SquidgeWorld Archive

Sara walked into her apartment and slammed the door shut behind her. It wasn't the best of days at the precinct. Jake asked her out. She tried to let him down gently, noticing the hopeful look he gave her. But, she guessed that she hadn't been too successful. Danny, who pretended to be busy across the room, was obviously listening. 'Sneaky Chinaman.' Dante was just his usual ugly self. She thought she might get a little sympathy from Vicky. However, she was especially focused on her work and Sara might as well not even been in the same room. Sara decided it must be a Doctor thing.

She plopped down on her couch. She turned on the television, but couldn't have recalled anything that was on past the few minutes of commercials before she fell asleep.

The next thing Sara remembered was standing inside a huge entryway of a mansion. She didn't remember getting there. She wasn't sure where she was. It appeared she was inside Irons' estate, albeit a more medieval version. She wandered around the place a bit. She opened a door. Things within the room looked familiar, as if she lived in it, but she knew she didn't. Without knowing why, she began to feel comfortable. She decided to go outside for a walk.

Meanwhile, as if she was a character in a play, and a member of the audience at the same time, she watched herself go outside, and then turned around to see Kenneth Irons sitting in his drawing room. Hold on. Kenneth? It was his face. But he had on an ornate gown. As Sara looked closer, she could swear that he had a bust. In fact he (uh...she) was pretty stacked. Had Irons lost his mind? She heard the words, but couldn't believe he (she) was uttering them. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the most powerful of all?"
Right. Maybe Sara had lost her mind, because the mirror actually answered him.

"It is true you hold power over worldly affairs,
But a power much greater Snow Wielder bears."

"Damn it. That Wench!" Queen Irons pounded her fist on the table, angrily. "Nottingham! Get in here!" Sara saw a likeness of Ian enter the room. However, instead of his usual black clothing and black knit cap, he wore something that reminded her of a medieval German hunting outfit with a feathered cap. She listened as Irons gave him his orders. "Kill Snow Wielder and bring me the Witchblade!" She saw a fleeting look of shock register on the huntsman's face, but he answered, dutifully, "It will be done, your Majesty."

'Oh great.' Sara reviewed her situation in light of the fairytale it seemed to parallel. 'Huntsman finds Snow White...can't bring himself to kill her. Sigh of relief. Snow White runs away, never to return to the castle. Teaches birds to sing. Lives with seven dwarves. Yadda, yadda, yadda.'

She now saw herself outside in the woods, being startled by Ian's approach.
"Snow Wielder!" The scene being played out before her was ridiculous, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt there was a frightening reality to it. She watched the rest of the scene. "The Queen has ordered your death!" She saw herself gasp as Ian pulled a dagger from his coat. Sara bristled as Snow Wielder cowered. 'C'mon Chick. Show some chutzpah.'
As if her subconscious mind was following her direction, Snow Wielder straightened up and confronted Ian. "Yeah, Huntsman? Look...you tell Queen Irons to stick it where the sun don't shine! Got that?"

Ian stammered, "I...I was going to tell you that I can't bring myself to kill you."

Sara put her hands on her hips. "Well. Don't let me stop you. Go ahead."

"However, you're supposed to be so lovely and helpless that, naturally, I can't bring myself to kill you. But you're about as helpless as a tigress, and...well...honestly....I am tempted to kill you." Ian shifted uncomfortably and looked down.

"Oh, excuse me. How's this?" Sara placed the back of her hand on her forehead, swooned, and uttered 'Ohhhhhh' as demurely as her sultry alto voice would allow.

Ian stared at her for a moment. Then he turned on his heel, and walked toward his mount.

"Nice butt, Huntsman!" Sara clapped her hand over her mouth, as her dream self yelled out the crude words. 'Enough chutzpah, already.' But, Sara had to laugh along with Snow Wielder as they watched Ian stumble in surprise. He resumed walking, but as he mounted his horse, he waved a kiss to Snow Wielder, giving her a half smile.
Watching the chivalrous gesture, Sara felt herself get somewhat giddy. However, her dream counterpart was now extending her middle finger, inspired, no doubt, by Sara's mentoring.

'Wait...that part about bringing Irons the Witchblade...' Sara looked at Snow Wielder's wrist. 'Nottingham didn't take it. I wonder how that'll play out. The dwarves can wait. I gotta see this!'

Sara watched Ian. He couldn't return to the Castle. He was supposed to have the Witchblade. Instead, he rode off to the village. He dismounted in front of the Silversmith's shop.

"Ahh. Ian. Good to see you again." The old silversmith got up from his workbench to speak to him. "Witchblade is it?" he said, rubbing his hands, together. "Couldn't bring yourself to kill the lovely Snow Wielder?" The Silversmith disappeared into the back room mumbling something about 'poor boy, not likely to fool the Queen.'

