The Dreadful Nightmare of Snow White Read online

  «Bianca, Bianca… You drive me crazy!», sighed he as we used our mouths as goblets to relish that wine.

  He touched me between my legs making me start. «Stop! We don’t have any time! She’s comin’…»

  «I know», he replied laying his face upon my neck and getting drunk on my perfume, «I can no longer stand the fact she’s using you to …»

  «… Sell my body?». This time I foreran him quaffing and then I gulping down what has left of the wine. «You’re the only one who has banged me for free!».

  «Bianca!».

  «Chill out!», I skimmed over the zip of his trousers. «It’s been your technique that made me fall under your spell, after all. If it wasn’t for you, I would ‘ave been frigid for good an’ I’d never have found out what an orgasm was!», I confessed whilst getting up, «the one thing I owe to that slut».

  I turned to Hunter. «Is it true what you said last time we met? I mean, are you gonna take me outta ‘ere?»

  «Sure thing. I just need more time. We can’t run away with no money, Bianca. We both know love doesn’t pay the bills».

  I fell silent and began to click my teeth tensely, hence Hunter pulled me toward him «Don’t do that! Listen, I’ve got a gift for you!», and he threw a knowing glance at me.

  «… A new drug? », I cheered.

  «There’s talk, around, of a man who peddles a new kind of drug held in some apples», he spoke, «… But he’s quite hard to find. Nearly a treasure hunt.».

  «Apples?», I echoed puzzled.

  «Yes! It is said this stuff is mind-blowing and it so happens my highly-placed sources have discovered where our salesman is hiding tonight.» He looked straight into my eyes. «So, what d’you say, huh?», he handed me over some money.

  «He’s drawn ‘is inspiration from da Snow- White tale, or so it seems», then I took the cash. «Whoo! What kind of drug is that to be so expensive?»

  «Well, a really good one. One of those you can’t easily find elsewhere…»

  The whole thing stank. I had faith in Hunter, but I also knew nothing about his mythical “highly-placed sources”. Whoever has money can afford the best and that’s a well-known fact, enough to comfort me. Yet, who could tell that for sure? I had never even sniffed the air of the heights, but I had the feeling it had bitter smell, kind of like that one worn by those elderly women so to cover up the senile stench of their skin.

  That money scorched whilst I folded it with my fingers as if something, foreign and threatening, had already gone into my bloodstream.

  «You don’t have to do that, if you don’t want to», said he.

  «Did you try it?».

  «Of course, I did».

  «And how’s it?»

  Hunter bent towards me with a strange smile.

  «D’you want it or not?»

  I dwelled on his words: something was jumping up and down on the tip of my tongue. That was a “No”, a serious and thunder-like “No”, a “No” which almost begged me to be pronounced. But, at the very last moment, it turned out to be an unmerciful “Yes”. My body, my mind, my skin, my every neuron and atom: every single part of me was asking for drugs of any kind. It craved that. I felt my heart thumping loudly hanging in doubt until it fell on deaf ears.

  Thus, not even half an hour later, I found myself roaming about the suburbs. Those were roads that few women dared to cross by themselves, amidst these few there were the prostitutes and all the junkies like me. I knew everything about that place as I knew everyone who lived there: the whores turning tricks on the streets and the drug dealers who strolled back and forth. Since my father’s death on, my stepmother would kick me out of the house several times for no damn reason, even though she would send a friend of hers to fish me out. She could not run the risk of losing her personal toy. It was then, when I was in my sixteens that, sauntering around the city at night, I stumbled upon the red-light district. That night – dipped by the melodies, by unrecognizable faces and those odours that I still can't recall - I had no fear. I already knew what physical pain was, witnessed by the scars and the wounds all over my body; and furthermore, I already knew the psychological pain, as my eyes showed, full to the brink of all those endless humiliations I bent on. I did not fear for my life, I did not fear a thing. That place became my home.

