It was a beautiful day in the Forest of Witches and Beryl; the Benevolent Witch had awoken to sunshine, birds chirping and imaginary boats bobbing on an imaginary sea. The last part was her own invention and she fancied herself as a creative type capable of not only good magic but more than bright cheerful thought.
Her sister who had been born with the bad gene was so wicked as to defy all description so I shall refrain from such descriptions so as not to offend the sensitive readers that I know you are.
Needless to say the sister Esme (ugh see below) was infamous, reported in every fairy tale known to man and lived audaciously in a house of gingerbread, which as every one knew was nothing more than a lure for poor ignorant lost children. One day Beryl the Benevolent Witch knew her evil sister Esme (ugh, see below) would receive her well-deserved comeuppance.
Beryl lived in a house made from golden spun plaster board, with silver lined shingles and furniture that simply caused you to gasp in amazement should you be so fortunate as to enter her humble abode.
Now Beryl went about doing good works and on occasion’s good things. Like baking for the local Witches Families in Need Guild, sewing for the Witches Sock and Garter drive for Witches serving in the Military and she was a tireless worker on the Spells New and Old Stall at the Witches Fete held annually in her own backyard.
On this day Beryl had heard a whisper that the little girl known as Snow White was soon to be discovered by her evil sister, Esme. It was not a name spoken too loud anywhere in the Forest of Witches. (Saying the name is enough to put a bad taste in your mouth, go on say it out loud, spit and have a long drink of Witches Mouth Wash, the only way known to witch to rid oneself of the taste.)
Esme (ugh bad taste, bad taste) worked on commission for the evil stepmother over at the castle on the edge of the Forest of Witches. It was a lucrative job keeping all the stepmothers stepchildren under spells or asleep, whatever curse she favoured at the time.
But Snow White had done a runner and Esme (ugh, bad taste bad taste) had been on a mission to find her.
Beryl knew all about Snow White and had secreted her in the home of the seven dwarfs. She had gone to great lengths to warn her about accepting fruit baskets from anyone.
Beryl decided today was a call to arms and above average attention to detail. She disguised herself as a tree outside the seven dwarfs home.
The disguise was perfect as each of the dwarf’s small dogs gave testament to as they trudged off to work singing their favourite and only song, ‘Hi Ho, Hi Ho Its down the drain we go….’
Snow White was left to wash up the breakfast dishes as she did every morning. Beryl was watching, aware that an itch was beginning to form under her bark, just to the left of a favourite knot hole…at the same time she noticed movement and around the bend came a little old lady, pushing her walking frame on which was perched, you guessed it, a fruit basket.
The old lady went to the door, knocked as Beryl was frantically trying to scratch and remember the incantation to get her out of the tree.
By the time she did so Snow White had munched half the apple and was looking decidedly more peaky by the second.
There was just enough time to send an exiling spell the way of the old lady whom Beryl knew was Esme (ugh, bad taste, bad taste) before Snow White fell to the floor and drifted into a long sleep.
Drats thought Beryl who gathered up the sleeping Snow White and knew there and then that another tale was going to have to be thought of to get Snow White out of this pickle.
As she carried her off she thought of what it could be, Snow White Sleeps the Long Night? ‘No! What’s a long night,’ she thought, ‘can’t go scaring children can you.’
She’d always wanted to call a tale ‘Beryl Saves the Day’ but she was smart enough to know no one would read any tale with her name in it.
She knew she’d think of something as she flew over Prince Charming’s castle pondering what name she might give this Sleeping Beauty.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/02/25/tale-weavers-54-fractured-fairy-tales/
Morpethroad 