaware of Phoebus who watched her with awe, when she did swiftly raise her head she stopped dead in her tracks and froze on the stairs.
"No please...please don't hurt me!" Snow squealed, crouching down onto the step curling into a ball while covering her face with her hand.
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
