In the castle dungeon, seven little men were strung up, waiting for a turn on the rack.

“All right,” said the Prince, flicking his whip, “anyone want to confess? No? Then let’s begin. You’re up first, Happy.”

After the birth of Princess Snow White’s half-dwarf daughter, things had gotten ugly.

Eliza Archer writes flash fiction and drinks too much coffee. She can be found at elizaarcher.com.