Not the Villain - The Evil Queen's Retelling of Snow White

19 Years, Three Months and 30 Days Ago

19 years, three months and 30 days ago:

Rumours.

Rumours saying that the King is getting older. Rumours that he needs a heir.

Rumours saying that he is "falling out of love". (Rumours that I may or may not have started).

Rumours saying that if Queen Evelyn does not give birth to a son soon, the King would have no choice but to find another, fertile wife.

Rumours the King might listen to. Just maybe.

19 years, three months and 17 days ago:

I awoke with a start. The blizzard outside pattered at the windows, and the palace creaked from the gales.  My sheets were tangled in a mess between my legs, and goosebumps lined my skin from the cold. The fire that roared in the fireplace hours before was now reduced to dying embers. Groggily I sat up in my bed, trying to figure out what woke me up.

Then I heard it again, just a soft whisper in my mind. Something is happening. Something sinister. Something wrong. I rubbed my forehead. It must be a nightmare, nothing more. I tried to quell the ominous feeling in my stomach.

Something is happening. In my head, the cacophony of voices swirled in a hurricane. Something is happening. Fear clenched and unclenched my guts, making it hard to breathe. From outside the room I heard footsteps. The creaking of a door opening and closing.
I jumped off my bed, rushing to the mirror, picking up a match and lighting a candle on the way. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall," I breathed. "What is the Queen doing down the hall?"

A figure twisted into view in the mirror, and even in the dim lighting I immediately recognised the delicate frame and a waist that was far slimmer than any other woman. She wore a white nightgown wrapped snugly around her body so that along with her pale hair and skin, she looked like a ghost. Evelyn was pacing around a ring of golden candles, chanting under her breath. I held my breath, listening to the incomprehensible words. They sounded familiar and strange at the same time, otherworldly. The tuneless song sent shivers down my spine.

Her chanting rose in volume and speed, building like seawater rising to the tide, until she reached a climax that made my heart stop. All at once she stopped. Then Evelyn spoke. "Give me a child as white as snow." She took a step forward, reaching into her pocket and casting white powder so gossamer it slowly floated like stardust down into the circle. "Give me a child as white as snow, with lips as red as blood." She took another step and cast another handful of the white powder. "Yes. Give me a child as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and hair as dark as ebony." As soon as the last handful of powder landed on the floor the candles extinguished all at once, except for one single flame directly in front of her.

For several heart-wrenching seconds the only sounds I could hear were my raspy inhales and exhales. Then I heard a rumble, so low that it was barely more than a quake.

An outline emerged from the thin film of powder in the ring of candles, an amorphous shadow neither real nor imaginary. I watched with revulsion as the shadow swelled until it filled the entire mirror, growing from tendrils of smoke to something that was nearly solid. Then in a surge, the darkness dove into Evenlyn's gut.

She threw her head backwards and let out a sickening scream, a sound of pure agony. She collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and in the surface of the mirror she looked tiny, barely anything more than a heap of clothing. Her scream faded into whimpers, her whimpers into nothing. All that was left was my breathing, and the howling of wind outside.

I gazed at her limp body on the ground. Please be dead. I was afraid, in fact absolutely terrified of what I suspected she was planning. Please be dead. Please, oh please be dead.