Last week I asked for your favourite fairy tales and
Jewles from Frazzled & Frumpy chose one of my favourites. So for this reason (read here writers block and I have something old to re-hash that will work) I will feature her choice today.
No seriously,
Snow White and Rose Red is not one of the more popular fairy tales, yet when
Deb at Kicking Corners set a challenge based on this fairy tale I was hooked.
I read some fairy tales and see all the twists and turns, I see the way things could have worked out after the 'happily ever after', I see the same framework with a modern take or sometimes the whole dynamic in the tale gets flipped on its head and I see a widower not a widow. Sometimes they don't speak to me at all!!
More often than not I get to wondering how this story started, were the village elders trying to warn the younger generation about the dangers in the world? Or did something happen in a village and the story erupted out of that?
Did the family in this tale let in a very hairy stranger to shelter and did one of the daughters fall for this ruggedly handsome man? Has the story developed from such a non-magical beginning? Stories and tales have traditionally been passed down through the generations. Each story teller tweeking the story as it passes through their age. Will people tell our stories in such fanciful ways long after we have gone? Or has the ability to record and reproduce information and stories all but buried this tradition. Our tales doomed to be re-told verbatim time and time again, never to change. And how sad would that be?
Sorry tangent much, sorry! In response to Deb's challenge I attempted a re-write of the tale, and here it is. I hope you enjoy it and if you have read it before (thanks for sticking with me for so long) can you see if I have tweeked my story on the second telling?
Snow White and Rose Red
There was a man and woman who lived on the
outskirts of a vast forest. They lived a simple life in a small cottage; grew
vegetables in their garden, collected fruit from the trees around their house
and kept chickens which dutifully gave them eggs for breakfast every
morning. The woman loved nothing more
than to tend flower garden, especially in summer, when she would hum along with
the bees as they skipped from flower to flower. Her favourite amongst them all
were the roses that guarded the front door. One a deep ruby red and the other
the purest white rose that ever there was. These roses produced beautiful blooms
from the passing of the last frost until the first nip of Jack in the
winter.
Every day
she would cut one bloom from each rose and place them in a vase, taking a moment
to say her silent prayer wishing for a child whom they could shower with love.
Her husband felt the same and wondered year after year why they had yet to be
blessed.
A few years later, when they thought that all hope
was lost, during her usual ritual and silent pray the woman caught her finger on a thorn. Her blood splattered on the crisp snow, the first of the season, at the base of the roses. T hat winter the roses continued to bloom along with the unborn children in her womb. The woman gave birth to beautiful twin girls. But tragedy struck and
she only survived long enough to name her daughters; Snow White, for she had the
palest skin anyone had ever seen and Rose Red, for she had lips as red as the
rose at her door. The man grieved for his soul mate but adapted to his new role
as sole parent well. Every day he continued the tradition of placing to roses,
one white one red, in the vase at the window; saying his silent prayer to his
wife and expressing his gratitude for the girls they had longed to raise
together. Life continued, but from the day of her death the little cottage was
never without roses in the window. They continued to bloom throughout the
winter, defying Jack Frost and his reaches and bringing a smile to the widowers
face, letting him know he was never alone.
His daughters grew to be just as beautiful and
gracious as his wife. Rose Red became a passionate young woman, head strong in
her ways, even in her childhood exploring the forest with reckless abandon. Snow
White was her opposite in almost every way, the quiet and watchful of the
sisters. During their childhood the sisters complimented each other, doting on
their Father and always ensuring their chores were completed before going into
the forest to explore, sharing everything together; they were the dream come to
life.
One evening, as the girls sang in poetic harmony to
their Father, there came a knock at the door. Raising calmly Snow opened the
door to the icy air and was faced with a tall and dark man wearing a brooding
expression.
“May I enter to warm by your fire, the night is so
cold and I will not make it to where I am safe”
“Of course, please sit, I will fetch a blanket”
came Snow’s compassionate response to the figure before her. He was a tall and
well built figure with long dark hair pulled into a leather thong at the nape of
his neck. He stood there in just jeans and shirt sleeves, with ice crystals in
his hair trying fight the convulsions that came with being so cold. As Snow
returned with a thick crocheted blanket Rose moved from her customary spot in
front of the fire to let their mysterious guest sit. Although they were all
curious as to the predicament the stranger found himself in none drew attention
to it, they simply whiled the evening away with anecdotes, laughter and tea.
Eventually came the time when they were all ready to retire to bed, even give
his concerns for his daughter’s safety the Father could not bear to see this man
turned out into the cold and dark of the forest.
As the man rose to bid the family farewell the
Father, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder, said “Please, we have little,
but feel free to sleep by the fire and remain safe and warm for the
evening”
The man was rendered speechless by the family’s
kindness and could simply nod in appreciation.
The following day the sun was shining and it was
beginning to feel like spring was in the air. After spending time helping the
family with the daily chores, the stranger bid the family farewell.
“Will we ever see you again?” Snow asked as they
parted at the garden gate. She was quite taken with this lost soul who had
wandered into their lives.
“May be some day, when you need me, maybe” and with
that he was gone......
I had completely forgotten I hadn't finished this....Hmmm think I will have to revisit this and complete the tale.
Hope that makes you feel a little better Jewels ;-)
