by Raven, C L
"Don't put your grubby mitts on my dress," she told me. "It's dry-clean only."
"Gotta do it tight, love, or your fat will bulge." I put my foot on her back for extra leverage. She gasped then collapsed as the laces cut off her oxygen. I stared at her lifeless form, flexing my fingers. I hoped that wasn't arthritis setting in. "Let's see how pretty you are when your face turns blue. So long, Snow Shite."
I danced back to the castle, cackling with glee. Ok, so maybe I have cackled. Once. But this was a special occasion. Maybe a life as a career criminal was beckoning. I could be an assassin when I got bored of queenly duties. Killer Queen has a nice ring. I could make up business cards. Vista Print had a sale on.
The next day, I woke feeling full of the joys of murder, addressed my mirror and asked,
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"
"Well it's not you, love," the treacherous mirror responded. "Snow White's still the fairest."
"You're telling me a corpse looks better than me?"
"Those weird little men cut the laces and revived her."
"Bastards! Oh she's for it this time. I'm gonna terminate her contract with the living once and for all. Not only is she pretty and adored, she's freakin' immortal! God I hate her!"
I took my best comb and dipped it in a special solution I called Sayonara Snow White. I stormed off to the woods, transforming into a chubby countrywoman. The things I do for murder. So degrading. I knocked on the door but this time she didn't open it.
"Hey sweet cheeks, I've got this pretty comb to show you. It'll look stunning in your hair. Really impress your boyfriend." Though you've got seven, you tart.
"Bog off. Last time I opened the door I nearly died."
Nearly only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. "It's a comb, love, not a home made bomb. Just try it, see what you think. I'll give you a fifty per cent discount. You want to be pretty, don't you?"
"I'm a ten and most of the men in the kingdom are after my hand. I just have to unlace the top eyelet of my corset and they'll do anything I ask. I doubt a comb will improve me."
"Not even one covered in the finest jewels?"
I waved the comb back and forth. Naturally that money grabbing wretch couldn't resist and hurried outside.
"Hand it over then." She looked me up and down, contempt contorting her face. She looked like a gargoyle sucking a lemon.
I stabbed the comb into her luscious silky hair, grinning that I'd fooled her again. I'm surprised she's not starring in a shampoo advert, paid to flick her hair around, making the rest of us feel inferior because we've got split ends and roots showing.
Snow White collapsed as the poison seeped through her body. Terrible immune system. That's what you get when you don't do any dirty work. Helpless with laughter, I slapped my thighs. Fell for it again. I ran home, sniggering whenever I thought about it. The scrumptious Will kept asking what was so funny, but of course, I couldn't tell him. He wouldn't find the idea of his poisoned daughter as funny as I did.
With Snow White out of the castle, he was more, let's say, attentive to me. We didn't have to worry about waking her. We even tried positions from my special book. Though I nearly put my back out with the Wheelbarrow. Her death was best for everyone. I told him I'd arranged for her to do work experience, help her gain life skills. He loved it. I even faked letters to him from her. I'm so bad. (He loves it when I'm a bad girl, as he proved by our spankathon last night.)
The next morning, I donned my sexiest lingerie and shimmied over to the mirror before asking it that question.
"Still Snow White."
"What?!"
"The dwarves saved her again."
"For the love of murder! Those bloody dwarves! They're ruining my plans! I should kill them as well!"
"Why not quit before you're discovered?"
"I won't quit 'til she's six feet under. She won't look so pretty when she's rotting in the ground where only worms will appreciate her."
I fetched my spell book. This one couldn't fail. I could've taken a gun and shot out her pretty face, but that would leave evidence. As she branded me a witch, it seemed fitting to use magic to end her charmed existence. I'm fond of ironic punishments.
"Eureka! A poisoned apple! It's so simple and yet so devious. Little miss 'I never put on weight' will be watching her figure with seven men to keep happy. An apple a day helps her cook, clean and play."