The silversmith returned with a crude imitation of the Witchblade. Ian picked it up, turning it around to inspect it. He blew a breath to moisten the stone and polished it against his cloak. His eyes turned hard as the bracelet left a red smear on the cloak. He fixed the old Silversmith with a cold stare. Grabbing the man by the shirt, he pulled him up to eye level. "What are you trying to get away with, old man?"

"Please, Sir Nottingham. We just had the annual Village Costume Ball. Everyone wanted to be Snow Wielder this year. We just sold our last Witchblade. Then, your Carrier Pigeon came with your request. We were on it right away, but it was difficult. Even pulled the dwarves from the diamond mines for extra help. Thought the paint would be dry by now."

"You thought enlisting the dwarves would actually be to your advantage?" Ian growled in frustration. "Remember this. You still live, only because I like you." He released the frightened silversmith and stomped out of the shop.

Sara remembered. 'Dwarves. Right. Better get on over there, and hurry this puppy along. Good luck, Nottingham. You'll need it.' Instantly, she was standing in front of the cottage.

Snow Wielder knocked on the door. As she expected, there was no answer. She pushed the door open and walked inside. The place was cluttered and covered with thick dust.
"If these idiots think I'm going to clean for them, they're sadly mistaken."

She found the cleanest, biggest space she could and attempted to lie down. She succeeded in propping herself against the wall and stretched her legs out to not quite full-length. She thought she had dozed only a few seconds when she heard excited voices coming from outside. "It's Snow Wielder...like the deer and rabbits told us." "I wonder why she's here." "I wonder if she's tidied up." "I hope she didn't drink the beer."
Snow Wielder was still tired, but thought she ought to at least be presentable, seeing how she had let herself in, uninvited.

She got to her feet, just as the seven little men (make that six little men and one little woman) walked through the door.
Snow Wielder and the seven dwarves regarded each other in stunned silence.
"Crap. It's Petzini." One of the dwarves finally exclaimed.
"Dante???" She stared in disbelief at the homely dwarf who just spoke.
"He's Ugly!" the dwarves yelled in unison.
"Yeah. Well he's always been ugly. Your point?"
"No. His name is Ugly," the dwarf who resembled Gabriel, replied, glibly.
"Oh. I see. Appropriate."
Dante folded his arms across his chest, harrumphing.

Sara remembered the names she had seen on each of the little beds. She decided to test her detective skills. She pointed to the dwarf who looked like Danny Woo. "Let's see. You must be Sneaky."
"Isn't that a racial slur?" The Jake-like dwarf standing next to Danny piped up.
"I meant his name." Sara chided.
"Oh. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry."
Sneaky gave little Jake an annoyed look.
Jake shrugged and grinned widely at Sara. "Guess who I am, Sara."
Sara sighed. "I think you're Hopeful."
"Right!"
As Hopeful jumped up and down, excitedly, Sara felt an arm snake around her leg. "Hey. Watch It, Buddy!"
"Sorry. I couldn't reach your waist, but why don't you try to figure out who I am, Bella." a Tommy Gallo clone said, silkily.

"Piece of cake. You're Creepy. Now let go of my leg."
There were three more dwarves to identify. She remembered she hadn't matched Gabriel with his dwarf name. "Funky?"

"At your service."

"Great. That's what I like to hear." Sara winked at him. She looked around and cast her gaze upon the cute dwarf with the boyish grin she had somehow overlooked. "Shouldn't you be my Prince Charming?" she asked, noting he was a dead ringer for Conchobar.

"Aye. Tisn't me bloody dream, though, is it? Alas, I got stuck here with this lot. Me name's Catchy"

"Catchy, huh?"

"Right, Darlin. Catchy, as in there's a catchy little tune, eh?"

"Oh, I see. That fits. Well. That leaves 'Doc.'" Sara looked around and spotted the one female dwarf that resembled Vicky Po. "You? You're Doc?"

"Yeah. So?"

"How come you get to be 'Doc' when everyone else has a bogus Dwarf name."

An indignant chorus of "Hey!" echoed in the cottage.

The Vicky Po dwarf shrugged. "You try being the only woman around here. The title gives me the aura of authority. Besides. I am a doctor, you know."

"Works for me. So. What do we do now?"

"Shouldn't you cook us dinner while we go and wash up in the tub?" Sneaky suggested, a little too insistently.

"In your dreams, Sneaky!" Sara retorted. "I mean, by all means, wash up." She sniffed the air. "A bath wouldn't hurt. But I was kinda thinking we could order take-out or something."

Funky rolled his eyes. "Not in Medieval Europe. Unless they can hear you yell all the way to the nearest village...even then...

Ugly broke in. "Hey, don't give her any ideas. I've heard her yell, before. I think she could pull it off."

Funky continued. "As I was saying...even then you'd have to wait two days for your order, by which time the food would be spoiled, and you'd be half dead from starvation anyway."

"Oh yeah. Splendid." Sara sighed. "I forgot. No phones, no take-out, anyway, for that matter. Got any left-overs in the fridge?"

