Upon A Star

Chapter 19

Once upon a star, there was a beautiful girl with skin as white as snow and jet-black hair as soft as silk that fell in perfect curls.

And there was the evil queen who was as vain as could be, obsessed with her own appearance. And she spent her every day talking to her own reflection in the mirror.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?" She curled her blood red lips and stared into her image in admiration of her perfectly structured face; with arched eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and a chiselled jawline. And her black, long hair slicked back into a formal bun, allowing her face to be her only focal point.

"It seems that the fairest of them all is no longer you, my Queen," the mirror replied in the form of a grey mask with almost a whisper.

She clenched her fists and her knuckles flushed white. "Who is the fairest of them all?" She bit the inside of her cheek as she stared straight into the tall and beautifully arched mirror, searching for answers.

"It seems to be, that the one fairest than yourself, is Snow White."

Her heart threatened to jump out of her cold chest, her fists curled into balls but she held back the urge to shatter the foolish mirror into millions of broken pieces.

The Queen held back the temptation to cry out and throw a child-like tantrum, she had to maintain her posture and remain calm. She had to act like the Queen she was, she could not throw out a rage, she was Queen and she had to hold the composure of royalty.

She flattered her eyelashes and continued to stare at what seemed to be her in the mirror. Her eyes sunk deep and tired, she was exhausted. But she was still beautiful, and she was known in far, far away lands for her utmost beauty.

With dark, brown doll eyes, and a nose that was shaped as if sculpted by the Gods, how could anyone possibly resist her?

"Snow White!" The Queen screamed, and clearly, she was forgetting her promise to herself. To hold composure, to act like royalty and to maintain Queen-like posture; all of that was out of the window, so she screamed in desperation. She was going to be the fairest of them all.

Celeste shut the book and focused on her father.

They put it upon themselves to bond, and make up for lost time. They had a lot of time to cover up and the sooner they started, the better. And clearly, they already found two similarities, reading and writing.

So Celeste made a promise to herself. Every time they met, they would read a small section from the Fairytale book that she had treasured ever since she was little.

"This book used to belong to my father," Michael smiled nostalgically. "My Mama and Papa read to me every night, promising that my life would have a happily ever after."

She chuckled in response. "I suppose life isn't a fairytale then?"

He beamed at his daughter and nodded his head in approval, but then, itched his jaw as if thinking if he should mention what to say, and anticipation brew inside Celeste. The mood from light and cheery had gone to sceptical in almost one second, what could possibly ruin their precious father-daughter bonding moment?

"I've never told you about your mother," and her heart caught up in her throat and her skin went cold and white and she felt faint, she tried to breathe in and out but the oxygen surrounding her was not enough. She met her father, but he did not once mention her mother, let alone her name.