"i used to be Snow White, but i drifted." - Mae West
"it is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty
is goodness."
- Leo
Tolstoy
"a person experiences
life as something separated from the rest –
a kind of optical
delusion of consciousness. our task must
be
to free ourselves
from this self-imposed prison
and through compassion, to find the reality of Oneness."
- Albert Einstein
and through compassion, to find the reality of Oneness."
- Albert Einstein
****************************************************************************
of the sort often surfacing in fiction
whose second wife was a vain and haughty thing
much given to concocting contradiction.
now he wasn't a benevolent monarch
but proponents of exception seldom are.
as privileged patrons of plutocracy go
his malevolence was rather under par.
his overlooked daughter of an unfulfilled heart
gazing at the world through diffident eyes
wore singular skin of an uncanny hue,
very like mayonnaise just after it dies.
in the dark it emitted an eerie glow
and though genetics might have played a factor
most likely it came from eating the produce
grown downwind from a nuclear reactor.
it's said her lips were red as royal rubies
since her overbite was always drawing blood.
and the bloom in her cheeks was likened to a rose
that an early frost has nipped in the bud.
when the powers handed out attributes
the bestowers of beauty must have bypassed her.
for her countenance was compared frequently
with the prospect of impending disaster.
she was prone to pacing the ramparts at night,
a muddied snow pallor lighting up her face
looming like a phantom or will-o'-the-wisp
solacing the sadness that haunted the place.
the sentries attended her sweeping glances.
in her glimmer dozing children flouted fear.
she was christened Sludge White by the town criers,
Princess Pasty by those friends that held her dear.
but the queen could not be counted among them
for she was nursing an astonishing spite
and constantly plotted against the princess
in the disconsolate hours of the night.
poor Pasty seemed to stimulate her envy
though why this was the case was hard to answer.
yet the queen had conjured the green-eyed monster
and it swallowed up her soul like a cancer.
her most treasured possession was a mirror
hosting a waggish, irreverent essence
partial to bouts of ironic reflection,
slinging remarks, and concealing his presence.
obscenely obsessed with smiting competition
she kept him unremittingly on call
to pry on her peers and relentlessly tell her
that she was rated fairest overall.
as this dull repetition grew wearisome
the mischievous mirror had devised a prank.
and when next his thoughts were sought on the standings
Sludge White was ensconced in preeminent rank.
but this thrust Her Highness into a frenzy
for her hubris could tolerate no equal.
and reviewing her notes on Medea's exploits
she set her sights on mounting a sequel.
when the mirror glimpsed this grisly ambition
his sheen glazed over with a shocked pink regret.
for he was loathe to see harm befall Pasty
thus augmenting his prodigious karmic debt.
but alas! his fear of rebuke was too great
for recanting the rashly planted rumour.
while the queen showed scanty sense of proportion
she was entirely bereft of humour.
hence he observed an ambivalent silence
when a woodcutter was summoned to the throne
and compelled to grovel in the pitiless dust
of jarring remorselessness set in stone.
he appeared not to heed the deep-seated need
to fill such a stark, uninhabited part
that triggered the barter of the woodsman's life
for a casket embellished with Sludge White's heart.
and the carpenter was stricken speechless
but dared not disobey an overlord's demands.
for cruelty is ever the first resort
in Christendom's clique of self-preserving lands.
so he blindly stumbled into the forest,
a condemned accomplice, untethered from hope
shrinking from the trusting hand of the princess
as though he was shying from the hangman's rope.
racking his brain in a bruising torment,
reeling from instructions he couldn't even say
he searched for a miracle to save both their hearts
from this brutal, unendurable day.
it was then that unseen powers stepped in,
altering events in their elemental guise.
for Pasty caught wind of unexpressed death
twisted in the panic that was fleeing his eyes.
the forest hushed, as if gathering breath.
then it raised a lament like a reticent sigh.
and she took to her heels with all of her might,
skimming the surface and appearing to fly.
and the trees clasped branches once she passed them.
and shadows descended to cloak her path from sight.
and the trembling woodsman fell to his knees,
sobbing whilst abandon settled in with the night.
