The Dreadful Nightmare of Snow White

by Scarlet Danae

  That figure was a man and he kept on standing there. At his back, a crowd of people well dressed for a party was having more than just a drink, launching themselves into wild dances.

  «Err…», I was lost for words. «We’re late»

  «What the hell?», shouted the Dectorade in my head.

  The usher took a rapid look at my weapon.

  «It’s a gift», I lied.

  «What are you saying?», he repeated Cogito desperately.

  The man did not say a thing, but he slowly stepped aside to let me in.

  «What are you doing? It’s dangerous!», he begged me, as I entered the great room.

  «Cut it out! They’re all dead drunk!», I sneaked through the crowd.

  They all swayed and sang along inebriated by the booze.

  That was a large room and had a high ceiling — it was so high to make out of that place the perfect coffin for a giant. From some grapples dangled battered candelabra made with metallic shards and then attached to each other. The walls were a mixture combination of old fliers and unstitched drapery that matched to each other giving birth to a misshapen pattern, more like a stain. I heard the floor screeching at every step. As I looked down I noticed that floor had been covered with mounted sheets of metal soldered at the edges.

  All the guests were dancing to the beat of the music. A melody from that world infected by the tune of the world where I came from. It sounded as Celtic’s but had some shades of what could have been high-quality New Wave.

  I paused, for a second, looking at the guests. They were going wild, rubbing with each other, whereas there were others that chatted dead drunk onto metallic sofas — these appeared uncomfortable to my eyes, as well as painful, especially for those who were making out undisturbed. Their clothes, despite the eccentric patches and the pins embellishing the fabrics that could be varnished or torn, made them look like upper-class people, different from those I met that same day down the streets. Society folks; those all made up in their brand-new Dectorades, lost between useless drawing-room conversations and the music, who were playing games were all society folks: the nobles. And they stood there, lodging on the top of the Screw Tower which lorded over the muddy, rotten, city where only outcasts lived.

  So, I had sniffed the air of the heights, in the end, and it sucked.

  It smelled like scents mixed with sweat.

  I swam into the crowd. My eyes, instead, ran along the ceiling where some bodies hung caged inside chrysalises. I flinched from there terribly shocked and, stumbling, I hit something with my back.

  A table. A long, sharpened and right-angled table in iron whose revolting courses quietened the roaring of my stomach — that grumbling reminded me I hadn’t eaten nothing yet.

  «Don’t you dare!», said Cogito, despite the fact I was starving.

  Suddenly, a hand laid down my shoulder and a guy, whose mask was covered with long spikes, told me to go after him — the spikes of his Dectorade could have blinded whoever around him.

  I swallowed, whereas Cogito desperately assumed that he had unmasked us.

  «The Lord of the Tower wish to enjoy your company», added the mysterious man.

  What else could I do? I bet the Lord would have never taken a “no” as answer. That’s why I nodded and agreed to walk after him. As we proceeded, my eyes drifted down to his tracksuit of sequins and straps, down to his… Butt cheeks. Seemingly, even though in Snow White's world, I still had that kind of urges. His was an appealing rock-hard bubble bum, that his tight pants didn’t mind leaving in plain sight. No relationship with the fat creep who was waiting for me sat on his throne of glass and junks.

  I was lucky to wear the mask, or else the Lord would have clearly seen the loathing on my face. I was disgusted by his protruding and sweaty belly, bloated to such an extent that it poured out on the Lord's filthy pants. Not to mention his ruddy and stained cheeks that grinded the filter of the mask, from which a waterfall of tentacle-like hoses hung up. On his little head — couldn’t be otherwise — a crown was stuck: a can full of nails and pins.

  The Lord beckoned me to come forward. His hands were big and red, they were like a pair of blown up latex gloves. I took a deep breath and blew up my lungs in order to breathe as less as possible the stench the Lord released.

  I could smell it, even from that distance.

  Before him, I bowed to show off my obeisance, following by the book Cogito’s suggestions.

  «My Lord», I said in a mellow voice.

