Snow White

Snow White and the Seven Sins

by Jeff Treder

Author’s note:  The Seven Sins as named in this story are those identified by the medieval Catholic Church as the seven “cardinal sins.”  Even today it would be hard to improve on their selection.

Once upon a time a king and queen had a baby daughter.  The King was busy with regal matters so he left the naming of the child to the Queen.  The Queen was the sort of person who would name a girl Snow White—she was vain, pretentious, and silly—and so she did.

Little Snow White turned out to be a very pretty girl with appropriately blonde hair, and the Queen did her utmost to rub her own vanity off onto her daughter.  She dressed her in the fanciest clothes, fixed her hair a hundred different ways, had the court painter incessantly doing portraits of her, and told her six times a day that she was the prettiest girl in the kingdom.  As Snow White was only human, she naturally blossomed into a conceited snob.

One day the Queen died of a bad temper.  The King wore black for a while but could hardly help being relieved.  Snow White now needed a stepmother, and the King resolved to do better this time.

And so he did.  He married the sweetest, nicest, kindest stepmother in the whole kingdom.  She was modest, good-natured, cheerful, and generous—in every way the opposite of the former queen.

Snow White couldn’t stand the new Queen.  The woman was impossible—she simply wouldn’t understand what a very special person Snow White was, and she stubbornly refused to attend to Snow White’s special needs and desires.  No matter how much Snow White pouted and whined and screamed, her wretched stepmother went on smiling and being kind and reasonable.  Finally Snow White could endure it no longer.  She threw a mallet and a vase at her stepmother (they missed) and ran out of the castle, shrieking that she was going to hide in the forest and never come back.

She was so worked up about it that she ran until she really was lost.  The forest was dark and dense, with tangles and twigs and thorns that clutched at her and tore her dress, and strange noises that tormented her.  Now Snow White was genuinely frightened and miserable.  She stumbled and thrashed her way through the underbrush, bawling all the while.  The little forest animals didn’t know what to make of her.

Presently she came to a clearing where there stood a little old cottage.  Instead of being cute and quaint and colorful, however, it was grim and gray and run-down, with cobwebs in the windows and bats flitting round about it.  Snow White wasn’t at all sure she liked the looks of it.  But she was desperate, so she went warily up to the door and knocked.

There was no answer
.
She knocked again, and the door creaked and sagged and fell open.  Snow White jumped back as a few more bats flew out through the doorway.  Then she approached again and peered inside.  In the dim light she could just make out some dirty, ragged old furniture and a lot more cobwebs with spiders attached.  She was just deciding that the cottage must be abandoned when she heard an awful sound coming from the forest, a kind of wailing and moaning of many voices singing different songs all out of tune.  It got louder and closer, until suddenly a procession of figures emerged from the forest, kicking up dust and shoving each other as they wailed their songs.

Snow White shrank inside the doorway as these strange figures approached the cottage.  Each one looked different from the others, but they all were hideous—so gruesomely ugly that she couldn’t even tell whether they were men or women.  She cringed in horror at the sight of them; and yet she watched with a certain fascination.  Strange as it might seem, she had grown by this time to be more attracted to ugliness than to beauty.

It was with mingled horror and fascination, then, that she saw these seven figures come up to the door and halt.

“What is this?” cried one.  “Our door stands open!”

“Burglars!” yelled another, “Thieves!  Robbers!”

“Are they still here?”

“If they are,” another one screamed, “we’ll fry them in bacon grease and boil them in vinegar!”

Snow White was alarmed at this and called out, “No—wait—it’s only me, Snow White.”  And she stepped out where they could see her
.
“Ah,” said one, “Snow White.  Yes, it is you, isn’t it.  We have been expecting you, my darling.  Why have you waited so long to come and visit us?”

Snow White began to stammer something when another of the creatures interrupted her.  “That’s all right, dearie.  You’re here now, that’s what counts.  Come into our humble dwelling and make yourself right at home.”

“Welcome!” cried another with a coughing, cackling laugh.  And they all crowded around her and pawed at her and pushed her into the middle of the room and slammed the door.  Some candles were lit.  The creatures surrounded her, leering and muttering and snickering and winking.  She brushed off her dress and tidied her hair and tried to assume the haughty dignity that she thought befits a princess.

“The time has come,” said one of them, “for introductions.  We know who you are but you don’t know who we are.  Like you, we are all very special people, very special indeed.  And I am the most special of all.  I am called Envy.”

