Snow White

In 1725, in the small Bavarian town of Lohr am Main, a nobleman’s daughter was born — Maria Sophia Margaretha von Erthal. Her father owned a renowned glassworks that crafted mirrors so pure they seemed almost alive. Locals said they spoke — reflecting not what was before them, but what was true.

Maria’s mother died when she was young. Her father remarried a woman named Claudia Elisabeth von Reichenstein, famed for her vanity and temper. She despised Maria’s innocence — her kindness toward servants, her habit of visiting the miners who toiled in the dark Spessart forest. Those miners were small men, their backs hunched and lungs blackened by dust. Out of gratitude, they gifted Maria gems and metals from the earth.

Then, suddenly, Maria fell ill. Witnesses recalled her lips turning blue, her skin pale as snow. The court physician claimed “food poisoning.” But rumors spread that her stepmother had requested a special mirror days before — one lined with powdered antimony, a deadly toxin that could seep into the air.

Maria was buried in a crystal coffin crafted by her father’s own workers. When it was unearthed decades later, her body had not decayed. Her skin was still white, her lips red. The coffin was sealed again, the church locked.

The Grimm brothers visited Lohr a century later. They heard whispers of the poisoned girl, the murderous stepmother, and the seven miners who tried to save her.

But the locals still say that on moonless nights, a faint reflection shimmers in the old mirror factory — a pale girl’s face, mouthing words you can’t quite hear.

And if you listen too long… you might see her breathe.