  I marched onward as the Liberty Leading the People throughout the battlefields, where human morality clashes against the unappeasable and irrational desire for flesh; where the red lights, which flooded the pavements, could look like the blood of the wounded.

  I overstepped an alley that smelled to high heaven of vomit and arsenic. The crimson shades of those clubs filtered into darkness, pouring their reflections along the cold walls. That was a dead-end, but the man was supposed to be there, for Hunter was never wrong. My shadow remained fixed, it mirrored along the scarlet rug made of artificial light that stretched up to the walls smeared by the most unutterable monstrosities. Suddenly, a fast glimmer flashed from a dark corner. There I saw the unclear outlines of a figure. I slowly moved ahead, until the figure did move again. I swallowed, and my voice trembled when the question «who are you?» passed over my teeth, jumping on my tongue.

  «Who art thou standing at my sight, in this time of the night?». He was a man and he had a voice that was both hoarse and low.

  «I’m here for the apples’ salesman…»,I stuttered taking another step forward, as my trembling hands made the money dirty with sweat.

  «Then, thou hast nothing to fear, come here sweetheart and take mine apples!», the man answered.

  A voice, from within, was yelling at me to leave, to not get closer. Primarily, anyone of sound mind would have never, ever, gone there. But my rational me had already been completely screwed by the irrational me – the junkie chick – a very long time ago. So, I got nearer to the hooded man. His basket, full of some bloody-red apples, was floating in the darkness of that corner. The thrilling sensation of sampling them shortly dispelled every doubt or fear. When I bent down to pass him the money, he suddenly grabbed my arm: «White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony...», he breathed to me.

  I felt his gaze on me, nonetheless the darkness was so thick that I could not discern the traits of his face. The man left my wrist and offered me the juiciest amongst those apples. «To the fairest of them all!», acted he as he turned my money down.

  I stood there a short while staring at him, his traits were slowly coming afloat from that shadowy abyss, the same way an untamed predator waits for his prey hidden in the dark: if my stepmother was a shark, then, that man was a crocodile.

  I stood up quickly, my heart was beating violently. I ran away, holding tight to my chest the apple as red as it’s the Hell. At every step that I’d make, I could hear Cogito murmuring the distance I had to get over yet: « the yellow building, just a little more! Here we are. The liquor store, hold on, the park». My eyes were analysing every point, every line, every figure or physiognomy that passed me by. The apple throbbed against my breast, kissing my restless and pounding heart at every beat.

  I couldn’t help but watching it, as I climbed the stairs, and kept on doing that once I got inside the lift. As soon as I walked through the door, I got lost in its red, lost in my own reflection painted upon its shiny peel. Then, a lullaby suddenly came up to my tongue: «magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?»

  I shook my head blushing. I couldn’t be easily influenced by the madness of that beggar who, by dint of selling apples, had gone out of his mind. Was the drug outside the apple or, was the apple itself the drug? I couldn’t tell. All of a sudden, I began to find it so inviting that, in the end, I had my tongue enfolded in my own drool. I rubbed my lips against the smooth layer of the fruit and I got drunk with its perfume. I unlocked my mouth and gently had a first bite. It actually tasted really great, it was sweet but with a faint hint of a bitter flavour. It was so weird: it did not remind me that one of an apple, not even close. All objects around me began dull and split in
two.

  «Is it possible this drug’s already runnin’ through?», asked Cogito, as I crunched that mouthful which suddenly got a chewy consistency; thenceforth it became rough, then liquid, scaly. I swallowed that piece chewed at length and everything I had around began to get coloured. It was like a rainbow made of gum were covering every dressing ever thing: the furniture seemed to be made out of mouldable dough, whilst the curtains looked like waterfalls of paint.

  I beamed and looked at the apple which turned out to be as black as petrol, covered with a sticky substance that melted along my hands. Yet, I still found it so appetizing that I bit it over and over again. The apple leaked a thick and red juice that coloured my lips and stained my hands with a gluey fluid. The taste had become rusty and sour.