The creature called Envy bowed and grinned.  It was gaunt and emaciated, with large, dark, haunted eyes.  It had sharp-pointed teeth, and its long fingernails, painted crimson, resembled bloody claws.  Its whole body was laced and looped and encrusted with costume jewelry.  It reeked of cheap perfume.

“You have many things to learn from me,” Envy went on in a nervous whine.  “I will teach you to notice things.  You will learn to observe and assess the beauty, wit, and wealth of other people.  This will become a consuming passion with you.  You will never be content as long as anyone else has anything worth having.  You will dream of the day when all of it is yours, and scheme about how you can poison the happiness of others in the meantime.  Yes, my dear, there are many things you will learn from me.”

“That’s enough!” shouted another, shouldering Envy aside.  “Give somebody else a chance to talk!  Like me, for instance.  Take a good look at me, sweetheart:  I’m Anger.”

Anger never stood still, but was forever fuming and gnashing its teeth and kicking chairs and grabbing at flies and squashing beetles.  Snow White could never seem to get a good look at it.  What she noticed most were its flashing eyes.

“Listen to me, kid,” Anger growled, “and I’ll give you some good advice.  Don’t ever listen to what people say, all their reasons and excuses and apologies.  That’s all bunk.  Blast ‘em to bits—that’s what they deserve.  Take that goody-goody stepmother of yours.  If I were you I’d throw a brick at her.  Serve her right.”

Snow White was about to say that she had already thrown a mallet and a vase at her when a cold-eyed, black-clad figure spoke in a cold voice.

“There are other methods that are more rational and efficient.  Find out what things are important to her, and deprive her of them.  If she likes companionship, drive away her friends.  If she values quiet, give her constant noise.  If she enjoys flowers, tear out all the flowers in her garden.  Then she will soon enough learn to know misery as you know it.  I am Cruelty:  I speak from experience.”

“I believe it is my turn now,” said another creature, an obese, bloated one with squinty eyes and puffy fingers.  A diamond-studded tuxedo was stretched taut over its bulging flesh.

“I am Greed, and my advice is better than any you have yet heard because it is concerned with no one but yourself.  What do you care for your stepmother?  Forget about her.  Think about yourself, your own needs and desires.  Think of all the things you want, the things you deserve.  Think of fine clothes and precious jewelry, the richest foods and choicest wines.  Think of the money that will buy all this and more, much, much more.  Contemplate that money, dream of it.  When your desire for it is strong enough to consume your heart, nothing will stand in your way.”

Greed finished speaking and licked its fat lips.  Next to it was a figure slouched in a chair, with long stringy hair, black teeth, and long black fingernails.  It made a wan gesture and spoke wearily.

“What’s the use of it all?  Really, girl, doesn’t it exhaust you just listening to these demons?  They call me Laziness and think it an insult.  But what does all their flurry get them?  Worn out, that’s what.  If you’re really your own master, why make it hard on yourself?  Take it easy—take everything easy.  That’s all I have to say.”

“I beg your pardon,” said another, “but honestly, you have no self-respect.  Allow me to introduce myself, my dear.  I am Hypocrisy.”

Hypocrisy gave a sweeping, old-fashioned bow.  It wore a mask that was something like a Buddha, something like a death mask.  It was tall and stooped, wearing a shiny robe that reflected everything like a shimmering mirror.

“I believe I know your heart as well as I know my own.  What you desire above all is success in the eyes of the world:  to have all those whose opinions really matter fear you and admire you.  If they fear and admire you enough, they will line up trying to please you.  What you must do is always show them the face best calculated to inspire fear and admiration.  Never show weakness, never admit a fault.  I know it works, for I too speak from experience.”

Snow White was much impressed with all of these, but it was the seventh one that took her breath away.  It was even taller than Hypocrisy, with a flinty countenance and shadowed brow:  the visage of a darkened angel.  It was clad from shoulder to foot in a velvety purple robe.  It fixed Snow White with a commanding eye and spoke in a voice of silk and steel.

“My children do not always agree among themselves, but they all agree with me.  I am the source.  I am Pride.  I do not offer advice.  I do not need to entice my followers.  These that you see are merely the first generation of my children.  Beyond them are millions upon millions.  And you are one.”

Snow White could scarcely find her voice.  “How can that be?” she whispered.  “My parents are the King and Queen.”

“You have long since turned against them in your heart.  You have chosen to follow me.  You are my true child.”

Snow White didn’t know whether to be flattered or ashamed or elated or terrified, so she was all of these at once.

“Look at her, though,” muttered Envy, “fancy clothes and all.  Must think she’s still the apple of somebody’s eye.”

“She’ll learn her place soon enough,” sighed Hypocrisy.

“We’ll teach her!” growled Anger.

