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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1010121
Link from Snow White to Cinderela. needs work, please help

Epilogue
The story of the huntsman traveled throughout the realm,
stopping, finally, at the palace of the queen.
Upon hearing such a tale, the queen rode into the elms,
intent on finding the truth to this story.
She jumped off of her horse once she had sensed
the cottage spoken of in the yarn.
Upon reaching the threshold, she tapped her fist against
the wooden panels that served as a door.
A dwarf opened the door, and she looked past him,
wanting to see whether the rumor was true.
At the sink washing dishes, was Istas, her figure slim,
her black hair washing over her pale, pale skin.
Beyond her elbows, her sleeves were massed
where scars and bandages could be seen,
a remembrance forever of the past.
She pushed through the man at the door,
and fell to the dirt floor of the den,
and sobbed out her forgiveness;
claiming that she never meant it to happen,
but her love for Gustav blinded her.
Snow White had turned from the dishes,
recognizing the voice of her stepmother.
Silence befell the cottage as the betrayer awaited forgiveness,
and the betrayed waited to forgive.
At long last, the girl stood by her stepmother in the grim.
“I do not go by that name anymore. I am Snow White,
and I have been since I ran from him.”
The queen looked up at her pleadingly.
“I know that I may never be forgiven, but will you at least
consider giving me a chance at being your stepmother,
or even your new friend, with the old deceased?”
Snow White stood in front of her groveling stepmother.
“You try to have me killed, by a demon of a man,
and then you beg my forgiveness?
If you were I, would you forgive even that of your clan?
Answer only this, truthfully and correctly.”
The queen sat on the ground, staring into the dirt below,
for several moments. Finally, she looked up.
“No I would not. And answering such, I do not know
how I could have ever asked your forgiveness.
But still, I want it so much. I want to explain to you
what actually happened that day I asked him to
rid my household of you” She looked up through
her pleading eyes. Snow White looked down at her,
her expression as vacant as a grey winter sky.
Finally, she shook her head.
The queen hid her face in her hands, letting out a cry.
Snow White shook her head again, but did not lean down.
“Stepmother, I forgive you. From this day forward, I will not
think of this incident again, but I will also not think of you.
I don’t want to know what on that day, you bethought,
and now, I, for certain, do not care.”
The queen sat on the floor, stunned at what her actions had done.
“I . . . I suppose I could never truly understand, but I
accept your decision,” she said, her words sounding barren,
with the cover of queen of the kingdom showing on her face.
“But I bid this of you: farewell, and as a last request,
will you please accept a gift from the kingdom?”
Snow White stood above her, watching her face confess.
Finally, she offered a hand up.
Once the queen had risen, she said, ”I accept.”
The queen smiled, and tried to hug Snow White. Snow White
pushed her off, cringing back into the house neatly kept.
Pain was clear on the queen’s face. “I wish the best of days to you,
Snow White, and I want only you to know, that I am sorry truly.”
She quietly left the cottage, and climbed to her horse.
And as she sat, her shoulders shook and shivered silently,
the tears of one mistake wet upon her face.

A few days later, the little cottage received a letter.
Snow White retrieved a grant to a home in Dalicma, the next kingdom over,
from the newly opened creamy white paper,
and a number for a bank.
That night, over dinner, they all talked,
Snow White, Aden, Rupert, Juan, and Ethan.
And that night, it was decided, though several of them were still shocked.
Rupert, Juan, and Ethan would stay to continue their crafts,
while Aden and Snow White would leave, to start a new life,
a new family without a past,
with a new home in a new kingdom,
empty of all horrors that befell them in the last.
© Copyright 2005 Madison (rwpfenni at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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