The Stories Fairy-Tales Don't Tell

Snow-White

A wind blew about the tiny house, whistling through the trees. Snow-White crouched against the wall, trembling, covered in dirty water.
"Come out, little girl, or I might get angry. You wouldn't want that now would you?" The crone's face pressed against the window. "When you do come out I shall even comb your hair for you." The howling wind eased, and the woman held up a comb. "Isn't it pretty?" She crooned.
Snow-White found herself drawing towards it, transfixed as if by magic. She stumbled on the puddles of dirty water, but still she drew closer and closer. The dwarves' warning rang in her head. Don't open the door to anybody. She had nearly died the day before. Anyone would think that would be enough to shield her from the pull of the spell.
It wasn't.
Her fear wasn't nearly strong enough to protect her.

Trapped in her thoughts, Snow-White descended into madness. She spiralled deeper into her head as the years passed unnoticed. She could not see, speak, touch. Was this death? No-one heard as she screamed into her head.

The grey of dusk hid the prowling bodies of predators. Snow-White had stopped crying long before, but snot and tears were still encrusted on her face. An owl hooted, and a branch snapped behind her. She jumped and tried to run, even though she knew it was futile. What was she running from anyway?
She stumbled and her weak, pale legs gave way beneath her. Never in her life had she walked so far. Her feet were cut and her legs were aching. Snow-White wondered if she had been a fool to refuse the hunter's offer of a quick death. These animals would eat her alive. She shuddered as she pushed herself from the ground, moving deeper into the forest as predators' eyes tracked her every move.

It felt to her like years passed, but it could have been days for all she knew. Her thoughts drowned out any remaining shreds of sanity. She didn't think she could survive much more of this. But aren't I already dead? The darkness of her head surrounded her, blanketed her. Almost comforting.
Almost.

Above her the hunter stood, holding her up with one hand and his axe in the other. Tears ran down her cheeks unbidden. "Please." She whispered. The hunter hesitated. "I- I'll run into the forest." She was shaking with fear. "Please don't kill me." The hunter dropped the knife.
"Run into the forest and never return." He said in a low voice, dropping Snow-White to the ground as he tore his eyes from her.
She ran.

Her mind was a cage she couldn't escape from, and it was her own foolishness that had locked her in. Life was a distant dream. Had she imagined her life? Snow-White tried to snatch at the remaining shreds of memory, but they fled and she was left alone in this endless nightmare. She had always been here and would always be here. No... That wasn't right...

"M-mother?" Snow-White's voice trembled. The queen looked skyward, as if she couldn't bear to lay her eyes upon her. The queen made a disapproving noise as she looked down upon little Snow-White.
"Something will have to be done with you..." Her eyes gleamed. "Be off, child. I cannot look upon you any longer." Snow-White squeaked and all but ran from her mother's rooms. "Oh." Said the queen. Snow-White looked back. "Happy birthday." She stared at Snow-White a moment longer, and then swept away, leaving seven-year-old Snow-White to stand alone in the hall, fighting back tears.

Let me out! Snow-White hissed into the darkness, expecting the silence that smothered her. Please. I was alive once, I know I was. Her words seemed to echo through the chambers of her head, unanswered.

"Apples, apples, anyone want some apples!" Snow-White resisted the pull of the woman's words. Witchcraft. She remembered the dwarves words all too well. Turning her back on the door, Snow-White ignored the painful tightening in her stomach. I'm not hungry. She told herself. There is food here anyway.
She jumped at the banging on the door, biting her lip. It can't possibly hurt to go out and tell the woman she must be on her way.
Tentatively, she made her way towards the door and opened it. Her heart beat faster. Run away. It seemed to tell her. Snow-White ignored the quiet voice. "Sorry." She said, "I'm afraid I cannot see anyone at the moment." The woman smiled kindly. "But surely you can have one of these apples. I was about to throw them out."
Snow-White hesitated. "N-no, no thank you."
The peasant woman gave a toothless laugh. "I will even have half of the apple, if you are afraid of poison."