The Queen regarded herself closely in the mirror. Deep lines cut cruelly across traces of beauty as the Botox wore off again.
Gazing bitterly at cold creams and serums before her, she feared that rich men chose to marry younger women, like her only beautiful daughter.
The dead King had played away his fortune of gold thread, just as her father had gambled with her life.
It was time to make a bargain.
“What is the cost this time?” she asked, afraid.
The little man stood there, fingering rings into his chin hair.
“I think we said your firstborn child?”
By Anna Ghislena
In celebration of World Book Day this week the 100 Word Challenge here was prompted by the idea of giving alternative endings to traditional fairy tales. Click to take part yourself!