Following on from my
Space Oddity
stories, I'm still in a whimsical mood so here goes. Think you know the Snow White story? Uh-uh! The Brothers Grimm were circumspect when recording the tale and Disney got it all wrong (much too sentimental and he had to think about the film's rating anyway). This is the true account of what actually happened (trust me on this!)
There is sex but it's secondary to the plot and characters in sex scenes are eighteen years old or over (and I bet you never saw that declaration in any Disney film credits). All characters are imaginary—any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental (not to mention highly unlikely). I hope you enjoy the story.
With acknowledgements to Akira Kurosawa's
Seven Samurai
and John Sturges's
The Magnificent Seven
.
(Perhaps I can get back to my serious story now that I've got this off my chest.)
Copyright © 2019 to the author.
* * * * *
...once upon a time in a land near yet far away ...
...a lonely hearse stood in the middle of a lonely street and beside it lay a lonely corpse. As corpses go it was fairly ugly (even very ugly) but that was the nature of its species. Death had not improved matters although the Grim Reaper had tried to be generous at the time of the subject's sad demise (an empty moonshine bottle lay near the corpse's hand—it had passed over happy).
The hearse was quite handsome, constructed of the finest wood and glass and gilded like the proverbial... some sort of flower but the corpse couldn't remember what. Or it wouldn't have remembered had it been alive. Between the shafts of the hearse stood a pair of unicorns: the elder was patient and wanting only to return to his comfortable stable for a bucket of ginger beer and a dish of oatmeal and cream; the younger unicorn pawed the ground, anxious to get the job done so it could go and visit a certain lady unicorn rumoured to be pretty easy with her favours.
On the verandah of a moonshine-and-rotgut saloon two men stood arguing. "Look, I paid you two groats to give that a funeral and it's still lying there getting even less healthy than it is already."
"And here's your two groats back!" snapped the other, the local undertaker, "They just won't let me take it up there."
The first man gaped. "What's wrong with this town? That's only Galoshes Hill up there, nothing but gone-to-the-bad elves and gnomes with the odd evil fairy buried there. They weren't fussy in life as to who they mixed with as long as he bought the drinks so I'm damned sure they won't be fussy now!"
"Ah," said the undertaker, nodding his head wisely, "You've put your finger on it. Elves and gnomes. Old Razzmatazz there..." pointing to the corpse "...is a hobgoblin and that mob..." waving his hand at the crowd barring entry to the graveyard "...don't want the likes of him buried alongside the likes of them."
"Won't anybody here drive that hearse?"
The undertaker shook his head. " 'Fraid not."
"Oh, for the Great God Pan's sake, I'll take it up!" The two men turned and found themselves looking down at a female dwarf standing there. A little over four-and-a-half feet tall, she was nicely proportioned with a middle-aged yet still-pretty face framed by dark hair streaked with grey. Vivid blue eyes glared up at them. The stranger was dressed in standard dwarf fashion, chain-mail shirt, rough leather jerkin and leggings, iron helmet and an axe-belt that looked as if it had seen plenty of service. Her whole demeanour suggested this was a dwarf you didn't want to mess with.
The undertaker held a hand out to his companion. "Two groats!" he grunted, gesturing to a minion to load the late Razzmatazz into the hearse's passenger compartment.
The dwarf clambered into the driving seat and the unicorns perked up. Unicorn Senior thought: "Great! Ginger beer with oatmeal and cream ahead and plenty of it!" Unicorn Junior's thoughts were a little more coarse. "Great! Carnal knowledge tonight and plenty of it!"
The dwarf felt someone scrambling up beside her. She turned to see another dwarf female, a little younger, also pretty, and heavily armed. "Never ridden crossbow on a hearse before," the newcomer commented, "What's your name?"
"Chrissie. You?"
"Viv."
The two shook hands. Then Chrissie eased her double-headed axe in its holster and unbuttoned the sheaths holding her throwing-knives. Grasping the reins she said: "Okay, Viv, let's get up that hill and kick some arse..."
[Cue: stirring and dramatic music]
...and early one morning in the royal palace...
...wicked Queen Malicia sat up in bed and stretched, her naked body tingling with the sheer pleasure of waking following a good night's sleep. As always, she stepped out of the four-poster bed and went straight to the full-length mirror where she could admire herself.
"Not bad for forty-five... er, thirty-one," she murmured. Tall with waist-length blonde hair and jungle-green eyes, she had medium-sized breasts with large pink areolas and long nipples which were never less than erect. Malicia was particularly fond of her hair; most folk expect wicked queens to have raven-dark locks and so she was able to fool most of the people most of the time. She ran a graceful hand over her mound and between her legs. Good, no stubble. The depilatory essence she had created in her secret laboratory was the most effective yet. She fingered her pussy for a while, smiling to herself. "...and who is the gayest of us all..." she whispered to the mirror.
There was no answer and she expected none. This was not her magic mirror, just an ordinary one with no occult qualities. The magic mirror was mounted on another wall, covered at all times, except when in use, with a wrap of black velvet. Irrationally, and the Queen sometimes admitted to herself that it was irrational, she felt that the magic mirror was male and lewd, a natural peeping-tom pervert that enjoyed leering at her when she walked around naked as she did most of the time in her own quarters.
There was a quiet knock at her chamber door and a pretty little red-headed maid servant entered carrying a breakfast tray. There was jasmine tea from distant Cathay (courtesy of
Genie of the Lamp Imports Inc.
for the very best quality) with two lightly boiled eggs, brown and speckled (the Great God Pan help the hen that refused to lay brown and speckled eggs—they tended to end up as cock-in-a-van), a toasted muffin and three pots containing fresh butter, quince conserve and honey. Queen Malicia made no attempt to cover herself although the maid politely averted her eyes.
"Look at me, girl," the Queen commanded and when the maid did so continued: "You are the new girl, are you not? What is your name child and how old are you?"
The maid bobbed a curtsey. "I'm Honeysuckle, your Grace, and I'm one month and a few days past my nineteenth birthday."