Sludge White touched down in a patch of mushrooms
of psychedelic hue and a staggering size
just as the dusk secured her seclusion,
draping its veil over periwinkle skies.
cedars and willows were rallied around her
in an endless caress of gently linked arms.
and silvery vines dangled sapphire bells,
jingling in the breezes like musical charms.
a medley of mammals soon flocked to her side,
bringing comfort to the palisaded keep.
and they mounted a vigil to fend off harm
while serenading crickets lulled her to sleep.
when morning came and streaked the sky with amber
inquisitive nudgings brushed against her cheek.
and she breakfasted on pine nuts and berries
harvested by paws and carried in a beak.
following a dazzle to a babbling brook
she imbibed its joyful effervescence
enfolding herself in the roots of an oak,
in the shade of its penetrating presence.
insightful impressions welled up to the surface
as she fathomed her lamentable plight,
pondering the queen's fell machinations
and the hazy dynamics of magical flight.
that Her Grace's hatred had sprouted arms and legs
was a painful development to face.
yet the singular help from the elements
cast a novel ray of light upon the case.
returning to her father's frosty castle
was without a doubt an injudicious course.
so she opted for staying right where she was,
throwing in her lot with the mystical force.
hitherto unversed in selfless intent
she was eager to bond with her unforeseen friends
readily treading this untested terrain,
exploring its depths with a groundbreaking lens.
since the forest seemed bent on protecting her
she decided to leave planning up to chance
and aimlessly strolled through the wakening woods,
savoring the rising sun's slant, dappled glance.
flowers fell open at her feet as she walked
and she noticed she was understanding birds,
their snatches of song a liquid lightning
expressing a longing unburdened with words.
she could feel deer converging behind her
for a well of empathy had made itself known,
a timeless attachment dispensing with space
in cognitive lodgings sewn in with her own.
at this juncture she stumbled on a cottage
appearing abruptly, as if from thin air
with a tumbledown roof and receding gables,
a study in despairing disrepair.
the sagging, swaying siding was sidling away
and the disgruntled windows were agape,
their shattered shutters dangling from their hinges
as though they'd collapsed while trying to escape.
the overgrown path was sinking in quicksand,
its flagstones settling in a miasmic berth.
fragments of a chimney, partially interred
had been spit back out by the disgusted earth.
a stony bed of thorns served for a garden
while a brackish fetid puddle formed a pool.
the yard was littered with polka dot scraps
like the last remains of a detonated fool.
the weather-beaten door had been left open
and a rabbit had already hopped inside
to see if the house held sadder disasters
its sense of decorum was trying to hide.
as Pasty ventured in her diffident escort
fringed the sills with rows of sniffing noses
anxiously watching their human companion
parting the dust clouds as if she was Moses.
a petulant hat rack ambushed the entry
brandishing left hooks and spoiling for a fight.
the faded portrait had gone off its likeness,
to judge by the way it was howling in fright.
billowing cobwebs flaunted from the ceiling.
jagged bloody nails protruded from the floor.
an ear-splitting squawk simply wouldn't let up,
seeming to stem from some tortured upstairs door.
broken dishes were scattered on the staircase
as the dumbwaiter turned out to be a mime.
and the hours sped by, or dragged on and on,
since the clock was telling lies instead of time.
clinging vines wedged in through broken windows
had reconciled themselves to temperamental light
and swung from the rafters with abandon,
appending tendrils to whomever came in sight.
though the yarn was lax, aimlessly unravelling,
the spinning wheel was prickly and nettled.
the atmosphere was fraught with the odd little sounds
one hears when a house becomes unsettled.
while the sloping walls were inclined to crack up
their moldings seemed content to simply moulder.
