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The Whole HalfPrologue: The Wicked Queen

It is almost midnight. It is fitting.
High up above, the wind drives the clouds racing across the sky. The silver moonlight flickers maddening upon the tallest tower, of a darkened castle, where the wicked queen lives.
She is about to die.

***

The wicked queen stared at herself in the mirror… She was beautiful; there was neither a wrinkle nor a blemish to indicate her age. Her rivals, those who had dared to be ‘the fairest of them all’ had long since faded and died. In the beginning she had been foolish, spending 5 her time with such things as poisonous apples, when all she needed was time; with time everything faded.
She cussed.

Of course she knew that death was unavoidable, it came to everyone. Even the fact that she was about to be killed did not bother her; it was all part of being a wicked queen. Whether she was pushed into an oven by two ungrateful children or beheaded (as the case would be) by her faithful servant, was irrelevant. It was tradition.
What aggravated her now and had done so for such a long time, was the fact that everything she had achieved and striven for would be forgotten. What was the point of it all? Why be a wicked queen if everything you did died with you? It made no sense. All those lonely nights sitting around a bubbling hot cauldron in the company of fat rats and hairy spiders, were they for nothing? She too could have chosen to dance with the handsome princes, laughing at their jokes while hoping one day, one of them would ride out to rescue her.
The queen sneered.

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