  «Who are you, charming creature?».

  «My name is Bianca, my Lord, I’m from a place far, far away».

  «What place could be so far to hide such a beauty like yours?», he said with his nasal voice.

  «Come on, my Lord! Isn’t it exciting to preserve a little mystery?», I replied moving my hips, showing the leg on the teared side of my gown.

  The man laughed; he sounded like the thuds of a bouncing ball or like coughing withheld during the night, when everybody’s sleeping in the house. I had convinced him.

  «Please, regale me with your presence. Sit here, at my feet».

  I did what I was told to do and curled up down his feet, then I laid an arm on his bloated thighs. I begged myself to hold back a retching, since every corner of his skin, every pore or particle it was, it released an unbearable rancid stench.

  «Pour me some wine, my fair lady from the faraway land», he ordered brushing my face.

  I notice what seemed to be a jug of wine with sharpened and threatening edges. I took it and when the Lord gave me his glass — a miniature bin — I filled it up with that wine as black as petroleum.

  «Tell me a story»

  «Yes, a story», he repeated gulping down the wine. When he had the glass emptied, the Lord passed it to me so that I could fill it for a second time.

  «A story, Cogito! C’mon!», I cried in my mind.

  «Let me think!», he answered desperately.

  «So?», said the Lord annoyed.

  «Got it!», exclaimed Cogito.

  And as I narrated the story, repeating word by word what my Dectorade was telling me to, I kept on pouring the wine in the glass of the Lord.

  «Ha!Ha!Ha!», the man bursted out laughing. «Super-fun!»

  «Ha!Ha!Ha!», I faked a laugh. But I actually thought there was nothing fun about that story, since it ended with bodies torn to pieces and gusts spread all over the place, like in a Jackson Pollock work of art.

  I stood up softly and then I sat down the legs of the Lord. I was trying to win his trust. Lightly, I touched his cheeks in the attempting of loosening his tongue.

  «Now, tell me, I’ve heard it said you have dangerous prisoner, here, at the Tower».

  «Who? We have a lot of dangerous prisoners here», he said with a cocky attitude, even more bloating his belly.

  «C’mon! I know you got it! He!», I approached to the Lord’s ear and then said: «Fart-knight!», I whispered.

  «Darknight!», yelled Cogito with his shrill voice that rang within my head.

  «Darknight!», I corrected myself, trying to keep control.

  The Lord looked at me, petrified. «The monster». He became pale as he thought about his old enemy, and upon his lips I saw shiver of dread. «He’s segregated on the 45th floor », he confessed with an evil joy in his voice. «His grave!»

  «What a brave man you are! It must be tough to keep a place like this streamlined!», I flattered him pouring more wine. «How fearless you are! For you’re able to keep that beast behind bars!», I sighed. «Oh! How I would like to see the look of such a horrible man!» and faking a certain naivety I showed him the neckline of my dress, paying attention that he saw my breasts jumping out of the bustier.

  The Lord stood mesmerized by my chest. «Would you really see him?»

  «Of course, I would», I sighed. «that guy’s like a winner’s prize for you, isn’t he? The mightiest one», then I dealt the fatal blows: «The mightiest, after the one you keep locked away in your pants, isn�
��t so, my Lord?», with the tip of my fingers, I grazed the inner part of his thigh, «Do you like uncorrupted girls?», I asked pointing my eyes into his, black and hollow. He nodded, and I chuckled, «In this case, I will tell you my dirtiest wish: to be deflowered, my Lord. Take my maidenhood in the cold cell where the monster is supervised! Would you grant my wish?».

  Cogito uttered a loud shout. «How dare you promise the pure chastity of Snow White to this nonentity!»

  «You depraved Lady», said the Lord. «Never I have met a woman like you. I like it», he sneered.

  I saw some guards had entered the room with the corner of my eye and figured out there was no time left by the way they scoured every little space. They were looking for me.

  «So, shall we go?», I proposed.

  «…Right now?»