and the laws of science had gone off the rails
for the air inside just kept getting colder.
the tchotchkes on the mantelpiece were dismal.
and the capsized bottled ship had sprung a leak.
seven smoldering pipes were stacked on a rack
steadily emitting an unearthy reek.
a misshapen beast snoozed in the fireplace
giving vent to yelps, and stomach-churning snores.
a rattled skeleton clung to the closet
unhinged by the doorbells' spine-tingling roars.
the bearskin rug was hooked on wrestling
stalking pedestrians who dawdled in the hall.
a bygone stove probably exploded
as a charred silhouette was splattered on the wall.
tiles still trickled in a yawning crevice
divulging a dank, disconcerting cellar.
the distorted and conflicted cutlery
had surely been abused by Uri Geller.
a pair of swishing knives were swiping the air,
enthralled in a gripping, swashbuckling duel
under a ceiling peeling and congealing
with a gut-wrenching, foul-smelling gruel.
while the toppling embankment of filth-laden plates
teetered on its rank, precipitous brink,
whatever was crawling in the pantry
was hardly an antidote for repugnant stink.
the princess resolved to confront the frightful mess
finding the task impossible to shirk
and thinking there ought to be fewer locations
in which such dubious things thought to lurk.
her four-legged posse pitched in at once
nurturing by nature and benignly inclined
seeming to dance in synchronized motion,
a symptom of borders becoming undefined.
squads of birds flew in and out the windows
in swift, deft movements precluding indecision
darting and flashing in breathtaking arcs,
a kaleidoscope of finely judged precision.
they hustled and bustled back and forth all day
with the throbbing pulse of a subway station,
scavenging cobwebs to soften up their nests
and ticking off the spider population.
a badger coaxed the sleepy beast to vacate,
removing snarled burrs enmeshed in his coat.
then the squirrels rid the rest of the chimney
of the hazardous buildup of creosote.
the rug was incited to tackle the hat rack
resulting in a frenzied, seething tiff.
while they were scuffling they were stashed in a sack
and dragged to the edge of a neighboring cliff.
the ear-splitting squawk belonged to a banshee
gone out of her mind since she couldn't find work.
Sludge White suggested the palace for a haunt,
with a windswept graveyard thrown in as a perk.
as the skeleton could reassemble himself
sleight of hand made him harder to dislodge.
but he split when a raccoon scrambled his bones,
thoroughly persuaded to get out of Dodge.
the dumbwaiter thought better of theatrics
and the clock expressed remorse for having lied.
the vines bought rumours of a spurious blight
and promptly transplanted themselves back outside.
the bloody nails were gingerly extracted,
the missing bits of kitchen floor retiled.
while the cutlery's core issues got hammered out
the floating fencing knives were reconciled.
the clattering platters were finally washed
though it took quite a hodgepodge of paws to do
and provoked a series of avalanches
that skinned the shin of a towel-drying shrew.
the idle threads were spooled onto bobbins
and nimbly settled on the nettled spinning wheel.
the slop that had slipped from the bottle was mopped
and the ship was equipped with a brand new keel.
the crumbling walls were propped up and painted
in bright warm colors that delighted tired eyes,
chasing muted shadows from their wonted nooks
and encouraging the temperature to rise.
the portrait was touched up by a porcupine
tickling its fancy and hindering howling
subverting The Scream with the Mona Lisa,
a dash of giggles besmirching the scowling.
a wren taught the door-bell a whimsical trill
gleaned from the whistle of a wandering bard.
the godawful gruel was scraped off the ceiling,
sprayed by a skunk, and buried in the yard.
the crawling enigma remained unresolved
when the pantry unbolted its musty air.
no one could prove it ever existed
but no one believed it was never really there.
a sinister assortment of slinking things
were fettered together and carted away,
entrusted to a band of mendicant monks
who held exorcisms every other day.
