Fiction Friday! Aaah…jealousy. We all have it. We all feel it. And now we’d like you to write about it. We’ll leave it open: you can write about something or someone you envy, or a time when your jealousy got you in trouble, or maybe how it makes you feel to be envious. Whatever you want. And it can be fiction or non-fiction. Word limit is 600.
The Snow Queen stood in front of a silver filigree mirror contemplating the smoothness of her own skin. She traced the line of her jaw with a white tapered finger and frowned slightly. Reflected back at her are clear blue eyes and black eyebrows so perfectly arched they looked brushed on by beauty herself. Though she knows that her youth has furtively slipped out the back door, she’s not so blind as not to see that a strong, more mature beauty still resides in the hallows and planes that construct her famous face.
“Are you ready, my lady?”
The Snow Queen smiles. There is no way to answer that question with any kind of honesty. She isn’t entirely sure how she ended up in this battle with her own daughter. How the tales of her performing ridiculous rituals attempting to grasp firmly something that eventually eludes us all spread so viciously quick.
The Snow Queen pulls back her still lustrous black hair and feels like screaming, ‘Why would I ever reach for something that I have so much of still?’ But she knows that one cannot scream against the power of changing opinions and whether warranted or not, her Kingdom decided for change and needs her toppled from the throne so they can love their new Queen as fully as they once loved her.
If she lived ten lifetimes the Snow Queen would never have lifted a finger against her own blood. Yet, there had been proof of the hiring of assassins, payment in jewelry and seals in wax, either forged or stolen. It hurts her that her own daughter would believe such lies, or worse, created the entire fable for her own advancement.
Casting her eyes around her chamber one last time, she sees a small portrait of the Snow Princess, done when she was falling off the cusp of childhood into that wonderful age before adult desires and plots. The Queen cannot help her pride knowing that her physical grace will live on in the daughter who will no doubt offer her a treat so rare that it cannot be refused and immediately consumed in front of their guests, as is the custom in this land of sparkle and ice.
Full of years of practice and grace the Queen seems float down the corridor to the meeting hall, and to her seat. Just before sitting she touches the back of her daughter’s hair trying to send one message. Oh, my daughter, jealousy can cause one to do the ugliest of things, but this act will stain you forever. Time alone would have taken from me what you so envy, if you had just waited. Her daughter smiles up at her with eyes identical to her own and for the briefest of moments the Snow Queen foolishly thinks that maybe the Princess heard her after all.
As soon as she sits the fanfare begins and in a world so dominated by winter colors, the red of the apple glares from across the room. The scent of orchards fills the air; she grasps it in her hand marveling at the cool weight of this miracle. She takes her first bite, glad that the sweetness of the flesh well masks the poison within. She continues taking perfect bites for as long as she can and when her back arched and her sight faded she heard the Snow Princess say, “You may all now address me as Queen Snow White.” Ah, yes, the Snow Queen thought, my daughter, never one to be outdone.