  «Once the party will be over, I might have vanished, like a dream! In addition, being next to you it’s too much for me. I’m on fire, as never before». I brought his hand onto my chest. «… Can you feel that?»

  The Lord swallowed. He took me by the hand, giving me the feeling of crushing a warm jelly, and then he dragged me away. He led me to a secret passageway hidden behind a drapery. We found ourselves before a staircase whose rungs were several pieces made of iron, and they were fixed to each other with screws and bolts, that squeaked at every step. I was holding on to a yielding handrail of rusted iron, whose presence — given his condition— was totally unnecessary.

  «We’re almost there, my dear», the Lord said, climbing the stairs speedily and nimbly, thing that was in total contrast with his appearance as well as his being overweight; probably, the excitement made him forget about his fat.

  We reached for a huge door; it was big, high, as much as the door from the floor below, though it looked more crumbling, unmaintained and darker. From it, a feeble feeling of terror spread towards me and it made it clear that, inside, there was someone really dangerous.

  «Here we are!», the Lord stated. «Now take a closer look, my dear!», he said pompously, then, full of a childish pride, he showed me his ring: a huge and silver bolt. With his gaze he pointed a little opening near the door, making me realise he was the only one who could go inside.

  He slipped the ring into the crevice and turned it three times.

  A click resounded quickly followed by a clang, while the mechanical scrolling of the hinges struggled to open the door.

  «So, my dear, what do you think…», he could not end his question because I hit him in his head with my vacuum-cleaner.

  He fell on the ground, stunned. «You were so into my breasts you didn’t even noticed I had a weapon, you moron!», I laughed at him.

  «We don’t have time for this!», said Cogito. «The guards are still looking for us!

  «I know! I know!», I grumbled.

  After that, I walked inside the prison. A dark room with shades of ocean blue; comparable to the depths of an abyss where I was venturing into, with my breath bated.

  There was a man, before my eyes. A man with his wrists handcuffed by a pair of rusty chains nailed onto to walls, up to the ceilings. His body was immobilised from that tangle of plate. At the bottom, there stood a great computer surrounded by a golden frame. It was saving several data, codes — to be clear. And all these codes were scrolling tirelessly.

  I got closer, slowly. I heard the echo of my footsteps alternating to the ticking coming from those peculiar machineries; they seemed to climb the walls like monsters shaped in iron. I carefully studied the man, whose face had been paralysed using a sort of iron-like grip. Even that man was wearing a mask like mine, a Dectorade, but that had a different appearance since it was made of leather and garnished with studded belts and zips as well. What's more is that his face was entirely hidden by the mask which left only an eye uncovered: his right eye.

  He was asleep. His feeble breath could be heard as a hiss.

  «What am I supposed to do?», I asked Cogito. «How can I set him free?»

  «With a digital kiss», he replied. «You have to link me with Darknight’s Dectorade»

  «How?»

  «There’s a cable on my right, can you touch it? Plug it into his mask’s USB portal, you’ll find it on the left».

  «Wait! How can I be sure that it’s just a digital kiss and not your sexual perversion?», I asked.

  «Bianca! You’re trying my patience! You, sick pervert! Hurry up or else, I swear, I’ll give you such electric shocks that your hair will curl!»

  «Woo! Chill out!», I said open my eyes wide.

  As I approached the more to the man, I looked for the USB portal. Once I found it, I did what Cogito told me to with a fair bit of uncertainty. I swallowed because of an emotional short circuit, but I did not know why, actually.

  «Are you scared?», Cogito asked. «Are you afraid of Darknight?»

  «I’m not. I just feel… Nostalgic». I admitted. «Also, I’m not so sure about this story to plug your cable into his Dectorade’s hole…»

  «Bianca! I warn you…»

  I jumped and with no other second thought I connected Cogito to Darknight’s Dectorade. A both slight and electric shock stiffened my body, gently passing me through, in a way that was exciting and that took my breath away.

  The man opened his eye and watched me with a glazed look. We stood staring each other and I got lost into his emerald iris.