  I looked at the vivid colours over my head, whilst my hands squeezed the black and dirty apple. I plunged my nails into that fleshy and slimy pulp and had another bite. I ate the apple which became heavier at every bite, and with that weight I filled my stomach until I fell down on my knees. I had a retching and then my mouth rejected a black wave that utterly dyed the floor; I dropped on the ground whilst an electric spasm ran through my body, but I did not care about that, for I only cared about the colours: brighter than before, increasingly blinding and vivid, they mingled and I could not discern a thing any longer. I smiled, as that foamy slime kept on coming out of my lips.

  And then I heard foreboding voices calling out my name.

  And then the lights turned off.

  And then I turned off.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE AWAKENING

  The beating of Time was a fitful ticking. It echoed in the farewell which every second mourned before it disappeared.

  Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock.

  That artful rhythm went violently through my ears, as it alternated with a hissing and wheezing rale. I had my body narcotised by a cold dryness. I could even feel the pupils quivering as they weighed upon my parched eyes, which could not see but stains of colour wandering from one side to the other of a suffused darkness.

  Once I had my eyelids arduously opened, I saw an iron-like background painting right in front of me as if it was a faded watercolour. I just tightened my lips, for I felt them held together by an unusual dryness. I had my still-jolting lungs being pumped up by an irregular breath, whereas the blood ran sluggishly through my veins. My eyes snap-moved, I was trying to guess where I was at and what I had around. My heart began to scream, whilst the chaos swept through my head in the forceful awareness of being somewhere that I didn’t know.

  I winced and then snapped forward, straightening my back up. It seemed to me to asphyxiate. Every breath that I took would dart and shudder in a tone-deaf song. Something ― I perceived ― was enfolding my face. That thing was a mask.

  I got my breath back arduously, appeasing the beat of my heart. I tried to move my arms so to slip off the mask, but it didn’t take me too long before I realised to be trapped in a black strait-jacket made of latex. I tried, therefore, to free myself out by pulling and tugging, tossing my arms. Until, I seemed to be going down and then I violently hit the dull and frosty floor. Who knows how ― I ended up in a sort of a laboratory and it looked abandoned as well falling into ruin. I lifted up to the ceiling, where lots of black and white cables were twistingly interweaving. They stood gathered in a large socket upon which revolved some mechanical gears that, in turn, suited each other in a perfectly devised dance.

  The huge mechanism writhed over the extremity of the iron floor where I fell from, dragging away with me two long cables ―one was black colour, whereas the other was white. Both the cables were directly connected to back. Before I could even realise it, for I was totally panic-stricken, I began to drag myself away using my knees along with my trunk, pulling violently. In the end, the cables behind me broke off. I could flee. Out of my mind, I began to rush back and forth without knowing where to go, losing myself in a room with no way out. I couldn’t think clear since I had my mind thoroughly emptied, and my whole body trembled trying to push me out of it.

  Suddenly, a machine-like noise caught my attention since it seemed to forcingly grow louder and louder. A full-size screen, in the shape of an ancient mirror, slowly descended from the ceiling. Its light faintly brightened through the darkness of the room, revealing an uninviting place. The cables and gears climbed up onto everything in there, whereas the old geometric-shaped machinery conferred that place a frightening appearance. The crib where I had woken up was an uncomfortable slab with pointy corners, fully covered by the same cables I had managed to cut off of my body.

  I heard a buzz-like sound. My attention ran back to the mirror where an ill-defined shadow appeared.

  «Good to have you back!», said the shadow, in a heartening voice, a voice that sounded so familiar to my ears. «I suppose you’re frightened and confused. Calm down and slowly take a deep breath, the mask you’re wearing is used for this. I will spell you out later, but now just breathe. Slowly…»,

  I had already heard that voice, but where? The answer couldn’t be any obvious, so easy, predictable, yet I could not think straight at that moment. I watched the shadow growing steady amongst those intermittent vibrations, while trying to breathe slowly right as I was told to.