I slammed my spell book shut, making Mr. Darcy jump. He shot me a filthy look then stretched and fell asleep. Cats have it so easy. If only I'd taken the time to train him into becoming my own personal assassin, but you know cats. Won't be taught anything. I transformed myself into a fat farmer's wife and filled a basket with apples, placing my poisoned apple on top. I set off for the forest, whistling a merry tune.
I sang a taunting song as I skipped through the woods. Not many women my age can skip gracefully. I'm just not appreciated. Well, Will appreciates my grace, flexibility and magic touch, but that's another story for the late night edition. I rapped on the cottage door, humming.
Snow White leaned out the window, her bouncing bosom reminding me of its superiority.
"Put the girls away! You're blocking out the sun!"
"I'm not allowed out."
"Are you so hideous people will curl up and die if they see you?"
"It's for my own good."
"They're trying to control you, sweetheart. How 'bout I just pass you some apples, you can make them a sweet apple pie."
"Fine but they can make their own damn pie." She scowled. Silly girl. I passed her some apples then held out the poisoned one.
"This one's for you, my dear. You're looking peaky. Skinny little wraith aren't you? You need meat on your bones, girl." Nice, juicy meat for the wildlife to feed on when you've returned to the earth.
"You need less meat on your bones."
She took the apple and bit it. She crumpled to the floor. I burst into raucous laughter. Beauty, no brains. I checked to make sure she really was dead. She was. That was a relief. I would've hated to stave her head in with a frying pan. I don't have much upper body strength. Not even her precious dwarves could save her now.
I returned to the castle and hunted for Will. This needed celebrating. He was appreciating my seventeen inch waist, even if nobody else was. We spent most of that week in bed. The world was definitely a better place without Snow Blight. He often asked why his darling daughter hadn't come to visit him. I wrote a letter from her, claiming she'd been promoted to being a Lady's personal assistant and couldn't take time off, but was hoping to visit in the summer. This pacified him for a while. Even when she was dead, she was still making my life awkward.
Ten days passed since Snow White's tragic demise. I faced my mirror.
"How do I look this morning? Glowing? Ravishing? Queen of people's hearts?" The mirror didn't answer. I sighed. He could be so insufferable. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" I struck a pouting pose.
"Snow White."
"She's dead!" I hissed. "Formaldehyde isn't a recognised beauty treatment!"
"Snow White's alive."
"A zombie can't be more beautiful than me. She eats brains for heaven sake! She smells like dead people."
"The dwarves put her in a glass coffin."
"Were they planning on studying her rotting process, mark each stage on the calendar?"
"A prince rode past and fell in love with her."
"There's a word for people like him. Why isn't he in jail?"
"He took her back to his castle."
"What was he planning on doing with her corpse? Stuff it and sit it on the settee so they can watch X Factor together? Can't get a breathing girlfriend, huh?"
"The dwarves agreed. As they moved her, a piece of apple fell out and she woke up. They're due to be married. She will make a beautiful bride."
"The apple piece dislodges and she miraculously wakes from death? No-one wakes from death unless they're th
e un-dead! Her organs will have shut down! Her brain's been starved of the oxygen that makes up ninety percent of it! She'll be partially decomposed! This isn't possible! I bet no-one's calling her a witch, salivating at the thought of burning her at the stake."
I threw back my head and screamed at the top of my voice. Even when she was dead, people fell in love with her! How? What did she have that I didn't? I was alive! Even the natural rotting process didn't touch this stain on mankind. I smashed the mocking mirror. Daddy's little princess was marrying a freakin' prince! A prince just happened to be walking through the woods. Why couldn't it have been a bear?
Now, in Snow White's version of this story, I become so enraged I turn to dust. What am I? A vampire? We've already established that lying little troglodyte can't be trusted.
