Snow White

White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony, she laid on the floor. Her midnight hair was once held in a high ponytail. Now, it was splayed out on the floor, luster gone.

They said that she had lovely skin, unblemished and a soft golden tan. Now, it was bleached of warmth and life, slowly turning white; a ghost. Still perfect, but porcelain, dead. The natural blush that had added to her beauty was gone, replaced by cold emptiness.

Expression twisted, bright eyes once so full of joy, love, and laughter. Gone.

A never-ending sleep.

Pink shirt stained crimson, a black bullet ending her gentle life. What had she done to cause this, to deserve this?

Death was now her companion for all eternity.

White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony, she slept. Waiting. Her spirit was gone, traces of life long disappeared from her body.

A fellow classmate, a mere peer, the cause of this pain, this agony.


White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony, they buried her. Rouge disguised her pallid face, new clothes hiding her bullet wound. They cried, they wept, heartbroken and alone, reminded of their own mortality. A lost friend. A lost sister. Daughter, cousin, aunt, mother. All vanished.

The coffin was lowered, hitting the ground with a loud bang! She was just one of many, one of the bright stars extinguished too early, potential wasted.

Tears mixed in with dirt, and her case groaned in protest. But it held.

Then, they placed a bouquet of fresh fragrant flowers on top of the new mound. The final touch.

White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony. The real Snow White.