An extract from a story I’m writing, it’s sort of a re-told Snow White. Tell me what you think – constructive crit is really appreciated 😀
Six years later
One crisp winters evening, Liliah sat by the window on her comfy chair. A bowl of ripe fruit rested in her hands, a warm fire crackled beside her, and her young son played at her feet. All was well. Despite the fearfully whispered tales of enchantresses and demon children which had first flared up when they heard of her (and still circulated occasionally in late hours of the night, mainly through the mouths of bored housewives and imaginative youngsters), the kingdom had grown to love Liliah as their Queen. She and her husband were noble, understanding and wise rulers, kind but still firm, and the kingdom flourished under their rule.
The Queen rubbed her swollen belly tenderly, then smiled down fondly at her four-year-old wrestling gleefully with the cat. She loved Raolin dearly, but what she longed for now was a daughter of her very own, as every woman does. The baby was coming in a few days; she could feel it.
Liliah gazed dreamily out the thick glass of the window. It was snowing now, and the soft flakes cascading from the sky shone a piercing white against the velvet black of the forest night. She noticed a shooting star faintly flaring across the sky, almost dreamlike.
“I wish,” murmured Liliah softly, “I wish for a beautiful, healthy child – a little baby girl, a girl with hair as black as the night, with skin as white as the snow.” She paused to pick a crisp red apple from the bowl, turning it around in her hands. “And lips the colour of the most ruby red apple.”
With a gentle smile only for herself, she bit into the fruit.
The crunch as she carved into the perfect red skin was like a universe collapsing, crushing, smashing into an infinity of lost fragments.
A beautiful young woman, no more than eighteen or seventeen years old, gazed absently out from the window. If she, or anyone else for that matter, had heard the Queen’s last whispered wish, they may have begun to believe in the power of a shooting star. The girl had wavy, velvet black hair that tumbled over her shoulders, pale snow skin which looked so delicate it could have shattered like a porcelain vase, and rosy lips which curled into the loveliest smile when she was happy. It was her hair which had inspired her name – Thyrassa, velvet in the ancient tongue.
A blonde, tall young man walked into the room and sat gently next to his sister, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder. The two were almost like night and day seated together – her black midnight hair against his golden sunlight.
“Snow, why the melancholic face?”
Although Thyrassa was the name embroidered on her handkerchiefs and inked onto her birth certificate, Snow was the name which was given to her by all her family and friends. She was born on the day of the first winter snow – the pet name was born along with her and had stuck ever since.
Sorry it seems kinda random, the first bit is from the prologue and the second bit is chapter one.