Lips as red as blood.
Skin as white as snow.
 And hair as black as a raven.
One fairytale comes to mind.
A fairytale that involves a mirror.
An apple painted black, as dark as a mother’s heart.
Snow White, Snow White. Dear, dear, Snow White.

Didn’t your mother tell you, not to follow in her footsteps?
Didn’t she tell you not to look? To not even peep?
Now, see what you’ve become?
Now, look  what your mother’s mirror has done.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?” a voice so sweet, so innocent asked a glimmering mirror bordered by gold shaped like roses.
She had heard her mother ask the mirror that question numerous times. But, only silence followed the sound of her voice.
All that appeared in the mirror was the reflection of a little girl with beautiful eyes, porcelain white skin and ebony hair arranged in ringlets falling down the side of her face.
She began to whistle a slow song, expectant of something happening, but still silence.
“You must be broken, huh?” she asked, her cute little head bobbing to the corner. 
She reached out to touch the cold surface of the glass and a tingling sensation pulsated across her skin. Which abruptly ended when her mother yanked her hand back.
“Didn’t I tell you to never come near MY MIRROR?!!! Her mother thundered, she stepped back afraid of her and began running away.
“SNOW WHITE COME BACK HERE!!” she heard her mother yell but she was far away so far away.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?” the voice of a bubbly child rang throughout the old stuffed attic. She was staring at an antique mirror with faded gold roses framing its once crystal form.
She tilted her head to the side, while waiting for the mirror to reply to her question. But, nothing happened prompting the young girl facing the mirror to cross her arms over her chest. A cute pout forming in her angelic face. She resembles all the girls that had faced this mirror for almost millennia but unlike her predecessors, she had brown hair instead of ebony. She wore a silk ruffled turtleneck dress crafted by her mommy, but her hair was not arranged in ringlets but tied in two fluffy ponytails at both sides of her face.

“Something must be wrong,” she told herself as she looked at the unresponsive mirror. “Mommy said that this is the Evil Queen’s mirror, and that magic mirror always replies!” she said as she pulled on  one of her ponytails.
“Hmm, maybe I need to be specific,” she concluded. 
‘I’m gonna give it another try,” she said and stared at the mirror once more before beginning another question. 
“Old mirror, on the wall. Who is the prettiest of them all?” that doesn’t sound right, she thought to herself.
“Antique mirror leaning on the box of my Daddy’s old boxers. Who is the most beautiful of them all?” she happily asked.
Still no reply.
“Huh, you must be broken or you are not a magic mirror at all?” she stated, pouting. She turned her back on the mirror but before she could totally leave. An idea came into her mind and she ran back in front of the mirror. A mischievous smile plastered on her face. 
“Since you can’t see me anyway.” She said giggling then ab