Poison Apple

The Last Ending

The sweet spring air was thick with the scents of perfume and and wedding flowers. Ladies dressed in brilliant gowns of red and pale blue and golds and greens sailed past on their escorts' arms. Everyone looked so innocent, so perfectly naive.

The only evil they knew in their lives so far was me. I knew that as they got older, they'd deal with the other types of wickedness; murder, adultery, greed, and lies. But so far, it was only me.

"Mama, mama!" a young girl squealed as she skipped towards me. " Who's this lady? She's pretty!" She sniffed the air.

"You smell like apples," she giggled. "Like the ones that Papa brings from the tree out back. Mama bakes with them, and when she does, the whole house--"

"Jane!"

A woman rushed forward, crying out in panic as the girl hid behind my skirts and clutched it tightly.

"Get away from my daughter!" the woman seethed, marching toward and tearing June off my dress. "What did you do to her? Did you curse her? She was talking about apples wasn't she? I heard her so...oh no..."

June's mother backed away from both me and June, horror spreading across her face.

"Did you give her one?" she demanded, her voice trembling slightly. The entire town square went silent, as dozens of pairs of accusing eyes trained themselves our way.

Lifting my head higher, I locked her muddy green eyes in my bright dark ones.

"I didn't do anything to your daughter," I hissed in her face. "It's rude of you to go around accusing people like that. Your daughter follows your steps. Make sure they're good ones."

June's mother began to sob melodramatically.

"Hear that!" she shrilled. "Hear that witch torment me! May she go to hell with Lucifer and his followers!"

The townspeople gathered in a crowd behind her and started chanting angrily, stamping their feet and spitting. A small cluster of eggs sailed past my head, and rotten fruit landed before my feet.

"I wish you no harm," I say in the calmest voice I can muster. "I need to see your new queen."

"And what will you do to our new queen, bewitch her?" a youth asks, stepping up. "You may as well enchant all of before we let you do that."

"I don't want to enchant you," I emphasize. "I must see your new queen."

"Upon my dead body," hisses an old woman.

Desperation fills me as I look around at the sea of bristling townspeople. There will be no way I can get through them. But I can't let them sense my fear. It was time for more lies.

"How many dead bodies have you walked over, my fellow enchantress?" I coolly ask the old woman. "I know for a fact that you boasted of morphing those two little girls in Duvenport. You said so on the night of last full moon."

The crowd gasps and shies away from the bewildered old woman. Panic lights her face, then anger as she realizes my trick.

"Stop twisting their minds, you wicked witch," she snarls. "I am not an enchantress of some sort. You however, are."

"Ah, I must be mistaken," I say lightly. "It was indeed, not you who transformed those girls. Another enchantress did that. Why, you were the one to curse that apple tree in the royal gardens over in the next kingdom. Well done I say, all the royal children died after eating that fruit. The rosy cheeked prince, the flax haired princess...and the emerald eyed queen too."

"I-I..."

Two burly blacksmiths rise up and seize the old woman who shrieks and flails, striking one on his soot stained face. He leaps back in panic, touching the spot where she struck him.

"She has struck me!" the blacksmith roars. "She is a witch! A witch!"

The townspeople yell in agreement and start closing in on the old woman in a circle. I quickly drape my cloak over my head and start running for the nearest alley while the diversion lasts. Hopefully, I'll be halfway to the palace before the people realize that I've gone.

I weave through tangled streets, full of roaming dogs and dirty children. A beggar eyes me for a coins I don't have anymore, the children sneer, revealing cracked and yellow teeth, dogs bark and bite at each other in a frenzy as I draw near. My stepdaughter's kingdom truly is revolting at its heart.

I finally reach streets clear of beggars and peasant children. Instead of torn laundry hanging from windows, there are bright streamers of blue and gold cloth. Guards in bright uniforms guard a stone bridge leading to a towering castle of marble and stained glass.

"I am here to see my stepdaughter," I say cruelly. The harsh tone springs out of my mouth before I can stop it. I know what's happening now. It's the Story. My tale is ending, so therefore, the Story is controlling me and everyone else. I can do nothing now.

The guards lock their swords in unison and my hand flies out under the control of the Story. Twin jets of blood red light shoot from my hands and hit them both in their hearts. Both guards collapse the the paving stones, lifeless.

I gulp in horror and anxiety as the Story moves my feet forwards. The wedding bells are ringing a fairy like tune, pink roses decorate every possible surface. Today is a happy day, but not for the guards'  families, nor me. I am the so called villain.

My pace quickens in a run, and I suddenly feel jealous. Wickedly hot jealousy. The Story is taking over my mind now too. I feel hatred start to blossom in my chest, towards a girl who should've died. A girl who should've never been born. I feel like a murderess. After all, I'd tried to be one, didn't I? Twice.

Finally, I can see a huge set of wooden doors clasped with brazen locks. Slamming my hands down on the locks, they melt away and spill to the floor in a puddle of liquid gold. The doors explode off their hinges and fly inwards.

"Stepmother."

My eyes coolly lock in bright blue equals in a much fairer face. My stepdaughter, Snow White.

The Mirror was right. She was more beautiful than I, and she'd only grown even more radiant in the time she was here. Straight, glossy, raven hair was piled onto her head in an elaborate hairdo strung with pearl laces that framed a snowy complexioned face. Blood red lips curved into an innocent, sad, sweet smile. She looked unearthly with the ivory wedding gown on her, with floating sheets of lace like mist.

"What is that you want," she crooned. "Today is a day of love."

Her new prince laughed, disguising the mockery in it and stepped down from the veiled dais. 

"I believe that she wants some justice," he announced. "My advisors have consulted."

He turned towards his new wife.

"I think you should go with their bridesmaids, dearest," he said gently. "What is to be seen next is not for your fair eyes."

Snow nodded and kissed him gently on his chiseled cheek. Flashing an alluring smile, she swept away, beckoning to the small crowd of young women who obediently followed like ducklings.

"I will take what you can give me," the Story declared confidently from my mouth. "After all, I am an enchantress."

The prince's mouth curved into a thin, plotting smile. Snow White had married a monster just like herself.

"Bring them out," he ordered quietly.

A manservant next to him quickly ran out of the room and returned pushing a small, two tier blacksmith's cart. The top tier was covered, and a fire was being stoked on the bottom tier. Reaching the wedding dais, he threw off the metal cover with flourish, revealing a pair of red hot shoes made of iron. With tongs, he lifted them off carefully onto a smoldering pallet and presented them to me to waltz in.

The tale would end with my dying dance.