Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
So, this drabble is inspired by this post made by something-regal. Hope you enjoy!
   There were not many things that Regina still held dear in the world. Most had been taken from her, often forcibly, and she had soon learned that she could not hold onto people, or objects, as they would be lost to her eventually. But she clung to her mirror for dear life. There was an almost magnetic force drawing her to it, day after day; her fanatical obsession with what lay inside it bringing her back time after time, like a moth drawn to a flame.
   Regina was not a vain woman. Sure; she would primp and carefully compose her appearance, but that was all a show; a carefully calculated display meant to intimidate those who should know they were beneath her. What truly fascinated her about the mirror was looking into it and seeing her eyes; the dark chocolate that once sparkled with life and genuine joy, but now only glossed over with menace, if at all. Every day, she would look and see if the sparkle had returned. It was an exercise in futility, this she knew, but the ashes left of her hope still smoldered in her heart.
   Her routine was unvarying. She would approach the mirror, look the Genie straight in the eye, and recite:
Mirror, mirror, do you see
Any goodness left in me?
Is there fairness in my heart?
Or has it been torn apart?
   And then she would wait. She would wait, and inspect her reflection, scrutinizing every last detail, starting with her permanent scowl, and ending with the deadness in her eyes. What was once glistening chocolate was now dull mud; as lifeless as she felt inside. She would think back to her youth, to the young woman who rode horses passionately and fearlessly and helped a scared little girl without a second thought; to the teenager who strayed a little too close to the edge of her parents’ expansive property in her quest for freedom; to the child who played in the dirt, making herself a better world than the one she inhabited and befriending the curious animals who came to see it.
   She had been so good. So kind, and hopeful, and brave. What had happened to her? Life had stolen away every sparkle, every last bit of goodness, every selfless impulse she had possessed. Was it too late for her? Could she get it back? She kept on trying. She had to. When she was in front of her mirror, her mask was removed. The sharpness, the cruelty, were gone. All that was left was nostalgia and vulnerability.
   She would wait with bated breath for his answer. And every day, it was the same:
Your Majesty, I cannot see
Any goodness left in thee
Your heart, once so kind and fair
Has now been left cold and bare
   Every day, Regina heard those words, and her mask would crack a little further, the tears streaming silently down her face. Yet, the next day she would be back, asking the same questions once again. Because her hope shone so brightly that it was blinding. She was a moth, immolated by the flame of her own yearning.