  I heard a certain confusion, at my back, so I swivelled and saw a large group of both guards and androids running forward, armed to their teeth. Suddenly, a noise from behind, an uproaring sound of chains and iron, made me comprehend Darknight was finally free.

  The guards sounded the alarm. They aimed at us and then fired.

  I widened my eyes asking to my loyal vacuum-cleaner to swallow all the bullets up.

  Holding tight my weapon, I had the impression that a lightning had passed me by. My eyes saw that man called Darknight exterminating all those guards in few shots; he only had two swords and they were encircled by a dusky aura. He pulled the blades back into his body, in the same way which chains and ropes drag away two violent beasts.

  Silence. Electric buzzes caused by the robots cut in two halves and, then, my heart; my heart that flitted about, moaning. My heart that dove into nothing, the moment Darknight turned towards me.

  «Let’s get out of here» was what he said, his voice sounded empty.

  As we quitted the cell, we found some other guards waiting for us with their studded armours and their helmet-shaped masks.

  It seemed their number had no limits.

  «Stay back!», Darknight said, blocking my way with his arm.

  I was gobsmacked and did not speak for a while. When I tried to, he darted forward, and all the guards were swamped by his swords.

  One of those poor victims’ head rolled up to my feet, I looked at that without turning a single hair and then I kicked it away like a ball, hitting another guard right in his face whose helmet issued a nosily ding. I stood there watching the whole scene the same way a spectator, sitting at the cinema, realizes he just bought a ticket for a shitty movie.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE MECHANICAL SPIDER

  When the clang of swords died away, all that remained were the bodies scattered all over the floor. I moved forward pushing far the corpses, which stood in my way, with the tip of my shoes; stepping over some of them or trampling others.

  «We have to go. Now!», affirmed Darknight, after he stole a small bag from a body. Th sack jingled slightly and so I presumed it had lots of coins inside.

  Throughout the escape, I stood at Darknight’s back and it was quite boring. I watched him with my arms folded as he scythed the enemies with disarming ease. He led me up, to the top of the Tower, amidst shots fired against the air, drawn swords, pieces of robots and guts of guards that rained down and around on me. All this happened as I swayed among a state of nausea, astonishment and frustration since I could not take part to the fight. On the peak of the Tower, we had a fine panoramic view over the c
ity of Mercenaries in all its grime. I should have felt relaxed, and yet it seemed to me that something wasn't quite right.

  «You know, I think I missed something», I considered.

  «We have not time for that», Darknight replied.

  The man took me tight for a wrist and dragged me away with him.

  «Listen, I know that! But It’s just…», I objected nervously.

  «Where you, folks, think you’re going?», a voice echoed, as the owner was speaking through a megaphone.

  Here’s what I’d forgotten: The Lord. He was sitting within a small control's cab of a giant, mechanical, spider that stood before us. The Lord fiddled with levers and pushbutton and he looked like he was going to hit us, fiercely.

  «No doubt that it’s a well-crafted robot. Who knows how much it has taken to him to build it all up…», I remarked, watching the spider meticulously.

  «That’s not the point!», Cogito shouted.

  «Let me guess…», I said turning to Darknight’s who stood still as if he had been paralysed. «…He got you with this, didn’t he?», I asked.

  «…I’m an arachnophobic», he said shortly.

  «Oh. What a petty thing from a Lord to take advantage of other’s weakness! And how did he find this out?»

  «I don’t feel like talking about that…»

  «Are yeh gonna fight this, at least?», I asked in a worried tone.

  Though, Darknight could not move a finger. So, it was up to me.

  I grasped the weapon, as the long, mechanical, legs of the spider squeaked thunderously. I tried to push the button, but a smoky burst took me by surprise: in my hands, there was now the old rucksack of Brother Lustig.

  The spell had expired.

  «I will catch you!», the Lord threatened us. «You, Darknight, you’ll go right back to your cell. Whereas, you, Bianca, you’ll be a property of mine!», he laughed noisily.

  «Get this out of your head, your excrescence! You, shuddering mound of dirty an' stinky bubbler! You, infected lump!», I shouted.