Sara could swear she heard blinking in the otherwise soundless room.

"No fridge. Let's face it, Snow. Your options are seriously limited, here." Doc offered, sympathetically.

Sara narrowed her eyes, trying to recall something. "Wait a minute...I'm sure I remember someone mentioning beer."

Sara heard Catchy gasp.

"C'mon Gang. Where are our manners?" Doc rallied the dwarves. "It's the least we can do. Creepy. Make yourself useful. Get the Lady a mug of ale."

Creepy did as he was told for once and presented Sara with the frothy beverage.

Sara took a big swig and sputtered. "It's warm!"

"That's how you're supposed to drink it, Petzini. I mean, Snow Blower...whoever." Ugly said, unpleasantly.

"Ugh. Forget it. What is there to EAT?" Sara's composure was beginning to crumble.

"Dried venison and a hunk of bread." Hopeful offered, sounding pleased.

"Well, now, that sounds awfully appetizing, but you know, I'm not that hungry after all." Sara said, facetiously.

"Suit yourself, Bella." Creepy grabbed the bread. Mayhem ensued as the rest of the dwarves dove on top of Creepy and scrambled for the food.

Snow Wielder shook her head and walked outside, disgusted. The woodland creatures made sympathetic noises.

"Piss off." She dropped to the ground and gave a primal scream. The cottage went quiet, then she heard, "See. I told you. That'd carry to the village."

Snow Wielder heard a twig snap, and looked up. A strange old woman leered at her evilly. "Oh right. I'd forgotten about you. I suppose it's poisoned apple time."

"No, Snow Wielder. That's too derivative. I've thought of something spectacularly original."

"Please. Spare me."

"Oh. But, you really wouldn't want to miss out on this." Queen Irons rubbed her hands together.

Sara smelled the aroma of Starbuck's Coffee. She almost hugged Irons. "Oh. I'm sorry. I was wrong about you. You brought me coffee. Where is it?"

"Right there, Sara." Irons pointed to a building that appeared out of nowhere.

"Oh. Thank you. She walked to the entrance. Reaching for the door, she felt a force knock her back. "Whoa. Wait a minute...why can't I get in?"

Irons laughed and goaded her. "Try again. Snow."

Again she tried to enter but was driven back more forcefully.

"No...please....I...can't take....anymore." Too weak to try again, Snow Wielder passed out.

Meanwhile, back at Castle Irons...

Ian could not break the bonds that held him in place, a short distance from the Magic Mirror. Of course, he had not been able to pass off the fake Witchblade. Queen Irons went into a rage. Ian had asked the queen to kill him for his disloyalty. He was not so fortunate.

"Make the Celine Dion songs stop!!! Please!!!!
The music stopped. "Ohhh. Thank you."
But, the Magic Mirror was just changing CD's.

The poor huntsman groaned. "Oh. No. Not again." 'La Vida Loca' tortured his ears, relentlessly. The mirror had been programmed by Queen Irons to play the most annoying music of the future.

Back to Snow Wielder...
Through a foggy haze Snow Wielder looked up at Funky, who was hovering over her with a look of concern. "Sara."

Shouldn't he have called her Snow Wielder? She was suddenly compelled to ask, "How'd you grow three feet taller?"

Gabriel shook his head in bewilderment. "What? Sara...wake up and smell the coffee. I stopped by Starbucks."

"They let you in?"

"Um...yeah. I'm old enough to buy coffee. Speaking of letting me in...your door was unlocked. You know, I thought you'd be more careful being a police detective, and everything."

"Oh Gabe." Sara was finally waking up. "Right. I thought I had locked the door. Hmm." Sara grabbed for the coffee. "Oh God, Gabriel. I love you."

"Uh...Sara...you're scaring me."

"No...I mean I thought I'd never be able to have this stuff again. I had the weirdest dream. I dreamed I was Snow White, sort of."

"Yeah...that is weird." Gabriel looked at her skeptically.

"You were one of the dwarves."

"Right. OK." Gabriel started to back away, then paused, asking, "Which one?"

Sara shook her head, snickering. "Never mind."

"Why are you laughing? I wasn't Dopey, was I?" Gabriel asked, doubtfully.

"No, of course not. All my dwarves had original names, except for Doc. Your name was Funky."

"Funky?" Gabriel scratched his head. "OK. I can deal. So who was Prince Charming?"

"Well who came to my rescue?" Sara said distractedly, obviously engrossed in her coffee.

"Um. That would be me. But, I thought I was a dwarf."

"OK. So you're a versatile actor."

"Thanks. Hey, wasn't I supposed to kiss you?"

"No. That was the original version, OK? In this version, you bring me coffee and we live happily ever after." Sara drained the last of her cup, and looked over to see if Gabriel had any left.

Noticing the feral look in her eyes, Gabriel hastily handed over his cup of coffee. "Happily ever after at hyper speed from all the caffeine, right?"

"You got it, Gabe."

"I love fairytales."