A Cinderella Story (Part 1)

Chapter 1: Kidnapped (Elliana's perspective)

The door swung open with a jingle.

"Welcome to Tom's Trinkets!" I said, smiling warmly as a woman walked in.

I was surprised to see an unrecognizable face; everyone knew everyone in Ayrith.

The woman walked up to the counter and arched an eyebrow at me. I self-consciously smoothed down my dark chocolate hair, embarrassed upon seeing her auburn bun so tight it pulled the skin on her face taut.

"I need to talk to Thomas. Is he here?"

I blinked, startled after hearing my father's full name.

"I'll get him," I said, regaining my composure.

I ran into the back room that led to our upstairs home.

"Father!" I called.

Something clattered to the ground. I chased the noise up the stairs and into his office. At least, we called it an office. It was more like his workshop, cluttered with papers, furniture, tools, and planks of wood.

This was where the magic happened. Where trash was turned into treasure, where objects transitioned from forgotten into unforgettable. The only thing that made it an office was his oak desk, where he did his paperwork or relaxed. Sometimes, when he was working on a project at his desk late at night, he fell asleep by it. I couldn't blame him though.

Sometimes, when he was away, which was almost never, I just sat at his desk, laid down my head, and closed my eyes, submerged in my thoughts. It was the apple blossom-vanilla scent of my mother's perfume that made it so alluring.

The desk had been my mother's vanity before my father had transformed it. And my mother disappeared.

Not died, but disappeared. Everyone claimed she was dead, but I knew she wasn't. Even though she was gone for twelve years. Even though that means she might have left us. I knew it in my heart.

Calypso Vera Elrod was not dead.

I was shocked out of my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder.

"Ella!"

I flushed, realizing I had zoned out again when I heard father say my pet name.

I saw worry in his gold-flecked hazel eyes, which were the envy of my plain brown ones. I didn't need to be a telepath to know what he was thinking:

The sixth time this month.

He had told me I'd get over it. But every day, it felt like my heart hurt a little more. I wanted to go to the desk, but I knew I couldn't.

"Let's go back downstai..."

I trailed off when I remembered the reason I had come up here.

"There's someone who wants to talk to you downstairs in the shop."

Father flinched.

"Who is it?" He asked, his voice quiet.

The way he said it almost made me think he already knew who it was, and why they had come. But that didn't make any sense.

"Come see."

I beckoned him toward the door.

I tried to fill the silence as we walked back down to the shop, but I could tell neither of us really felt like talking.

I guess we'll spend an eternity walking down to the impatiently waiting lady in awkward silence then, I thought.

Suddenly, in the middle of the staircase, Father turned to face me. He locked eyes with me, and, to my surprise, I could see them shining with tears.

"Whatever happens, just know that one day, you'll find me again, here at the shop, and things will be normal again. You'll find me."

He sounded like he was convincing himself. But that didn't really matter because I was too busy digesting his words to notice.

"Wha—"

"Thomas Elrod! No more stalling! Your payment is overdue, and I am collecting her now!" Yelled the lady in the shop.

Collecting her?

A chill ran down my spine, and I ran down the steps, ignoring Father's protests to stay back. Within a minute, I reached the back room.

I was about to grab the doorknob and burst into the shop, demanding answers, but I remembered what Father had said. I grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and wielded it how I imagined knights would wield a sword.

Just in case.

I tiptoed toward the door. Then, as quickly as possible, I swung the door open, hoping to catch her off guard.

I courageously charged into the shop, waving around a broomstick, and yelled:

"WHAT DO YOU WA—"

And then I was knocked out by a single bang on the back of my head.

My last bit of consciousness was used thinking: I'm getting really tired of being cut off today. And then, I know it's cliché, but everything went dark.