by Rhulain Swann

Created on: April 08, 2009   Last Updated: May 29, 2012

Snow White and Rose Red: A Retelling

Fairy tales are stories told to us when we were children to lull us into sleep so we could dream of far-off places and magical lands. Fairy tales gave us something to believe in and something to hope for. We could pretend to be the princess of a large, elegant castle or the prince of an entire land. We could be knights that rode fire-breathing dragons and we could live with the Elves in the Enchanted Wood. But what happens when you become too old to believe in fairy tales? What happens when the happy ending you knew so well was all just a lie? What happens when the story doesn't turn out the way it's supposed to?

Once upon a time, there was a little cottage in the woods with a garden in front of it. Near the gate grew a rose tree, bearing white roses. Living in the cottage was a young girl, called Snow White. Snow White was reserved and quiet. She often stayed at home doing the housework or reading a book. She sometimes roamed about in the woods gathering nuts and berries and whatever else she could find to add to her meals. No evil ever befell her, not even in the blanket of teeming darkness. If she stayed too late in the woods and night fell, she would find a place to rest and sleep until morning.

However, good things do not always last forever. Once, when she had slept all night in the woods, she was awakened by the sound of snapping twigs. Her eyes flashed open just as a figure clapped a hand to her mouth, preventing her from crying out.

"No one is around to hear you anyway, child", whispered a gruff male voice.

The man secured a rice sack around her head and threw her over his shoulder.

"We've not far to go, little one. But if you so much as utter a sound, I'll slit your throat and leave you here for the wild dogs to feast on."

Snow White, fearing for her life, had no choice but to obey. The journey was not long but the sack was stifling. As she was about to pass out from breathing the hot air within, the sack was removed and she felt fresh air on her face. She looked around and observed that she was in a cave of some sort. The only way in or out was a stout iron gate, which the stranger promptly barred shut with a long, heavy piece of metal. She heard a hissing sound and soon the cave was filled with light, as the man lit an oil lamp with a lighted match. He was rather young and handsome, tall in stature and well built. He had dark hair and dark eyes that glittered like scarab beetles in the almost darkness.

"What

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