From the Eyes of the Stepmother
They say children are a blessing. They are gifts from above. At least, that’s what my mother would tell me as she brushed my hair.
“Children are a blessing, my sweet. I would never have such a full and happy life without you in it.”
I practiced being a mother all the time. With dolls, rocking and cradling them. With animals, nursing them back to health. Even with the neighbor’s children as I got old enough. Finally, when the time came, I found a wonderful man to marry. A man that would make me the happiest woman alive. A man that could help give me a blessing. A child.
Yet somehow the universe had decided that I was not fit for such a blessing. We tried repeatedly, and the losses were staggering. In the end, my womb was barren and my husband lost his own battle with grief.
Imagine my surprise when one day I find I have fallen in love with a man who already had a daughter. Not only that, but he was the king! I will admit that was part of the charm, but rather a small part of it. He was kind, wonderful, and so loving. And more than anything he wanted his daughter to have a mother.
“Strange little thing,” he chuckled to himself one day, “but what a beauty.” We were sitting on a blanket watching the sunset and enjoying a picnic. He got a wistful, sad look in his eyes. “She needs a mother. It’s not right for her to have lost her mother so young. I still don’t understand how it could have happened.” A shadow passed over his eyes, but just as quickly, a look of steely determination set in. “Yes, a mother, she just needs a mother and she’ll be alright.”
I should have known then something was wrong from the way he talked about it. I should have asked more questions, spent time with her, but I was desperate to be a mother. Here was the king guaranteeing that I could have everything I wanted and more. So I said yes. We married. I became a mother.
She was beautiful, so beautiful. More beautiful than any girl I had ever seen. Everyone loved her. It was almost as if the world revolved around her. Even still, she never acted like a spoiled brat. She was gentle and respectful. She didn’t scream or throw tantrums if she didn’t get her way.
And yet, she always did get her way.
About two weeks after the wedding, I was strolling through the palace, looking for a place to sit and read. Two servants began passing me, rolling a large cart stacked high with cakes, pastries, and chocolates. I stopped them.
“Is this the princess’s lunch?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes, my queen. Is something the matter with it?”
“But this is just cakes and sweets. Where is the fruit? Where are the vegetables? Children need these things to grow healthy and strong.”
The servants glanced at each other. “But the princess never eats those things.”
I looked at them as if they were insane. “Then it’s high time she starts!” I shooed them back to the kitchen and made my way out to the garden where I knew she would be. I stood just inside the door, watching her. She was strange compared to some other children. She always insisted on playing under cover when outside. Even now, she played under an awning that stretched over the garden patio. The king had assured me that it was due to her extremely pale skin which burned easily in direct sunlight. That seemed to make sense; her skin was so white.
Her back was to me, but I wasn’t ready to intrude. We still were just getting to know each other. I didn’t want to force my love on her until she was ready. But oh did I love her already. I basked in the joy that she was mine now, my daughter. Finally, I stepped forward to join her. The servants pushed the lunch cart passed me and I smiled to see a fine array of fruits and vegetables. They rolled the cart in front of her and bowed low, presenting it to her. She continued her play but spoke in a soft voice. So soft, I had to lean to hear her.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It is your lunch, my princess,” they replied, still bowing low.
“Why are there fruits and vegetables in my lunch?”
“Your mother, the queen, insisted.”
“I see.” She tilted her head up until her dark black hair cascaded down her back. “Don’t you think you’d rather eat them instead?” It was barely more than a whisper when she said it, but almost immediately the servants stood back up and began reaching for the plate.
My mouth dropped in horror. They stuffed their mouths with the fruits and vegetables. Their speed quickened, shoving their cheeks full of grapes and strawberries, slices of peaches, carrots and celery, until tears came to their eyes. Finally, only the plates of candies and pastries were left. The servants, still chewing and silently crying, walked back into the castle. They didn’t look at me as they passed. Then I realized; they couldn’t see me. Something was off about their eyes. The princess turned back to her play as if nothing strange had happened. I quietly slipped back inside, the shock rippling through my brain again and again.
I put the incident from my mind and within a few weeks, I had forgotten it. She was a strange child, everyone knew it, and yet everyone loved her. Even I fell in love with her. You couldn’t help it. It was as if you were drawn to her presence. She was quiet and yet her laugh would brighten the darkest room. If only you could be the one to make her laugh, it was as if the gods themselves had blessed you. I began to see that my mother was right. Children really were a blessing.
But in my dreams, the empty eyes of the servants haunted me. The shadow that hovered over every conversation of how amazing she was. Her lips, such a deep red, visited me with a sinister smile. I woke up, sweating and panicky. My breath came fast. I glanced to see the king next to me, his deep snores a testament that my nightmares had not disturbed him. I slid out of bed and pulled a robe around me, slipping my feet into slippers. Light from the window told me the moon was almost full and had risen. I lit a candle and stepped into the castle hallway. I just needed a nice cup of tea to calm my nerves then I would go back to bed. The candlelight flickered and cast huge shadows on the wall. I pulled my robe tighter around me and shivered but not with cold. Then my eyes widened and I stopped.
I could not tell you if it was the moonlight or the candle that had lit up the figure before me, but within a few seconds, I recovered from the startle. Standing in the dark hallway was the princess, her dark hair covering most of her face. Her arms and legs were bare, almost glowing in the flickering light. Her skin really was incredibly white as if she were a living ghost. Yet, she was flesh and blood, wasn’t she?
“Princess, what are you doing awake? You should be in bed.” She didn’t move for a moment. Then she lifted her head. Her hair parted to reveal those dazzling eyes.
“Why aren’t you in bed, queen?”
“I had a bad dream. I was going for tea.” The words came almost compulsively to my lips. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “Now really, you should be in bed princess.”
“I think it is you should be in bed, queen.”
“Quite right,” I could feel myself saying. I turned without hesitation and headed back to my bedroom. My brain screamed at me. What are you doing? Why are you going to bed? Yet, it was as if my muscles did not obey me. Halfway, back to the room, my brain got control again and I stopped. My legs wobbled and I panted as if I had finished fighting an attacker and had no energy left in me. I slid down the wall and tried to make sense of it. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to sleep. Finally, I crawled the rest of the way back to the room and collapsed into bed. Perhaps tomorrow I would know that it was just a dream.
Only five nights later would confirm that it was not a dream and my worst nightmares had come to life.
I awoke from another bad dream to a strange sound. I reached out for my husband, my warmth, my comfort, but he wasn’t there. I sat up. The glow from the dying fire lit up his figure sitting in the armchair. Yet, it wasn’t right. There was a gurgling sound, small moans, and a twitch to his shadowy hand. I slipped silently from the bed and crept around to have a better look. A second figure was hunched over him. It took me only a moment to realize what it was doing. It was biting him, drinking from him. A final gasp sprang from him until he shuddered and was still. Everything fell into place.
Hair as black as night. Skin as white as snow. Lips as red as blood. Snow White, my beautiful stepdaughter, was a vampire and she had killed her father.