Snow White and the Ageless Fountain of Youth

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder—or so they say. Most women would crawl under a knife to look this good, but not Snow White. Snow had a natural aura around her and a personality to match. Being a Princess—many assumed her life would be glitter and sunshine, rainbows and rows of suitors. But it was not. Snow spent her days scrolling, watching countless videos on women prettier than her bleaching their skin in order to be the fairest in the land, dying their hair to the latest set of trends, filling their lips with plumpers and cinching their waists. All the while, Snow’s skin was of the finest porcelain, her hair the darkest night and her eyes bewitching clouds of cerulean jade. She was in a word, stunning. No one else in the Realm had a beauty that matched her own—and yet, there was something secret Snow kept inside. A lull, dull ache. The desire to be normal. Snow didn’t think her beauty was as beautiful as anyone else’s. She couldn’t understand why she was still single at the blossoming age of thirty when all those around her were finding their soul-mates and having children.

“Oh, my dear, you are too pretty, too beautiful for just anyone, the right person will come along…we see how beautiful and kind you are. They will see it too. Don’t fall for any of those gimmicks…I beg of you.”

Snow ignored the growing twinge as one of the dwarves—Doc tried his hardest to make Snow smile. It wasn’t easy, all the mounting pressure from her family and friends to find a suitor—any suitor. All the while, even more pressure to be beautiful, and not just any kind of beauty would do. It didn’t help that Charmington had evolved into a contemporary Kingdom—a realm where all things glamor and beauty came at a cost, one oftentimes deadly. Standards of this time were dictated by social media filters and age-defying technology. Most women weren’t living long due to surgery complications and dire set-backs, all in the name of looking the best. After-all, if you look the best, you attract the best.

Snow, tired of toiling around day and night waiting for her Prince to appear began to take to the big-screen. Maybe then her Prince would find her as she flooded the timelines of local townsfolk with reels of the Dwarves Secret Mines. Precious rubies, sapphires, diamonds and emeralds all glittering like gold against the rock quarries seemed to pique curiosities. It was a place few could go, and for once being a Princess had its perks—and with it came a loyal following. Overnight, thousands of comments fluttered across her screen, popping up, eagerly awaiting her response. Day in, day out, the same fawning messages— “oh how radiant you look today”, “you must have so many followers, so many men messaging you. How lucky you are…”

It grew tiring for the young Princess. But, within a few days—a new topic seemed to be trending, capturing her attention. Whispers of a mythical fountain of youth appeared on her phone—tagging her—a mysterious profile—Snowanon Charming was at the helm of these peculiar messages. Hash-tags and Links to dozens of sites exploring this strange marvel.

“Remnants of what is thought to be a two-thousand-year-old fountain was uncovered today at the end of the Mine Quarry where the tunnels end, caving into a cavernous galley of godly expanse. Here is where we believe the rumored Fountain of Youth lies. Oftentimes known as the Ocean of Revival, the Trapped Waters of Troubled Minds, the Abyss of Tsunatria—or rather, the Old Woman who Lived by the Sea. She is dusty, dry and bone-chillingly quiet. Surprisingly, not a drip of water appears to have blessed this basin. It is a wonder how this place ever could have been touched by the immortality of youth.”

Snow White’s spirits swelled, her eyes filled with that ravenous nerve. She had to go to the quarries and see if this was true—an ambrosia that kept mere mortals young and beautiful.

“Snow…my dearest girl. You are born from the lot of a velveteen rose, intertwined with the salt of the sea and all it’s glorious waters. Touched by the dew of trees and the mallow of roots, tempted by the rain and the snow and the sun. Please don’t follow these strangers’ ways, their tides mean you no good…”

Doc had tried to keep Snow away from the quarries since this most recent bit of news hit the airwaves but it was no use. Snow was determined to see this discovery through.

“I promise I won’t wander too far,” Snow whispered, tucking her phone into the pocket of her dress—hitting send on the final series of messages between herself and this Snowanon Charming.

“IF that’s even his name…” Grumpy mused, a bit of dreary skepticism drooping from his otherwise frumpy face— “and he asked you to meet him there, in the quarries. It isn’t a safe place…not for you, or me, or anyone really. The news made such a mess of everything.”

“We can accompany you,” Happy added, quite happily at the idea of everyone getting together to go into the woods— “it will be like old times…”

“No, no, I can go, make a short day-trip of it,” Snow replied rather quickly.

“Just a small trip into the mines, past the river, the old cottages and out to the farthest, deepest part.”

“I guess it’s settled,” Sleepy whispered, readying himself for bed. His eyes heavier than usual—” Snow can handle herself. Besides, we can always go out to the cottages if need be and wait.”

“How bad could it be,” Snow replied, setting about for the day ahead.

Three hours later, the messages on her phone had stopped. There was no signal to be found this far into the mountainside. Woods and forest-creatures be damned. Snow, familiar with these woods, kept onward.

“This should be it,” Snow whispered, stepping out towards a clearing where a singular woman stood, quietly waiting.

“Did you want to go inside, to see where the fountain lies?” the woman hissed. Her back still to Snow.

Snow gave a nervous smile, now wishing she’d let the guys tag along— “Snowanon Charming?”

The woman was much older upon first glance than Snow expected. What could she possibly know about a fountain of youth? Her skin, though less wrinkled than it should have been, was still aged. Having seen the settings of a thousand suns. A wiry, spry grin lining the woman’s lips as she swayed antsily in a heavy black cloak.

“Who’d you think would be here? In this age of technological advances and instantaneous delivery. The world is at your fingertips my dear. You wouldn’t have come if some old lady had messaged you, now would you?”

Snow thought about it—and the woman was right—“I am interested in the fountain…” she replied rather curtly.

“You don’t sound so sure of yourself. In this world you have to be certain, the most certain. Once you step foot beyond this clearing there is no turning back. You have to know your worth, your value and your own inner-beauty. In a world where one obsesses with their own image, idolizing themselves above others, seeking approval, perfection and connection in all the wrong places…what makes you any better, any different? What about you deserves to step foot in the fountain of youth? What if I told you this apple could do the trick, just one apple and all your little problems go away. Your skin plumps like a pin-cushion, your heart swells to the clouds, singing through to the heavens. Your lips red-as cherries, your eyes soft like the meadows. Would you take a bite? It is, after-all, all in the name of beauty…or so they say.”

The woman held firmly to a bright red apple, a bundle of them in her basket.

Reluctantly, Snow took it in her hand, gazing at it with hesitation.

“Interesting,” the woman scoffed— “You would rather wade into pools of water with depths unknown than to take a bite off an apple—of which this world you know? Typical…”

Stung, Snow put the cold apple up to her lips. Her teeth barely grazing the soft skin.

“They grow from that very tree over there…” the woman hissed, pointing to a tree sprouting from nearest the covered fountain.

“Just one bite and your life will forever change. Youth will bless you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Immortality and the chance to be forever thirty.”

Snow sunk her teeth into the tartly, sweet apple. Bitter juice filled her mouth as the world began to take flight, growing smaller as it pulled away from her, leaving her a cold, lump on the ground—and like that, beauty, or rather, the quest for youth and immortality had taken another life, though, some would argue Snow had done it to herself.