  «This is a recorded audio-visual message. I will explain everything, I will tell you every thing but, first, let me introduce myself».

  In a moment, everything became clear. I recognised that voice.

  «I am Snow White, and I am you. Well, I used to.», said my own voice coming out of the lips of that image with my own features. «The extra-temporal hibernation will surely have erased all of my memories, and it will have me reborn in what, now, is you. So, don’t be scared and don’t try to flee: as long as this message won’t be over, the door won’t open. The same shall apply to those shackles. Hence, it is better for you to calm down, otherwise, they could squeeze…».

  She was right, if truth be told. I could feel shackles squeezing painfully.

  I fell on my knees; my breath had become so sharp it pierced my lungs. I decided to stay still and turned again my attention to the words of that woman «All this may sound crazy to your ears, at the moment, and I myself don’t know exactly what to say. If my memories will have remained the same, it’s likely that I’ll have already found a way to turn off this recording and to walk out of the hibernation room; I’ll already know what to do, where to go and the only doubt will be to find my world changed or… being alone. On the contrary, if I’ll have forgotten everything, this will mean I’m already dead and that it’s up to you to carry out what I’ve started.», her face became serious: «I don’t know you, as I have no idea of what you like and what you don’t; nor I can tell the kind of person you are: if you’re a good one or a bad one; if you’re brave or you’re a coward. I know nothing, but I hope there’s still a trace of me within you».

  There was a fleeting silence, during which I looked at my own face becoming sad: that was a more expressive face than mine.

  That person in the mirror couldn’t be me. «No way», I thought, and that awareness left a certain sadness on me, a strange sense of inferiority.

  «I don’t have time. I will tell you few things and leave what’s left to the person you’ll meet. The mask you’re wearing is called Dectorade. It’s not just a common gas mask, but a localizer and a data communication network too, including updates. You may find it hard to use, at present, but you’ll learn. The mask can be activated thanks to a vocal code, COGITO ON, but don’t you do that now! when you’ll wish to disable it, just say: COGITO OFF, and you’ll be able to take it off. I strongly recommend you to not do that outside this room since you’re in a world infected by a virus, which causes body alterations and whose name is: Prometheus. There are few places that are pest-free and protected, where you can go around without the mask. When you turn it on, the Dectorade will link to your right parietal lobe. You’ll be able to edit the cognitive reconstruction of the images,
from there. The icons you’ll see are various connections to the global networks of this world. Okay, now you can turn the mask on».

  «Cogito on!», I sounded after a moment of wavering.

  I felt like I had a long and thin needle sticking deep inside my head. Then, I saw the icons she talked about fluttering around the room; some fluorescent squares that were perfectly aligning on both left and right side of my visual field. It seemed my eyes had become themselves two computer screens.

  «As I previously said, the Dectorade work as a radar as well. Currently, your position isn’t available on the global maps, since it has been wilfully disabled. No one must ever know you are! I know, you’re probably wondering a lot but… All in good time! Now, please, just try not to be scared».

  I wasn’t scared at all, nor I cared about the reason why no one should not know my location. I only though it was such a bore!

  «Now, to open up the Global Map, just say GMW UP!».

  I did what I was told to and the map appeared before my eyes.

  «Now, say DARKNIGHT.»

  I muttered puzzled her indications. A small icon appeared on the map, it was a black gas mask like mine.

  «That is Darknight’s location. He is the only one who can help you out, right now».

  The interferences began to scrape the display.

  «Keep in mind. Darknight’s the only one! There’s nobody else! He thinks I’m dead and meeting you he might be surprised, but then he will see… we’re not the same person».

  I just stood there listening. I couldn’t catch much of what my mysterious twin was explaining. As if, the whole situation, as well as those strange masks and all the rest, had already become usual things to me.