Snow White and the Power of Light

By Charlie Wood

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the most powerful sorceress of them all?"

That is the question Queen Victoria has asked her mirror every morning, and every morning, the answer has been the same: "You are, my Queen."

However, that answer changes when 18-year-old Snow White moves into the kingdom. Why? Snow White has the mysterious ability to make the images in a painting move and come alive, as if they are a window into another time.

Now, hunted by the Queen because of powers she doesn't understand, Snow White must leave her family and escape into the mysterious forest surrounding the kingdom. Her only hope? Seven strange, small men living in the middle of nowhere, who have secluded themselves from the rest of Elsentree...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie Wood
• Release date: Jan 11, 2022

Charlie Wood

Charlie Wood lives with his wife, Kate, in Massachusetts. He enjoys movies, baseball, and comic books. This is his first novel.

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Snow White

and the

Power of Light

Charlie Wood

Copyright © 2019 Charlie Wood

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. Inspired by the fairy tale Snow White by The Brothers Grimm.

Inspired by the fairy tale Snow White by the Brothers Grimm.

To contact the author:

[e-mail]

www.charliewood24.blogspot.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Also by Charlie Wood

About the Author

Chapter One

For the few people who truly knew her, it was strange to see a woman so powerful be so completely reliant on her routine. Yet, every morning, it was the same: Queen Victoria of Elsentree would wake up, put on her maroon-and-gold robe, and enter the stone-walled chamber behind her sleeping quarters. There, she would walk past the table lined with her potion bottles and stand in front of the room’s most prominent feature: the glistening, floor-to-ceiling, gold-framed mirror that took up the entire back wall. As the glass inside began to pulse with a faint blue light, the Queen would wait to see the one person she needed to see to start her day.

After a shimmer of light spread across the glass, the dark, barren forest of the mirror world would appear—with its gnarled, lifeless trees and black briar bushes—followed by Bartleby himself. He was more of a suggestion than a man, with a six-foot-tall body made of nothing but shifting blue smoke and a face that was simply a vague impression of eyes, nose, and a mouth. Every morning, the man from the mirror would step through the fog, stand on his side of the glass, and wait for the question he knew was coming. It was the same question he had heard every morning for the past three years.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, the Queen would say, who is the most powerful sorceress of them all?

Every day, the answer was the same: You, my Queen. Only you can rule Elsentree. But, on this day, on the day our story begins, the Queen heard a different reply.

There is someone new, my Queen.

Unsurprisingly, the Queen barely reacted, as she always strove to give off an air of poise and grace. She simply cocked her head to one side, biting her upper lip.

Who, Bartleby? Is it someone within the kingdom?

No, my Queen, she is not here yet. But she is approaching, in a horse-drawn wagon to the south. She is with her mother, father, and brother. She is eighteen years old. Like most people her age, she does not yet know the power she possesses.

What is her name?

Snow White. Her father named her after their homeland, which is covered in an eternal winter. She’s come a great distance to live in Elsentree with her family.

You say she’s more powerful than me?

Not yet, my Queen, but she will be. With the Power of Light, she will be the most powerful sorceress of them all.

The Queen held her hand against her mouth, her fingers curled into a ball. Does she know what she’s about to face? Does she know who I am?

No. She is not yet aware of the challenges in front of her. At the moment, she is filled with hope.

***

As her family’s horse-drawn wagon arrived in the town square of Elsentree, Snow White leaned out the window and looked up at the brick buildings, beautiful homes, and maple trees all around her. While it was true she was going to miss her old life and friends back in her hometown of Carroway, to see her new village in the morning sun, with all the hustle and bustle of the townspeople going about their daily lives, she couldn’t help but be excited.

All right, whoa, her father said, pulling on the reins of their horse. Here we are, everyone: the main town square of Elsentree. What’d I tell you—it’s only a short ride from our new home.

Yeah, pretty sweet, Snow White’s brother, Carmen, said, as he stepped out of the wagon. He was a short, blonde kid, newly fifteen years old. Looks like a nice place. Lots of new people. He watched a young lady walk past, carrying a basket of groceries. She looked at him and smiled. "Lots of really interesting new people."

Snow White stepped off the wagon next. My god, you’re like a caveman, you know that? You’re prehistoric.

