Written in response to one of Chuck Wendig’s awesome flash prompt comps, it didn’t win but I still like it and, one of these days, I’ll flesh it out and show the world behind the vignette:
‘Skin white as snowdrops. Crow-black hair. Blood-red lips.’ She recites the litany as she brushes. Stroke after stroke the words fill her, bitter as poison.
She piles lustrous blonde locks to a pompadour. Fetches the powder. Her hands shake. Bone-deep fury.
‘Mirror, mirror,’ she snaps. ‘Liar, liar.’
Blonde fades to ashen white. Powder hazes the air, fills her lungs. It burns, white fire, hot needles. She chokes, and fire becomes constriction, suffocation.
Footsteps echo across marble. Snowdrop-pale skin reflects in the mirror. Soft fingers caress her cheek.
A blood-red mouth by her ear whispers, ‘Who’s the fairest of them all?’
© Ren Warom 2011