This time, the letter Will received from Toad Features was genuine, outlining her plans to marry this corpse fancier. I heard through the castle gossips the wedding was going to be the biggest event ever. Little miss perky tits has already upstaged me in the beauty stakes and had Daddy wrapped around her nasty little finger, no way was I going to let her wedding upstage my wedding. I had a jewel encrusted wedding cake. Beautiful to look at and it broke some guests' teeth. Such a fun day. Anyway, according to the gossips, the handsome prince (they're never ugly leches with piggy eyes, bad skin, halitosis and snaggle teeth) was busy organising the wedding for his precious princess. So busy he needed extra help. I smiled as I stroked Mr. Darcy. I had a plan of action and cold blood. This time, it wouldn't fail.
***
I knocked on the Nec Romancer's castle door in my latest disguise – super chic fashion designer. Complete with stylish glasses, the latest hairstyle and arse implants. The door was opened by a handsome butler. I told him why I was there and he led me straight in. No frisking, no demanding to see ID. Castles these days, so lax with their security. I wouldn't have minded being frisked by that butler. He looked like he knew how to polish my valuables.
I ogled his fine peach of an arse as I followed him into a room so grand it made you want to puke. Why do wealthy people have absolutely no taste when it comes to decorating? There she was, sitting on a throne while handmaidens tended to her. I wanted to smack that pretty pouty face until it turned to putty.
"Who are you?" She asked, disdain distorting her features.
I curtseyed. "I'm your super expensive fashion designer. Your handsome prince hired me to make your dress, be by your side up to your big day and look after you. Every bride needs a wedding planner. All the celebrities have one."
"I'd better be the most beautiful bride that ever lived or the whole day will be ruined." She sulked. "I want a magazine deal, celebrity guests and commemorative merchandise."
This is what happens when you don't install discipline. They turn into Mariah Carey.
"Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about that. It will be my honour to put your head on a plate. I'll make sure you have a wedding day you'll never forget."
Midnight Kiss
The moon glowered from its pearly throne. A black cloud pierced its heart, its silvery blood spilling over the ground and awakening the shadows that lingered in the dying day. Night creatures awoke to play beneath the black veil, daylight's shackles cast away now the sun's judging eyes were closed. A castle emerged from the night, majestic in its decrepit beauty.
Two motorbikes stopped, expelling dust that scattered into the air like exorcised ghosts.
Casey killed his bike's engine the same time as Alex. "That's not on the map."
"Neither's Hell, doesn't mean we should explore it. It's probably Dracula's castle," Alex said, poorly imitating Dracula's accent.
"That's in Transylvania, dumbass."
"Like that's a real place."
Casey dismounted, removed his helmet and approached the castle. He struggled through undergrowth that had formed over the forgotten path like scar tissue. He tripped over hidden rocks, falling to his knees, a forsaken worshipper beyond redemption.
"There's something called daylight," Alex called, shaking his head and following. "It was invented for seeing things."
The streetlight flickered then died, like a broken heart that had stopped beating. Night's satin shroud swept over them, teasing their warm skin with its chilly caress. Alex tried the big wooden gate, but overgrown ivy sealed it shut. Thorny bushes concealed the castle from prying eyes.
"There must be a way in," Casey said.
"And a guaranteed way in to the police cells for trespassing. Once was enough, thanks. It's pitch black, freezing and there's not a living soul for miles. This is the perfect breeding ground for horror movie monsters. I refuse to die a cliché."
"Hope you're packing silver then."
"I'm packing something but it ain't silver."
"I'm flattered Alex, but I don't want to ruin our friendship. Plus you'd never call me back in the morning, making me regret blowing my wages on that sexy babydoll."
Alex laughed. "Jerk."
Casey battled through the bushes, tracing the perimeter.
Alex cursed when a bramble smacked him in the face. "Anything this well protected must be evil. Horror films always start with fun-loving friends on an adventure then one of them messes with stuff they're not supposed to and bang! An unkillable serial killer is on their trail for ninety minutes. Breaking in to a creepy impenetrable castle is exactly the kind of thing that graces horror DVD shelves."
"You'll be the first to die then."