Yeah, that’s right, I am a caveman, and I’m finally getting out of the ice age. Gimme a break, the only people I’ve seen until this point in my life have all been dressed like polar bears.

Snow White laughed and looked around the square. Well, it’s definitely different than our old town, that’s for sure. Is the new bakery nearby, Dad?

He checked a piece of paper from his pocket. Yup, it’s right up there. My new boss said it was in the center of the square, and he was right. I’ll go tell him I’m here for my first day—I don’t wanna be late.

Yeah, don’t get fired, Carmen said. He raised his face toward the sun and closed his eyes. I don’t wanna havta move again. I’m already digging living in a place where it doesn’t feel like my nose is constantly gonna fall off.

I’ll do my best, Snow White’s father laughed. He looked to Snow White’s mom. Do you wanna come to the bakery and meet everyone, honey?

Yeah, I’ll come by in a bit, she replied. Like Snow White, she had long, jet-black hair and very fair skin. I’m gonna poke around a little first, see what I can find for the new house. Plus I wanna check at the boutique to see if they’re hiring seamstresses.

How about you two? Snow White’s father looked to her and Carmen. Are you gonna stay here in town?

Yeah, Carmen said. I wanna look around, see what’s going on.

Me too, Snow White replied. I saw a theatre back where we drove in, maybe they have some new shows coming up or something.

Okay, Snow White’s father said, since it’s clear everyone’s ready to start spending all of our money, I better get to work. He patted the family’s horse and walked off. I’ll see you all later tonight. Have fun, everyone.

Bye, Dad.

See you soon.

Turning around, Snow White watched her father walk off toward the bakery, then watched her mother walk in the opposite direction, toward the boutique. When her parents were gone, it was just her and Carmen in the square, surrounded by the townspeople.

So, Carmen said, his eyebrows raised, are you ready? Lotta people around here. Lotta people ready to see something new.

I guess, Snow White laughed, shaking her head. But you heard Mom and Dad this morning: they want us to wait a few days before we set up. They don’t even know we brought all this stuff with us.

Carmen waved her off. Oh, come on. You know they need a little help bringing in money. They’ll be thrilled. Probably.

Okay, if you say so. Snow White stepped to the side of the wagon and pulled on a rope. But if they come back and catch us, I’m telling them it was your idea.

When Snow White let go of the rope, the sheet on the side of the wagon flipped open like a window shade, revealing the inside. There was a painter’s easel set up, ready for its artist and on display, along with jars of paints and paintbrushes of all sizes.

Rubbing his hands together, Carmen reached into the wagon and began hanging paintings on hooks; soon, eight colorful canvasses dangled from the roof, all of them showing animals in their home environments: a horse on a ranch, a lion in the savanna, and a polar bear in the snow, among others. The images popped with color, their subjects contrasting with their detailed backgrounds.

All right, everybody, Carmen said, turning around and holding a pointer. Step right up and see something you’ve never seen before. That may sound like a wild claim—a claim you have heard many times—but I guarantee you, this time it’s true. You have never seen anything like the images created by my sister, the great artist, Snow White.

The townspeople stopped and looked to the wagon, interested to hear the barking of a new salesman in town. People would often show up in Elsentree to sell inventions or homemade remedies, but they usually didn’t look like they were only a few days removed from junior high. As Carmen continued his pitch, with all the smoothness and charm of someone who had been doing this for decades, the people gathered around, entertained by the sight of this 15-year-old showman.

Yes, indeed, Carmen said. Your eyes will be amazed at the magic created by my sister, Snow White, an artist unlike any other. There’s only one of her in the world, folks, and now you get the opportunity to take one of her paintings home. Years from now, when you’re old and rich, your friends will say, ’Wow—you have one of the very first paintings created by the world-famous artist, Snow White.’ If you take my advice, folks, you’ll be able to say you were there at the very beginning.

As more people wandered over to the wagon, Snow White nervously rolled one of her paintbrushes in her hand, the smile on her face shrinking. Her brother was great at the hype, that was for sure, but now it was almost time for her to do her part. She and Carmen had done this several times before—at least a dozen, back in their hometown—yet she was never sure how the people would react to her magic.

These are yours? an old woman asked, pointing to the painting of the lion.

Yes, Snow White said. I’ve been painting since I was a kid, but it’s only recently that I’ve begun to display them.

