The Forgotten Eighth Dwarf and the Dark Truth of Snow White
You think you know the tale of Snow White—
Of dwarfs and queens and wrong from right.
You’ve heard of mirrors on the wall,
Of poisoned fruit and fateful fall.
But lean in closer, take a seat,
For what you know is incomplete.
This isn’t the story of song and delight—
This is the truth about Snow White.
Long ago, deep within a quiet forest, there lived eight dwarfs—not seven as the legend claims. They were hard-working miners who found joy in the swing of their axes and the sparkle of rare gems. Day after day, they toiled in the mines, singing cheerful songs and gathering jewels, which they sorted with care before retiring to their cozy woodland cottage.
The dwarfs were a tight-knit group, each with a name befitting his nature: Bashful, Dopey, Grumpy, Sleepy, Doc, Happy, Sneezy, and the eighth—Leery. Leery was the eldest and, as his name suggested, deeply cautious. He was skeptical of strangers, paranoid to a fault, and never let his guard down. The others chalked it up to age, but Leery always insisted it was better to be safe than sorry.
One evening, after a long day in the mines, the dwarfs returned home—only to find something horribly wrong. The front door creaked slightly open. Inside, they discovered a young woman fast asleep in Leery’s bed. She was ethereal, with raven-black hair, skin pale as moonlight, and lips redder than rubies—the very jewels they unearthed daily.
They stared in stunned silence. Who was she? Why was she here?
Before anyone could speak, Sneezy let out one of his signature explosions. The noise startled the woman awake. With lightning speed, she grabbed a nearby broom and brandished it like a weapon. The dwarfs backed away, hands raised, but Doc, ever the peacemaker, approached gently. His calm voice soothed her, and soon she lowered her guard.
She told them a tale of persecution: a wicked queen, jealous of her beauty, sought her death. The dwarfs, captivated by her elegance and sorrow, welcomed her into their home.
All except Leery.
To him, her presence was a red flag waving in the wind. “We know nothing about her,” he argued. “She trespassed into our home!” But his warnings went unheard. The others had already fallen under her spell.
That night, Leery couldn’t sleep. Driven by instinct and concern, he put on his coat and headed for town, hoping to find someone who served the crown. If the queen truly hunted this woman, perhaps she’d want to know her location.
As he hurried down the forest path, he spotted a tall figure ahead—a huntsman dressed in royal garb. Leery stopped, panting, and waved.
“Please,” he begged, “There’s a fugitive in our home—she broke in!”
The huntsman nodded grimly. “I know the woman of which you speak. I’ve tracked her for weeks.”
Relieved, Leery turned to lead the way. But a sound froze him mid-step.
A song. Sweet, haunting, melodic. The same voice from earlier, singing into the woods. Then came the rustling—the sudden flight of birds, the frantic scurrying of animals, all fleeing the cottage as though escaping a fire.
Leery turned just in time to see her, standing over the huntsman’s lifeless body, blood dripping from her fangs.
Her beauty had vanished. Now her face was a ghostly mask, her eyes glowed with malice, and her smile stretched impossibly wide. She licked her lips, redder now than ever.
Leery dropped to his knees as she approached.
“Oh, don’t cry now,” she whispered, cradling his head like a child, “It will be over soon.”
Her fangs sank deep into his neck, silencing his final breath.
And that is the true tale of Snow White,
The vampire cloaked in beauty and light.
The eighth dwarf, Leery, gave all to save—
Now he sleeps forever in a shadowed grave.
The queen was not jealous of beauty fair,
But terrified of a monster hidden there.
The mirror failed, could not detect,
The demon queen would not expect.
And as for the prince, we may never know—
Whether he kissed her, or died long ago.
But evil walks still, behind those eyes,
And Snow White lives beneath her lies.
Moral of the Story:
Not every tale ends with a kiss and light—some truths are buried deep in night. Always trust your instincts, especially when no one else will. Sometimes the real monsters wear the prettiest faces.
