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Beauty.

What is beauty?

What is considered beautiful?

Those were questions I asked myself time after time, as the answer was always unknown to me. Was it the way a person smiled? Or maybe how one would look at the world with a different pair of eyes each dawn.

My name is Astrid Fletcher and I am by some means, ugly.

With hair dark blonde, eyes as green as leaves and lips as pink as a blossom tree, I am still deemed ugly. I was born with curiosity and intelligence to out smart a whole army, but still, am unworthy.

My cheeks are rosy and my skin is untouched and not to mention my fierce tongue at a debate, but still, unwanted?

The scar across my eye hasn't hindered me as much as my grandmother thought it would have. She shielded me much of this world, hiding me in a cabin, far away from any town. She heard the stories of the Evil Queen. We all had.

How she would snatch a girl and kill her with her bare hands, just for being considered, beautiful. My grandmother was afraid to loose me after losing my mother to the plague. So that's why she did it. She let some old tale determine my future.

It was on my fifth birthday, my fifth time around the sun. She had to do what she thought was right. The vision of her wearily slicing my eye is still engraved in the back of my skull. The excruciating pain I felt at such a small age. Pleading and crying, asking her "Why?" And "Had I done something wrong".

I hated her for many years after that. How could I not? She hurt the most frail thing in this world, my trust. After a while, I came to understand, that she didn't do it to be cruel, she did what she felt was right. I was no longer a target for her majesty and her soldiers. I wasn't afraid to sleep at night just incase they came knocking. They would take one look at my face and turn the other direction.

My grandmother truly became my best friend as I got older. She was the one to teach me everything I know. How to shoot an arrow to how to make the best stew with only three ingredients. I miss her everyday. Especially on tonights eve. It's my 21st birthday tomorrow, and I'll be celebrating it alone.

Since living in such solitude, I never had any friends, but that didn't matter when I had my grandmother. But now that she's gone, I feel as alone as the moon. Watching the stars around me die to only be reborn and excel, and I'm stuck in place watching it happen, right in front of my eyes.

I close the door to the cabin fiercely. Cold air slips through the cracks and I shiver fixing my coat. Another day of a failed attempt at hunting. Brushing my hands together I see my breath make its way into the air. As cold as ice. This winter has been harder than last, If that's even possible. The sun never shines and our crops haven't been growing for years now. I'm barely surviving.

The only thing my grandmother could leave me was the land we lived on, that not being much. My cabin is small and quaint, but it's home nevertheless.

Finally getting the fire started, I stand up. My reflection catches me off guard. I'm as skinny as a twig, not by choice. Hunting has been scarce. This Winter seems colder and deadlier. I pull my face slowly, my cheekbones have sunken in. "God" I whisper.

I turn my attention to the stew. It's bubbling over the fire with a small sizzle. It's not even enough to feed me. I have to leave and get supplies tomorrow, if I don't, I know I'll end up dying of starvation.

After eating what wasn't much, I lay down closely beside the fire. I breathe a long breath. Like clockwork, the Golden haired woman comes into my mind. I try thrush her out of my head, but it proves unsuccessful. This has been happening more often than I'd like to admit. Why was I thinking about such an evil woman? As the fire dims, I brush my fingers over my scar lightly.

Was my grandmother being protective, or was she sensing my fate?

Was I ever going to see the queen who ruled kingdoms and killed people with a brush of her hand? These feelings have been coming more and more to me lately, only when I try sleep. Is it a secret message? I finally feel the peace wash over me and dream state cling.

A final breathe takes me into the dark abyss of sleep. Yet still, Queen Ravenna, is stalking my mind like a predator after it's prey.

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