Friday, October 26, 2007

Snow White

Created from a prompt for a writing exercise.

The baseball bat smashed the kitchen window, scattering glass and yellow daisies across the back porch. That was what it had come to—their entire life together expressed in the tinkling shards of a shattered window

He had been her Prince Charming, her Aladdin, her knight on a white horse, and all that remained was a hunchback, a beast who growled commands and slammed doors.

She wasn’t certain why she blamed the daisies. They were seven innocent bystanders, whose only fault was being flowers. Flowers were ineffectual quellers of her husbands rages. She’d been pushed aside and quieted, shoved into a corner like an unwanted hardy houseplant. So really, she should have left the daisies alone.

Still, if Snow White had been resurrected by rage instead of love, she would have been less than happy when she saw her seven dwarves. No, Snow White she was not, and her life had ceased to be a fairy tale when the deep claw-marks on her husband’s shoulder refused to heal.

Daisies were just flowers, and he claimed no memory of what happened when the moon was full. Daisies couldn’t help her, but they could always be replanted, and windows could be re-paned. Princes were harder to come by.

1 comment:

Rachel said...

Oh god, yes! Send that out to a few domestic violence places!