23 September 2012
The darkness descended,
A quilt of black,
Flung over the forest,
And that decrepit shack.
The night was silent,
As the stranger rose,
Softly waking the dwarves,
The assassins he chose.
He had plotted this murder,
Easy as pie,
She would believe,
Every one of his lies.
The door creaked open,
But Snow did not awake.
As the stranger crept closer,
The dwarves in his wake.
Knives in hands,
Snow opened her eyes,
A stab.
A scream.
No one heard her cries.
They covered the wound,
Left an apple in her hand,
These murderers were clever,
They fled the land.
Spreading a rumour,
Twas the stepmother, they said,
Blinded by jealousy,
Used an apple, so red.
Let that tale be a lesson.
The death of Snow White,
Don't follow the stranger,
Take this advice.
For, you never know,
He could be looking for you,
After all, he's looking for-
Victim number two.
The Real Snow White: Part 3 • Opuss № I