“What do you mean?” cried Snow White.

Cruelty took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the sink, where she saw pile upon pile of greasy, filthy, moldy dishes and pots.  They towered up into the spidery darkness near the ceiling.

Snow White gasped and shook her head.

“You have to work your way up in this organization, darling,” Greed smiled.

“Exhausting but true,” yawned Laziness.

So from that moment forth and for a considerable time, Snow White learned the meaning of labor.  From dawn till dusk and late into the night she washed, scrubbed, scraped, rubbed, lifted, tugged, scoured, brushed, swept, mopped, and dusted.  But the more she did the worse it seemed to get.  The piles of dirty dishes grew larger instead of smaller.  The shelves and tables and floors got more and more filthy.  And the filthier things got, the more the others yelled at her to work harder.  Anger kicked her and Envy spat at her.  They all told her how lucky she was to be there.  She should show more gratitude.

Snow White was too tired to be grateful.

Meanwhile, back at the castle, the kindly Queen was sparing no effort in trying to find her, but all to no avail, until one day when an old appleseller named Humbert said he had found out that she was living in a cottage deep in the forest.  The Queen at once prepared to send her best soldiers and woodsmen into the forest to rescue Snow White.

But Humbert said, “I’m afraid, your Highness, that she won’t come willingly.”

The Queen was saddened by this, for she was reluctant to use force.

“However,” Humbert went on, “I have an apple here that may be just the thing.  A very rare apple it is, for it grows on but one tree in the world.  It is called the Apple of Repentance.  If your Highness will permit, I will be glad to see if I can persuade her to eat it.”

The Queen sent him off with her blessing.  After a day’s journey through the forest, he arrived at the dilapidated cottage and knocked on the door.  Snow White, being the only one there at the time, answered it.
“Yeah,” she snapped, wiping her grimy brow with a greasy sleeve, “what is it?”

Humbert bowed.  “Apples for sale, Milady—round, red, cool, juicy apples.”

“Got no time for apples,” she said and started to shut the door.

“Ah, but this one,” he continued, “this one is a rare apple indeed.  Whoever eats the whole of it is sure to live happily ever after.”

This caught her attention.  “Happily … ever … after …” she muttered to herself.  In truth, no matter what the others said, and no matter how she tried to kid herself, she was not happy living in the cottage.  Most of the time, in fact, she was bone-weary, frustrated, and furious—but too daunted by Pride and Cruelty to show her fury.

“How do I know it’ll work?” she demanded.  “How do I know it isn’t poisoned?”

“Milady, if this apple fails to bring you true happiness, you may take this head from my shoulders.”

“You better believe I will, too,” she snarled.  “All right, how much is it?”

“Consider it a free gift,” he said, handing it to her.

She turned it in her hand and scrutinized it skeptically.  “It better work,” she grumbled.  And she took a bite.

“Ugh!  It tastes awful!” she coughed.  “It is poisoned!”

“I assure you, on pain of my life, it is not poisoned.  It will offend your sense of taste, since you have lived so long in this cottage.”

“But it isn’t making me any happier!”

“Ah,” said Humbert, “remember:  you must eat the whole of it.”

Snow White was not at all sure she trusted him, but her life in the cottage had made her long for genuine happiness in the worst way, even if it meant eating a bitter apple.  Even, in fact, at the risk of eating a poisoned apple.  So she chewed it up and  choked it down.

And now she knew she was poisoned.  Her whole body, from the inside out, was wracked with excruciating aches and burning pains.  She fell to the ground writhing and groaning.  But she gasped:  “I’d … rather … die … than …” and she fainted into a deep sleep.

Humbert lifted her onto his apple wagon and carried her on the long journey through the forest back to the castle.  The King her father and the Queen her stepmother rejoiced to have her back but feared lest she should never awaken from her slumber.

“She will awaken into new life and joy,” Humbert told them, “only when she is kissed by the True Prince, the son of the King of all kings.”

Months passed.  Autumn turned to winter and winter to early spring, and Snow White slept.

One day in April the True Prince rode up to the castle on a spirited stallion.  One look at him and the King and Queen knew he was the promised deliverer.  He came up to the bed where Snow White lay and looked upon her.  In sleep she had grown more beautiful than ever before, and a peace she had never known was in her face.  The True Prince loved her and felt compassion for her.  He bent down and kissed her lips.
She opened her eyes.  “It’s you,” she said.  And she loved him.

All the people of the kingdom feasted and celebrated for seven days when Snow White wed the True Prince.  Then he took her into his own kingdom and they lived

Happily … Ever … After.