The Oak

Snowflakes danced and swirled around her face, the chill of the wind turning each tear into a tiny, perfectly formed icicle, each one smashing as they hit the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.
  As she staggered through the darkening woods the trees grabbed and snatched at her, their spindly arms snagging on her hair and clothes, keeping her captive. She span round, flailing her arms, knocking them away from her.
  She glanced behind her at every step, her heart beating so loud it echoed against the nearest tree - a large, towering oak, covered in moss and twisting vines; holding it in place. She felt safe here, resting against such a strong sentinel, rooted safely in the ground. She gasped to catch her breath back, slowing her breathing back to normal, steadying her shaking limbs.
  She held her pounding head in sweaty palms, closed her eyes, and went back. Back to the comfort of home. She reached out her hands and could almost feel the heat of the fire on her skin. She could see the orange and yellow flames dancing in the hearth. She sank to the ground, keeping her eyes firmly shut, pulling her cloak tightly around her, to protect her from the harsh, intruding wind. Here she stayed, in the safety of her imagination, for the whole night, contented in a deep sleep. In her dreams no-one could hurt her.
  A woman stood in a warm, fire-lit room. The orange and yellow flames danced in the hearth. Her pure black hair hung loosely around her white-skinned face. Her thin, pursed lips, blood red, were curved like a scythe into a sinister smile and her dark eyes glowed like a child in a sweet shop, finding their favourite treat. In front of her, hanging on the wall above the fire, was a mirror, edged with an intricately decorated gold frame. The mirror held an image; a beautiful young girl sleeping on a snow-covered forest floor, under the protective shadow of a large oak.
  The woman closed her eyes and began to mutter strange words under her breath. She raised her hands up to the mirror and lifted her head. Her eyes were now as black as her hair. Pure evil had overcome her. The logs in the hearth turned to ash and the warm fire was gone. The room was filled with a disturbing chill. The only light left was a strange glow that surrounded the woman. She was floating, as if in water, her hair drifting around her face. The room flashed.
  The image in the mirror began to move and change. The forest glowed just as the woman did. The oak tree that stood over the girl morphed. What was once a thing of protection and safety was now a threatening, evil thing. The strong branches began to twist and grow, wrapping around the girl. She did not wake. She was lifted up and pulled against the trunk, tightly tied, unable to move. But her body was still limp; still in a deep slumber. 
  The enchantment was complete. The girl would be no more threat. She would remain here, trapped in a frozen winter, timeless and still. Back, in the once again fire-lit room, the woman stood in front of the mirror. Only the mirror stared back at her. She laughed a hideous, witchy laugh and left.
  Although much time had passed, the woods had not changed. They were just as they had been for many years. A stranger walked among the trees. A hunter; a prince. Lost while tracking a wild boar, its footprints now covered with a fresh layer of snow. Although none fell from the sky. The prince could not see which way he had come, so continued to wander forward, hoping to come out the other side. Many things about the forest puzzled the prince. The snow was always fresh, his track constantly covered, almost before he had even lifted his foot. Yet the air around him was still, not a single snowflake passed his face, not even a slight breeze ruffled his hair. The trees stood; perfect and motionless.
  The prince grew tired and hungry, but still he walked. Looking for an escape from this lifeless prison. Amongst the bleak, grey scenery a flash of colour. A trick of the mind he thought. He followed it anyway as it might be a sign of life in this un-dead place. He worked his way through the maze of trees. The prince stopped in front of a large oak tree. He could see a piece of cloth hanging out of some branches which were wound around the tree like rope. He tugged on the cloth but it would not come free. Bringing out an ivory-handled hunting knife, sharper than a sabre's tooth, he slashed at the branches holding the cloth. The more he cut through, the more cloth was revealed, tantalizing him. Then skin, hair; a face. A face of beauty and innocence. Her eyes a deep, shimmering sea of blue, her lips so soft and gentle, her flawless skin. Perfection; love. The prince could not control himself. He felt a rush of lust flow through his body. A hot flush filled him. The blood rushed to his throbbing member, standing to attention in his undergarments. He undid his trousers with haste and let them fall to his ankles, pulled up the dress of the young girl - unaware her predator was about to feast - and thrust lower body against hers. Once he had had his fill and his load was empty he re-clothed himself, pulling on his raiment, and the girl, and turned to leave.
  He was about to set off once again, seeking an exit back to the outside world, the real world, but he could not leave her here. He wanted her for himself. Such perfection should not be wasted. An object of beauty to use at his will. The prince set the girl free from the tree and slung her over his shoulder, then continued on his way.
  After many days of wandering with only rain water to quench his thirst and little to replenish his hunger, the prince found a gap through the trees. He was free. And he had a trophy of much more worth and pride than just a wild boar.
  He was met with a celebrated welcome when he arrived back home. The unexpected length of his hunting trip had caused much worry, except amongst the maids of the prince, who instead were relieved for the short break from his constant desires and demands that needed fulfilling. They were even more relieved to see the prize he bared.
  After a hearty meal the prince retired to his room, where the girl had been taken and prepared: dressed in the finest silks for she must look her best for her rescuer. As soon as he saw her the prince was once again overwhelmed. He felt the same rush of lust flow through him once again, a lust that could not be controlled. He de-robed and climbed on top of the girl.
  A bright, warm light filtered though her eyes as they fluttered open, adjusting to the sun that shone on her face. It was a few moments before she could open them fully. To her alarm, as she looked up, she found a man leaning over her, sword in position, ready for the deed. She struggled to push him off, scrambling backwards, pulling her legs in tight and clutching them; locking him out. She stammered a question. Where was she and who was this man lying naked in a bed with her. You are mine now he replied simply. I found you, you belong to me. An enchantment was placed over the forest where you rested, causing you to sleep for all of time, trapping you there. i saved you so now you are mine. The girl felt overwhelmed at being held captive like this. A deep anger sparked inside her. lighting a fire in her stomach, one which grew fiercer as each day passed. Although she was treated well, having her freedom taken from her was worse than her life being taken. She could not live in this palace; the possession of some man.
  The prince came visiting a few days later, after giving the girl time to settle. He expected a grateful welcome from the girl he had so kindly rescued and provided a new life for. Instead he met an empty room. As he entered the door swung shut. Footsteps behind him. The scraping of a knife leaving its sheath. The slitting of a throat, quick as a flash. The girl stood being the slumped body of the prince lying on the floor. A pool of red flowing around her feet. No one could take the freedom of this young girl.
  And so the girl became princess, ruler of the land. All the prince's wealth and riches belonged to her. She ordered a group of men out to do her bidding: bring back the head of her stepmother, the person who was at the root of all this. She placed it on a stake, next to that of the prince, outside the palace gates. A warning to all.