"Once upon a time, in midwinter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a queen sat sewing at her window, which had a frame of black ebony wood. As she sewed she looked up at the snow and pricked her finger with her needle. Three drops of blood fell into the snow. The red on the white looked so beautiful that she thought to herself:

*If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in this frame.*

Soon afterward she had a little daughter who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood; therefore they called her Little Snow White. And as soon as the child was born, the queen died."

Have you heard of this story?

The story is about a little princess who grew up without a mother or a father, with just her wicked stepmother that couldn't care less if the girl was dead or alive. And that's how life went until the crone of the castle one day wishfully visited her assistant's office, for it to be telling her that there was a new rival to her beauty which until that night, there had never been. To make matters worse, it was the one and only stepdaughter of the Queen. Just imagine the hatred for that person that only grew with knowing that it was the crone's fault for creating such a beauty.

Every day the same routine continued on, with the Queen purposely avoiding the girl, only so that her heart wouldn't stop from the souring pain that came from just looking at that little child, knowing that such a girl didn't even try but surpassed her with no doubt. But the pain wasn't subdued and it only grew with each day, becoming a spike pursing through the crone's heart, until she couldn't take the suffering anymore.

The girl had a fair childhood; even if she got no one but herself, that was always enough. That thought alone made the little princess smile. Oh, and how that smile was. Brighter than the sun, and as big as the moon, her eyes playfully shining like little stars. But what she didn't know was the stepmother's wish for her to be gone beyond a grey grave, so the girl hadn't much worry when she saw the hunter approach her with murderous intent, but with a sadness in his eyes that would match one of a person sorry for their future actions.

I have no doubt I don't need to explain anything anymore because surely you've caught on.

It's indeed her story, and this is exactly how it started, with a cursed child being born, a girl which will bring everyone around her only misery with her, oh, so beautiful self. You might think you know everything about this story, and now you're probably annoyed at me. I mean who am I to talk to you like that? Well, listen here buddy, and listen well because I am not going to repeat myself. Your version of her story goes like this: the girl is an angel, the queen is a jealous wicked adult with no heart, and the story ends happily ever after with the pretty girl on the throne with her prince and dwarves by her side, and the stepmother dies. Just as I was previously narrating about.

You think it's fair that she got it all, and I just turned to ashes, but the truth was always concealed behind those petty lies. Any story is never as simple as that, like life is never as easy as it sounds. There is always a misunderstanding, something only some people know, and the part that the readers know. Haven't you seen the big gaps between the lines, a word or two missing, or some pages that just disappeared from a book? Of course, you have, after all, libraries aren't as cherished as they used to be in my prime. Back then, only royal castles had libraries. A book was as rare as a white deer is today. It was a mystery covered in fog, a puzzle so difficult to solve you'd waste away trying, and it was my most cherished possession.

But this book, this story, I promise you it won't have any gaps, missing lines, or pages. It will be just the plain old truth. The truth many people will be mad to hear, and I will be most happy to share. The one where I ride my exciting rollercoaster of a past, and where reality equals fantasy, because many things I'll tell you, you won't actually believe.

This isn't your ordinary fairytale, and it isn't little Snow White's fake show either. No, this is my story.

After all, who's better at telling the story than its supposed villain?