Snow White peered down the well, her eyes attempting to make out the sinking outline of the bucket she had just lowered. The darkness, however, prevailed, unwilling to reveal its contents to the girl above. As the pail once again reached light, Snow grudgingly reached for its handle, hence beginning her trudge back towards the palace door. A large sigh escaped her as she completed the tedious task, her mind having lost track of how many times she had completed the action in her last seventeen years of existence.
She stared up at the palace facade, its grandness still continued to astound her, and like every day, she began scanning the beautiful details which adorned it. Though she was only within the courtyard, the back of the castle remained as impressive as its front. From its elegant white marble walls, to its multiple pillars intertwined with golden linings to its grand over exaggerated size. The overall effect was a glamour of purity, peace and evident beauty. But Snow knew better.
As she struggled to balance the burdensome pail, whilst forcing the colossal back door open, the raucous chaos within the kitchen reached her ears. Chefs stood at open fires, hastily incorporating condiments as they expertly manoeuvred the pots and pans being enforced. Servants pressed through the heat and crowds, attempting to supply the ingredients to the chefs. Many collided, before absent-mindedly uttering an apology and toddling off someplace else. However, to Snow, the only thing evident in this reigning havoc, was the defining look of anxiety which every face shared- all wishing and all hoping to please the Queen. A small window within the top corner of the room offered the only air circulation within the "kitchen", as smoke hindered the sight of many.
Dropping the bucket by the door (with a relieved sigh of accomplishment), Snow nimbly made her way towards what she hoped was the door out. After a single light collision, a lot of coughing, and a series of aimless gropes, she felt the familiar wooden door handle which led out of the kitchen. Gratitude welling up within her, she yanked the door open, before stepping into the hallway.
The clean air hit her suddenly, and she took a deep breath, enjoying the little pleasure. As always, it was dark and cold, the single curtain at the end of the hallway refusing to permit the entrance of sunlight. The air itself was cool and crisp. The hallway itself felt devoid of life or any form of residence within the palace. Her footsteps seemed to echo in the deafening silence as she crept towards her room- the storage closet hidden away within the corner.
As Snow stepped through the door, the room proved no lighter than the previous. The sunlight of the mid-afternoon never reached the interior of the palace, let alone the insignificant closet. Her bed consisted of a simple mattress and bed frame, with the addition of a burlap sack, which served a blanket. Though there were no personal attributes to the decor of the "room", Snow appreciated it nevertheless. Her stepmother- the Queen- loathed her, and she wasn't exactly subtle in showing it. As Snow's father had left her on the means of business at her age of three, and her biological mother dead from the childbirth, her stepmother reigned over her, treating her as the equivalent to a servant. The tiny space in which she resided was the only space within the castle in which the Queen refused to set foot upon. And Snow was glad.
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Snow (SLOW UPDATES)
Teen FictionOnce upon a time... There lived a princess named Snow White. But this is not the fairy-tale you were told. Snow has lived her whole life cast out of royalty, treated like vermin, and ordered carelessly about by her vindictive step-mother. She slave...
