The mirror glowed, the mirror gleamed. The queen looked at her face and screamed. Wrinkles fine ran up and down, the smiling face now a frown. ‘I need blood’, she said, to put back that glow. ‘Find some silly maiden who spins, lock her in your room, and do what you do best; and please, not the skin white as snow type, you know what happened the last time’.
Bluebeard sighed. Maybe one day his story would be told.