the hapless cottage had been boldly rescued
from its freakish preternatural crisis.
but the bone-chilling cellar was boarded up
and left to its disquieting devices.
the animals returned to their woodsy dens
to forage for dinner and rest until dawn
except for a lingering spectacled otter
frisking with his friend, a freckle-flecked fawn.
the birds made their roosts in the neighboring trees
with fretful twitters and cacophonous cheeps,
incessantly settling their favored perches
while Sludge White slipped into the deepest of sleeps.
the primal mantle devoured the cottage
erasing the fleeting distinctions of form.
the chorus of insects wavered in waves
like patterns of rain in the currents of a storm.
the penitent clock told the ticking tale
of the untended moments of unheeded time.
and a discarded heart lay soundly sleeping,
her garments in tatters, her face smudged with grime.
faint embers popped up in a muted succession,
scattering glimmer on emerald leaves
spilling luminescence in delicate streams
filtered through windows beneath the dusky eaves.
the princess abruptly flashed open her eyes
and frantically scoured the star-glistened gloom
for it dawned on her that those whispers were real
and surely rustling in that very room.
"sleeping!" hissed a voice. "of all the brazen cheek!
and what in blazes has happened to the place?
how could the watchrug and battlerack vanish?
it's not in their nature to not leave a trace."
"keep your voice down!" urged a lilting undertone.
"she's most likely some relation of the king's.
that frock she's wearin' cost more than you can count!
i fancy her bleedin' 'orse has gilded wings!"
"easy now, Mock!" said a dulcet companion.
"that wretched dress is coming apart in strands.
imagine what the poor dear must have gone through
before the fates placed her safely in our hands!"
"oh, stuff a sock in it!" the first voice snarled.
"she's one of them, Sappy. why else would she glow?
no doubt the king's soldiers are combing the forest.
when they find us, you'll be the first to go!"
soft sounds of sobbing emerged from the shadows.
"there's subtlety for you." said the one called Mock.
"our Rashful's in a class on 'is ownsome.
'e dices apples with an anvil and a rock."
"watch it, brother Mock, you're treading on thin ice!"
Rashful retorted with a tongue edged in steel
bloating the air with menacing tension,
a blustering infection bubbling on a heel.
a stifled gasp cut the conflict in its tracks
and seven hooded heads turned with one accord.
Sludge White was riveted by attention
their focus combining to forge an optic sword.
she breathed in slowly, while gathering her wits
trusting that the deer would somehow keep her calm.
for the well of empathy bided with her
providing unspoken, reassuring balm.
Sappy was the first to sever the silence.
"since she's awake we may as well have some light."
then orange flames flickered and danced on the walls
and the contents of the room loomed into sight.
Pasty's eerie day spent inside the cottage
had depleted her supply of startled cries.
so when it turned out the candles were self-starting,
she didn't even register surprise.
"what are you doing here?" Rashful bludgeoned the point,
shedding more luster on his blunted charm.
"i'm fleeing from the queen's wrath" was her answer.
"by my oath i didn't mean you any harm."
"and why would 'er precious self not fancy you?
'as 'er Majesty been blinded by your glare?"
Mock was not disposed to cut her any slack
as he hardened his brow with an ice-bound stare.
she swallowed back her timid trepidation.
"i've no clue why a price was placed on my head.
yet the wind and these woods interceded.
were it not for their shelter i'd likely be dead."
there was something compelling in this statement,
earnestly exposing her perilous case.
Sappy's heart was opened immediately
and a thaw trickled down Mock's cold flinty face.
"but how did our cottage come to look like this?"
Rashful proceeded with his obdurate air.
behind him two others gradually emerged.
there was something not quite right about the pair.
the hands of the first one never stopped probing
the personal space of whoever was near.
the other had oil oozing from his pores
and suggested something naughty with his leer.
"sit down my dear, and tell us all about it"
said Sappy politely, pointing at the couch.