"You're the one disturbing the legend."
"What if we've discovered a forgotten castle? We could claim it. Casalex Castle. I've always wanted to live in a castle."
"Only weirdos and vampires live in castles."
"No, vampires live in respectable communities, go to school even though they're hundreds of years old, only feed from blood bags and woodland creatures and date the new girl in town. Get with the times."
"That's what they want you to think." Alex cackled. "You just dissed the legend. You're gonna die."
"I'll make it to the sequel."
"It might be a new film by an edgy director and when the audience think you've made it to safety, wham! You're butchered right at the end and your eyeball will fly out and hit the camera lens."
"Not many deaths result in a flying eyeball."
"It's growing in popularity."
Unnatural silence urged them to turn back. Casey ducked overhanging ivy then his foot fell through brambles, snagging his knee. Alex yanked him free, thorns piercing Casey's flesh through his PVC trousers. Low branches grabbed their hair and jackets, tugging them back to whisper evil secrets in their ears, the tree's bony fingers stroking their faces as it held them captive. Alex snapped a branch then pulled out his penknife and carved the end to a point. Casey raised his eyebrows.
"Fresh out of silver."
"Sexy and resourceful." He pretended to swoon.
They stopped at the big wooden gate again. Alex swore and kicked it. Casey backed up, staring up at the castle. He could feel its siren song, luring him in.
Alex sighed. "Let's find a pub. I'm starving."
"I have to get inside."
Alex headed for his bike, mounted and turned the ignition. "Count of three then I'm leaving you to the vampires."
Casey took one last look at the castle then reluctantly jogged across the road to his bike.
"First thing tomorrow, we're coming back. This would make a great setting for a short story."
"You said that about the jail cell. The only thing you wrote was your signature on the release form."
Alex sped off, so Casey fired the engine into life and stalked him. Alex eventually saw a pub sign swinging – The Sleeping Castle and pulled into the car park.
"It's the castle," Casey pointed, grabbing his camera and photographing the faded, battered sign. The hinges squeaked, like a groaning gallows burdened by the weight of hanging men.
"It's not undiscovered – you can't claim it."
"Casale
x will happen."
"If you wanna live with me so much, why don't you marry me?" He pushed Casey towards the door.
"You'd break my heart."
Thick oak beams criss-crossed the red walls and ceiling. Mahogany furniture occupied almost every space. Black floorboards creaked beneath their biker boots. In the corner, a fire danced to music only it could hear. Casey found a table while Alex approached the bar. Casey pressed his face against the window and swore he could see the castle if he closed one eye and squinted.
"You'd better not be licking that window, Case." Alex put his pint down and slapped him up the back of the head. "You know the rules – the crazy stays in its straitjacket when we're exploring new places."
"Did you ask about the castle?"
"No fit barmaid's gonna care about some crumbling ruin. I've ordered food." After half an hour, Alex drained his pint and slammed it down. "I'm going out for a fag."
"You won't meet nice boys in a pub car park. At least prowl the lonely hearts ads."
"Sweetheart, you're the only guy for me. Casalex forever." Alex drew a heart in the air, slapped Casey's cheeks and walked out.
Casey pulled his Notebook out of his bag and carried it to the bar.
"Do you have WiFi?"
The barmaid gave him the code, so he tapped it in then returned to the table.
A pint was thumped in front of him. He jumped.
"There's not much info. The castle's been abandoned for a hundred years. Nobody knows who owns it. Nobody's been inside. We could be its first occupants for a century!" He gasped. "Imagine if the castle was sealed against the plague and everything's untouched, like the Marie Celeste. I could make a short film. I hope there's a dungeon. With skeletons chained to the walls."
"You want to add 'resurrecting ancient fatal disease' to your breaking and entering charge? Please tell me you flirted with the barmaid in my absence?"
"I asked her for the WiFi code."
Alex sighed and shook his head. "She's giving you googly eyes and you're salivating over a pile of old stones and bones."