Oh, very nice.

Big deal, a heavy-set man said with a snort. He was holding a leash attached to a chubby, grey bulldog, and the dog snorted too, as if agreeing with his master. They’re not bad, but they look like regular, old paintings to me. You gotta calm down there on your pitch, kid.

Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, sir. Carmen stepped toward the man. What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?

Howard.

Okay there, Howard, if my sister creates a painting, and it’s unlike anything you have ever seen, will you apologize to me, and in the form of that apology, give me twenty bucks?

Twenty dollars? Sure. And if I’m not impressed?

Then the painting is yours, for free, to do with as you please. Hang it up, use it as a doorstop, let your dog sleep on it, whatever.

The crowd laughed.

Okay, Howard said. Twenty bucks, you got it.

Carmen turned to Snow White. All right, sis. Have at it. It’s showtime.

Sure. She looked to Howard, nervous. What would you like me to paint, sir?

How about my boy Bruce here? Howard said, tugging on his dog’s leash. Bruce looked up, his tongue happily hanging from his mouth. Bruce is a very attractive subject.

Okay, Snow White laughed. Bruce it is. She studied the dog a moment, then got to work, dipping her brush in a blue-ish gray paint to match Bruce’s fur. She glided it across the canvass, like a boat sailing on a wave, and after only a few simple strokes, the crowd began to see Bruce taking shape.

There he is, Howard said. There’s my Bruce. Looking good. He threw Bruce a biscuit and he gobbled it up with a bark. The crowd laughed.

Snow White chuckled, too, as she continued to paint. With her hands switching from brush to brush, plucking them up from the wooden cups in front of her without even looking at them, she soon entered what her and Carmen had jokingly begun calling The Other Place. It happened every time she painted, and it happened again that day in the town square: the people faded away, the buildings faded away, the trees faded away, even Carmen faded away, and soon Snow White was alone. In those strange, brief, freeing moments, the only things that existed were her hands, the paints, and the canvass.

Impressed with her work, the crowd watched as Snow White finished Bruce and moved on to the scenery behind him. She chose the Elsentree town square, since that’s where Bruce was now, and painted him sitting on the sidewalk, looking up at a piece of meat in the butcher shop window. The crowd laughed as Snow White added a few drops of drool dripping off of his tongue.

Then, just as she was adding some details to the cobblestone street and the butcher shop sign, Snow White felt herself leaving The Other Place, and she knew that meant she was finished. As the people, sounds, and smells of the town square returned, she put her paintbrush back in its cup, turned to the crowd, and raised her hand to the painting, smiling. The crowd clapped politely.

Very nice, the old woman said. It looks just like him.

Howard shrugged. It’s all right. I like it, but it’s not like blowing my mind or anything.

Oh, just wait, Carmen said. My sister’s not finished yet. Our wager depends on the entirety of the work—the full picture, if you will. She hasn’t added the finishing touches.

She hasn’t?

Nope. Carmen turned to his sister. Go ahead, Snow White. Show them. Show them the Power of Light.

The crowd leaned forward, eager to learn the meaning of Carmen’s words. Snow White looked at them, then quickly turned back to her painting, surprised at how many people had gathered. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax and make the butterflies in her stomach go away. She knew the trick would work—it always worked—yet she still got so nervous, every time. She wasn’t sure why. It was probably the crowd’s reaction. Sometimes it could be so strong—so full of emotion—that it was startling, even to her and Carmen.

Calming down, Snow White stood in front of the painting, with her eyes closed, her back to the audience. The townspeople thought she was maybe going to pick up a brush and add some more details to her work, but she didn’t. Instead, she raised her empty right hand, opened it, and held it toward the easel, her fingers spread out. With her palm facing the painting, she focused, breathing in deeply.

Suddenly, a ball of white light grew in the center of her palm, the size of a golf ball, swirling and rolling, glowing brighter. The people in the square gasped. The ball of light grew until the energy from it began to flare out, in between her fingers like a burning star, as she opened and closed her hand. Perhaps even more surprising than the glow was the sound the ball made; it emanated a low humming, like the wings of a bumblebee. Then, without warning, the ball of light burst from Snow White’s hand and flew outward, causing the crowd to jump back, startled.

The ball crashed into the easel, immediately exploding and spreading across the painting, its white