The Other Side of the Story

The normal high school student, Raven, needs to analyse the famous fairy tale of Snow White. Thinking this as easy, she soon uncovers the truth about the perfect Snow White, and realizes it is much deeper, raw and tragic than the story we all know so "well".


27. Overwhelmed


When Irene stepped over the threshold that led to the room in which Snow White lay, she was met by a sight that frightened her to the very core. There, in the middle of the room lay a girl she did not know. This woman was paler than even the finest snow, her hair darker than ever before and her lips were as red as a blood colored rose. Snow White’s special features were usually significant, but now they had been magnetized extremely. Usually she looked beautiful and healthy. Now she seemed dead. The black in her hair appeared withered and fragile, as if it would snap at the smallest touch.

 It seemed surreal. Irene had never seen Snow White that sick. Slowly something dripped from the corner of her mouth. Froth. The white substance was deadly, and forthcoming because of the poison. Snow White’s chest was moving up and down in a gagging motion, and it was clear she had little time left. People were frantically working on her, trying to grasp the condition she was in, and how to counter it. Irene was the only one in there who knew what to do.

No one had noticed her presence until she suddenly announced: “Let me pass. I have the cure!” With determination she pushed past the crowd of servants, and heard the surprised murmurs silently being whispered.

Without hesitation she ripped off the lid of the petite little bottle and threw it behind her, resulting in it crashing to the floor, breaking the newly established silence. Irene was bent over the almost dead body, with no sign of life except the rough breathing. She put her fingers to Snow White’s mouth, parted her lips carefully avoided the froth, and poured the antidote into Snow White’s throat. Everybody was looking intently at the effect, not questioning Irene’s sudden act. Her long wavy blond hair was set up in a royal fashion, with the rest of it resting on her back. Her blue eyes stared at Snow White’s heaving chest that was slowly returning to normal. Step by step color flooded back into her system. Snow White’s skin became peachier, her lips rosa, and her hair alive. Suddenly she looked healthy, and not on the verge of death. This was a slow process, but when she was breathing normally again, all the doctors, servants and spectators exhaled a breath of relief.  

For the first time since she went under into a delusional state, Snow White opened her eyes. What she saw confused her. Familiar faces hovered over her. Was she sick? What had happened to her? Questions filled her mind in the matter of seconds, only resulting in a severe headache. Her eyes gently fluttered shut, sending her back to the safe haven of darkness she had come to love in the last few hours. It was the only place that seemed…peaceful. The black oblivion was all Snow White saw, although now she could not block out the sounds that surrounded her, and the pounding in her head. She could feel all the eyes in the room focused on her, and it frustrated her. She tostled and turned, trying to get comfortable among the many sheets and the hard bed, although it didn’t work. Anger filled her body as her attempts of comfort failed. Her head hurt, her body was stiff and sore, and everyone seemed to be looking at her.

Little did she know, she had only been seconds away from the tight grip of death.

- End of chapter eighteen

Next chapter--->

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