Blanche and the Red Fox

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Once upon a time there was a girl named Blanche. She had skin as white as alabaster. Her hair fell long and straight down her back, like a sheet of rich white silk. Her eyes shone like two ice-covered ponds, a blue so soft it was almost colorless, so pale as to be almost translucent.

Although her family was of noble status, no man had stepped forward to ask for her hand in marriage because they did not think her paleness beautiful. They thought her strange and thus undesirable. She attended the balls held by the prince dressed in her most opulent attire: a beautiful white gown adorned with delicate silver lacing, shimmering crystals, and pearl jewelry. However, no one ever asked her to dance, and she stood on the sides of the ballroom overcome with shame. Blanche was convinced that she was ugly.

Despite this, she had fallen in love with the prince. He was handsome and charming. But, of course, he had never even glanced at her. He only danced with beautiful girls, and she was not beautiful. Those girls had long hair, twisting in luscious curls of golden blonde, chestnut brown, ebony black. Their eyes outshone the gemstones shimmering on their ball gowns: emeralds, rubies, sapphires. Their cheeks flushed a rosy pink, they spun across the ballroom floors as light as flowers floating on a summer breeze. Each was as beautiful as Aphrodite. Blanche wished she could look like them, so perhaps the prince would notice her, perhaps fall in love with her as she had with him.

But she knew her wish was futile, as there was nothing she could do to win the prince's favor with her looks. So, she had resigned to drown herself rather than continue plodding through such a lonely, loveless life.

She left the kingdom and entered the forest, drifting through the ancient trees like a ghost, already accepting the dull existence of a shade. She admired the beauty of the woods: the remaining leaves rustling gently in dance with the wind, dappling the sunlight in elaborate, ever-shifting patterns. The whole forest glowed with a fiery autumn light, just beginning to dull as winter's chill slunk in from the north. The first snow had fallen early that year, and there were still snow drifts under the trees' shade. Blanche walked the path until she came to the pond, its waters calm and dark. She sat down on its edge and let her legs dangle in the water. It was cool and inviting. She thought that perhaps it would be pleasant to let it take her.

As Blanche sat, pondering what death might feel like as it filled her lungs, a red fox came trotting out of the trees. He approached her silently, sitting down close by and watching her with intent golden eyes. Although aware of the fox's presence, Blanche continued to stare down into the water, entranced by the ripples that warped her reflection.

After a brief silence, the fox said, "Might you have some food to spare?" He paused for a moment, then added, "Things are getting scarce, since the snow was early."

Blanche smiled. She had, indeed, brought a small basket of bread and fruit. "Of course," she said, spilling the contents of the basket on the ground in front of the fox.

"Thank you," he said, beginning to hungrily devour the berries. "Your kindness will not be forgotten."

Blanche returned to gazing at the water and the forest, trying to burn the image into her mind so she might have something pleasant to remember as she drowned. When the fox had finished eating, licking the remnants off his snout contentedly, he said, "It's very beautiful, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes," Blanche replied. "This has always been my favorite place to come since I was a child."

"What did you come here for?" he asked.

Blanche stared into the distance with a smile, remembering the happy innocence of her youth. "In the winter, I would come to play in the snow and skate across the frozen pond. In the summer, I would come to weave flower crowns, sing with the birds, make wishes on dandelions. Often, I would simply bring a book and read in the company of the trees. Such beautiful stories..."

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