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From the Diary of Helmut Groeger!
By Michael St. John   

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Snow White gets wickedly twisted...




September 15, 1537


My name is Helmut Groeger, footman for the Von Wolkenstein family.  I am putting down from quill to parchment the true story of my king and his queen, for I fear that what I know will soon be the cause of my demise.


I have worked for the Von Wolkenstein family since I was a young lad.  All was well until the birth of my now queen, the one as white as snow.  Despite her mother having died at her birth, as a very young girl she was happy, polite and caring of others.  Contrary to the legend, her stepmother was not cruel and evil, and in fact, loved her step daughter as her own.  One morning just before winter, Snow White took her usual walk in the woods, and disappeared.


For fifteen seasons no one knew what had become of her, and then suddenly, she was back.  Despite the resemblance, what came out of those woods that spring day was not the loving child that had entered.  A story surfaced that she had been poisoned and that my king had saved her.  I assure you, this was not the case.    


I had helped raise my king, taught him to hunt, fish and fight.  I taught him how to be not only a man, but a gentleman, in finance, war and with people, be they royalty or peasant.  Despite my reservations as to what changes had befallen her, once they had met, my king was insistent and the two were wed.   


It was not long after the wedding that I noticed my king began to regard his new bride with what I can only describe as, trepidation.  It was also at this time that I noticed the strange things that began to happen, things that, despite having seen with my own eyes, I can scarcely believe, nor even begin to explain.


I was working late one night when I first noticed the lights.  I made my curious way to the source, a little used room atop the castle.  As I peeked into that room I saw what could only be described by most as magic or witchcraft.  Despite my modest upbringing, I am not a stupid man, nor prone to superstitions or fairytales.  I knew what I was seeing was not something conjured up by a witch or by some form of trickery. 

A section of the room had become blurry, unclear, moving and disconnected, as if one were looking through the edges of a campfire to the background beyond.  Thin streams of light, which I can only describe as lightening, flashed here and there.  A rumble shook the ground beneath my feet, and my hair was made stood up on end, as if by an invisible force.


From this blur emerged men, seven of them.  Let me now interrupt this narration and state that none of the seven were by any means short.  On the contrary, they were quite tall, I would estimate close to six feet.  Despite their advancing age, for I estimate the youngest to be in his very late twenties, they were in remarkable physical shape, exceptionally clean, all their teeth intact and their faces amazingly clean shaven and their hair cut surprisingly clean and evenly.


The accoutrements of these men were astounding.  I have visited many lands while in the employ of my king, and I have seen many fine garments.  The clothing of these men was a quality, consistency and make that I had never seen before.  They wore no hose, no garter and their boots were not slip on, but, instead, had several latching devices.  Their shirts and jackets were absent were any ruffles and the garments were tight, lacking any natural flow.   They carried strange devices.  One such device, worn on the wrist, and of amazing craftsmanship and material, was apparently used to tell time.  They all carried small boxes on their belts which they talked to and which talked back.  They carried guns.  These were far more advanced then even the ones my king used to hunt with.  There was no visible matchlock mechanism.  The gunpowder is some how ignited by some other means than with the traditional rope piece and match.  It is my guess that the means of lighting and thus propelling the projectile must be contained within the projectile itself.


They talked about things with my queen, strange things and places and people I have never heard of.  They spoke of a far away place called the states, and villages called New York and Chicago and Los Angeles.  They spoke of places called banks and of a tribe of people called FBI whom they feared.  The words my queen and these men used were crude, forward and often times, unfamiliar to me.


I attempted several times to advise my king of these strange occurrences, but with a shaken look upon his face, he would dismiss me, and soon I just gave up trying. 


I certainly can not be the only one who observed these things.  One morning I saw the queen’s step mother running from the castle, a look of horror on her face.  Two days later, she was gone, never to be heard from again.  Only this morning, I fear the same fate has befallen my king. 


I noticed the footprints of several very tall individuals outside my home this morning.  Only moments ago I heard the rustling of movement outside in the woods, the same woods where Snow White disappeared and where this strange queen and her strange men came from.


I now see several red dotted lights traveling up and down me and the wall near me.  I know of these lights for I have seen them before.  They are the lights of the guns from the seven men of my strange queen.  I have only moments to finish this and hide it in the hope it will be found and the truth will come out.


My name is Helmut Groeger, footman for the Von Wolkenstein family.  This is the true story of the one known as Snow White.



From the Official Records of Her Majesty, Queen Snow White

Hans Gruber, Captain of the Guard

September 26, 1537


A blood soaked diary in the hand of Helmut Groeger was found in his residence when he was reported missing by his staff.  Vilhem Hess discovered the diary two day ago.  Attempts to contact Mr. Hess for further questioning have so far been unsuccessful, as Mr. Hess himself appears to have vanished. 


The contents of the diary, after having been examined by the queen and seven of her advisors, have been determined to be the ravings of a madman.  The document was subsequently burned.  There are no known copies.


~ HG   





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