Beanstalker and Other Hilarious Scarytales

That was not happy.

But no one was sad for very long. Snow White was too beautiful for anyone to stay sad. At first, her stained lips and her pure black eyes were uncomfortable to look at. But the longer anyone looked into those bottomless eyes, the more they realized how much they loved Snow White. The poor baby!

Snow White was beautiful.

Snow White was good.

Snow White was sweet.

They would do anything Snow White asked.

And they would feed her whatever she wanted.

Yes. Look into those pure black eyes. We love Snow White.

We love Snow White.

The king’s new wife stepped out of her carriage. She was late. It didn’t seem to matter. It was dusk, which was when everyone in the castle started coming out and getting their work done. Everyone slept all day and stayed up all night, because that was what the king wanted, because that was what Snow White wanted.

The king’s new wife watched as they scurried about—pale, weak, with dark circles under their eyes and vacant expressions.

“Oh dear,” she said.

The king had sent her a letter with shaky handwriting. He said that Snow White needed a mother, that Snow White was a dear little thing desperately in need of new company, that Snow White would change the king’s new wife’s life forever. The king’s new wife had thought it odd that he never said anything about how much he wanted her as a wife, or what a good queen she would make. The letter had been entirely about Snow White.

Still. She never turned down a stepchild.

“Isn’t it weird how no one here has a tan?” her stepson, Jack, asked, but she shook her head and drew herself up to her tallest, most queenly height.

“Come along, Jack,” she said as she swept through the courtyard and into the castle.

The wedding was scheduled for midnight. The king’s new wife put on her finest gown, changed her black hair from a no-nonsense bun into cascading curls, and fastened a heavy gold necklace around her throat. She didn’t look at all witchlike, despite what certain princes would think upon seeing her at a tower.

“Looking good, Mom!” Jack said.

“Hmm,” the king’s new wife said, gazing critically at herself in the mirror. Her skin was as fair as new milk. This fair is a nice way of saying that she was incredibly pale, prone to horrible sunburns, and didn’t look good in very many colors. She was, in fact, as fair as a person could be while still being a person.

That will be important later on.

She made her way regally to the castle chapel. This was her first marriage to a king, and she was excited in spite of herself. But when she got to the chapel, no one was there. A servant meekly informed her that the wedding would take place in the castle cemetery. By Snow White’s request, of course.

The king waited for her there. He was thin and stooped, and his clothes hung on him like a very wealthy scarecrow. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes and a vacant expression on his terribly pale face. But the king’s new wife was fairer still.

At his side was a small girl of seven or eight. When she saw the king’s new wife, her black eyes lit up with anticipation. Her gaze lingered on the gold at the king’s new wife’s neck. Snow White licked her beautiful red lips and smiled with her sharp teeth.

The king’s new wife smiled back and said her marriage vows to the king.

But when she said, “I do,” she was looking at Snow White and thinking, Oh dear.

The king died a week later. The king’s new wife was now the queen: sole ruler of the kingdom and sole parent to Snow White.

The midnight funeral was an odd affair. No one cried, and the queen insisted on burying him with wreaths of garlic. “It’s a custom where I’m from,” she said. It wasn’t.

The next morning, the queen went into Snow White’s room bright and early. The windows were covered with curtains so thick not a whisper of light came through. Snow White lay still and silent as death on her bed. Her hands were clasped on her chest, her face serene and beautiful.

Well, she didn’t lie on her bed, so much as over it. She hung from a bar, upside down, black hair pooling around her.

The queen ripped down the curtains.