"please don't mind Rashful, or let him offend you.
he can't help himself, he's a natural grouch."
at this Rashful bridled and folded his arms
scrunching his face in a glowering scowl.
as the others took seats in the candlelight
rueful reproaches were broached by an owl.
versed in her father's political parlance
of splintered nuance and manifold meanings
the princess designed a diplomatic pitch
to provoke the most lenient of leanings.
the scent of her mother seeping recollection
spilled from a quiver, deep within the well
underpinning her pressing entreaty
with the loving embrace of a lingering spell.
"bewildered by your savvy appliances
and dismayed by their animated defense
we sought to diminish the presence of threats
thereby committing unintended offense.
when we first encountered your charming cottage
we overlooked the potential of tenants.
thus my friends and i humbly beseech you, kind sirs,
to accept our regrets and our penance."
at the close of her speech she lowered her head,
somberly waiting for her hosts to respond.
the one who'd been crying had never let up
and now he was sopped in a slough of despond.
Sappy squeezed tears from his dripping handkerchief
and winking at the princess, passed him a pail.
"but my dear you haven't introduced yourself!
what is your name, child, and from whence do you hail?"
"i'm called Sludge White. i was sired by the king
and kept in the keep of his castle since birth.
my mother, his first wife, long since departed
the veil of illusion that fetters the earth."
this news gave the room an electrical jolt
wiring its currents with overwrought thought.
seven pairs of eyes swapped eloquent glances
fraught with furtive drifts, surreptitiously caught.
Mock rose to his feet and doffed his yellow hood
a crimson blush suggesting he was bashful.
"this chatty chappie's Sappy. i go by Mock.
and i dare say you're acquainted with Rashful."
Sappy presented a splendid courtly bow
while Rashful let slip a perfunctory nod.
"this one wailin' in 'is pail we call Weepy
a sodden and soggy, saturated sod.
that's Sleazy in the corner next to Gropey,
who'd better watch out, or 'e'll wind up stumpy.
the bloke what's leanin' on the back of the couch
is the shapeless wonder our lot calls Lumpy."
"i'm pleased to meet you" said Weepy with a smile
as he wistfully wiped his blubbering eyes.
how he managed a supply of fresh hankies
or kept his clothes dry, one can only surmise.
Sleazy's wrinkles crinkled in a wanton wink.
Gropey hid his hands with indelicate haste.
a form-challenged fellow quite covered in bumps
did his best to bend an improbable waist.
Pasty curtsied to each one in succession,
deftly evading Gropey's dexterous hands
then attempted an armistice with Rashful
by plucking on a string from overheard strands.
"not meaning to eavesdrop i happened to note
your concern for your watchrug and battlerack.
i believe my friends could help you retrieve them
from the cleft of a cliff, ensconced in a sack."
Rashful's jaw dropped and he might have been nasty
but happily Sappy said something instead.
"there'll be time enough for all that in the morning.
it's awfully late, we ought to be abed.
we'll push two or three of ours together, love.
this couch has an off-putting reputation.
on the morrow we'll build you a four-poster
and assemble a cliff-bound deputation."
so with stretches and yawns they mounted the stairs
and the flickering candles promptly went out.
and the skulking rat in the pay of the queen
stealthily slinked up the slanted gutter spout.
then the crickets lost interest in their love songs.
and the glitter faded from the starlight's beams.
and the deepest dark that comes just before dawn
descended on the sleepers, dimming their dreams.
far away in a dank, forsaken cellar
a rapacious monarch reposed on her throne
absently probing the reticent distance,
her reflection glaring back with eyes of stone.
to her oft-repeated ravenous queries
the mirror conjured a brooding, opaque mist
rendering naught but inscrutable silence
to appease the rampant menace of her fist.
*
[here endeth the verse of chapter the first.]
*
- Evan Hawthorn, the 9th of September, 2018
["Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons" was completed on 10/16/2017.]
