“Mirror Mirror on the wall, how do we make the wretched Snow White fall?“

“Send a hunter to tear her limb from limb, with a dagger and heart twice as grim. She will never suspect the man faceless under his brim, to carve out her face. “

“So you, my Queen, can wear her hollow grin, and smile as she regrets being the mortal Sin.”

And so went the evil stepmother to summon the entity of the Hunter to her throne room, impatiently tapping her black claws against the wooden arm of her chair. She pulled back the splinters of wood and chuckled when they would catch and prick her skin.

When the Hunter entered, she resumed composure and rose with grace, her black cloak gliding against the red marble floor. The Evil Queen hated waiting, when he bowed to kiss her signet ring, she gripped his chin into her hands, and dug her nails into his flesh, grinning as the surface wounds receded into his face, and the rotted skin pieces fell to the floor. The Queen peered down and stepped on them, and remarked:

“You shall take the girl into the woods and dispose of her. Be wise to bring me her face, and you shall have your wish.” The Hunter croaked and slithered into the cracks of the tile shrouding the floor in noir.

And so the Hunter went, and carefully placed Snow White’s skin into an engraved black box, and the adorned brass snakes on the lock intertwined and snapped shut. Immediately, the Hunter resurfaced in the corridor of the Queen’s chambers, landing as the floor creaked and the torches flickered. 

The Evil Queen entered carefully, her nightdress opening when she reached for the engraved box. Her hands trembled as the snakes receded into the curved grooves of wood, and she lifted the lid slowly. Her lips curled into a smile, and from her scaled lips escaped a muffled chuckle. 

With pace, she walked to the throne room without her attendants or guards, threw herself on her knees, pressing them into the cold marble to ground herself, and lifted the sacrificial box to her mirror. She screamed “Magic Mirror on the wall, take this skin and answer my call!”

The huntsman lurked behind and staggered back when the mirror flickered. It’s green light perforated every inch and corner of the room. 

The bright rays of light startled the Evil Queen, who then dropped the box and scrambled to pick up the skin of Snow White’s face and pressed it over hers, collapsing to the floor, and screeching in agony.

Without pause, the room fell silent. When the torches finally flickered back on, the hunter ran to his Queen, but her frame was eerily delicate. He peeled her face off the floor and brushed her frizzed tendrils behind her ears, but she did not have the appearance of The Queen.

What remained was a mosaic of skin grafts cemented together in black ooze. With horror, he dropped his majesty and realized she had been tricked, and he would not receive his wish. For her greed, she would spend centuries wearing porcelain masks, all painted with the vigor and youth of The dead Snow White. 

The time had come for the princess to leave her home and join the frog-turned-prince in his kingdom. She was nervous and a bit frightened, as things had turned out quite unexpectedly. Faithful Heinrich, the servant of the young king, arrived with the carriage that would lead the princess off to the unknown place she would now call home. As the coach pulled up and Faithful Heinrich stepped down, the princess felt her stomach drop with fear. There was something within her telling her to be afraid, to turn back, to run.

“It’s just nerves,” the princess thought to herself. “Besides I don’t have a choice.” Faithful Heinrich opened the door and turned his attention on the princess, offering his hand to help her in. The princess took in a sharp breath. There was something off about this man. His skin was sallow, pitted, and dark circles ringed his eyes. And his eyes. There was something deeply unsettling about them, almost unseeing like there was no life behind them.

“Run! Turn back! Escape!” Her thoughts screamed, every muscle in her body tensed to flee. But her father was watching, and the prince was waiting. Slowly, fighting every one of her instincts, she took the man’s hand. She started at the touch. His hand was ice cold, corpse-like.

She looked back at her father, pleading with her gaze. He smiled and nodded prompting her along. She looked to the prince sure he would notice the strange state of his most faithful servant. The prince smiled at his bride, showing no acknowledgment of the condition of the man before him.

She stepped into the carriage. The prince followed behind her, and Faithful Heinrich shut the door. Heinrich took his place in the back and the coach headed on its way.

The journey seemed to last forever. The princess could not relax, every hair standing on end, every muscle tensed to flee. Finally, she turned to the prince.

“Does your servant seem off to you? Do you think he is sick, perhaps?” the princess asked him.

“Whatever do you mean? Good old Faithful Heinrich is my most beloved and loyal servant. He is most helpful and welcoming. You will find he has many special talents to help you with whatever you need,” the prince responded and smiled. “Don’t worry yourself, dear. It is all to his design.”

This last statement by the prince confused the princess and sent alarms through her mind. “What is he talking about? What design? What is going to happen to me? What is Heinrich?”

The princess turned around and looked towards the spot where Heinrich sat. He was looking straight at her with his dead eyes and an unsettling smile.

If you don’t like eyes or eyeballs, consider scrolling past this one.

Once upon a time, there was a Prince. He was the youngest son and, rather than spend his time cooped up in the royal palace, the Prince set out to travel the world with a loyal servant by his side.

During his travels, he had occasion to stay in the court of a foreign king. While doing so, the Prince happened upon the princess of a distant land. She covered her face and wept over the loss of her golden ball, which had fallen down a well.

Though he could not see her face, so charmed by her sorrow was he that the Prince swore he would reclaim her ball. So saying, he jumped into the well, riding the bucket into the deep.

The Prince found himself in a corridor filled with water. The water was filled with pulsating balls that at first looked like eyeballs, but upon closer inspection, were simply to be the eggs of tadpoles.

Still, as he walked through the sea of eggs, he felt as if they were staring at him—eyeballs, rather than eggs, rolling about beneath his boots. It was an eerie feeling that turned his innards in the most unnatural way. Hurrying onwards, he soon came upon the golden ball.

Stretching out a hand, the Prince picked up the golden ball, only to recoil in horror. Though the ball looked golden, its surface was soft and fleshy. With a sickening, meaty sound, the solid looking ball tore open holes in itself—empty pits of blackness.

The tadpole eggs began to froth, and swarmed to fill the empty holes, rolling up the Prince’s body. Sliding into the golden ball, they appeared to stare outwards in all directions—resembling an eyeball with many eyes hewn into itself.

Then the faux eyes turned towards the Prince, and he found himself transfixed by their gaze, tumbling into the egg filled waters. His hands were now that of a frog. The only thing that remained human were his eyes and his teeth.

Gathering up the golden eyeball, the Frog Prince hopped quickly to the bucket and pulled himself out of the darkness.

The Princess took the eyeball up with a smile, far too many fingers than is right wrapping about the golden globe, which she placed into her empty socket. Then she turned on her heel and whisked herself off with her witchcraft, leaving the Frog Prince alone to ponder.

Some royal gardeners chanced upon the frog, and, seeing it sitting like a human, head in its hands, human eyes gazing out, human teeth chattering as it spoke to itself, they took it to be a demon. After all, it certainly was no frog—likewise, it was no man. With tools in hand, they made to kill the frog, and he was obliged to flee.

A frog’s legs are no match for a human’s long strides, and soon enough, they trapped the frog. However, as they were about to deliver death to the hapless Prince, Faithful Heinrich, recognizing his Master even in his froggy form as all good servants are able to do, snatched up the Prince and fled with him. Together, they set off to break the curse.