Cinderella (2015) [Huke Stemmings]

Chapter One

Spring had arrived in the kingdom. The grass in the meadow was a bright green, and flowers grew tall in their beds. Baby lambs grazed in the meadow, while ducks flapped around in a small fountain near the main house.

Stepping through the front door, ten-year-old Harry inhaled deeply and smiled. He reached into his pocket and closed his small hand around the bread crumbs he had gotten from the kitchen. He skipped toward the ducks splashing about and began throwing the crumbs into the water.

The ducks pecked at the bread, thrilled to have a treat. But they were not the only ones who wanted some. In the instant, sparrows flew down from the nearby trees, and even the goats and sheep began to make their way over. Soon it was chaos as all the animals and birds to get to the bread.

Harry waded among the throng, moving some of the bigger birds out of the way. "You there," he said to one particularly large duck. "what do you think you're doing? Let the little ones have their share." Turning toward a goat with a rather large clump of grass in his mouth, Harry added, "Goliath, do take some time to chew your food. We don't want you getting an upset stomach."

A gentle laugh surprised Harry, and he turned around. His mother was standing nearby, an amused expression on her face. "Do you believe that they understand you?" she asked.

A look of doubt filled Harry's green eyes. "Don't they?"

"Oh, yes," she assured her son. "I believe that animals listen, and speak to us, if only we have the ear for it. That is how we learn to look after them."

A big smile spread across Harry's face. Then he frowned. "Who looks after us?"

"Fairy godmothers, of course," his mother answered.

(Dove, narrating: Forgive the interruption, but I can't resist. I was always fond of Harry's mother. Such a good judge of character, and clearly smarter than most humans. But do go back to the story...)

Harry's eyes grew wide. "And do you believe in them?"

"I believe in everything," Harry's mother replied.

Harry was quiet for a moment, his mother's word running through his head. He nodded. "Then I believe in everything, too."

"Which is just it should be," his mother declared.

Just then, Harry heard the sound of hoofbeats coming up the drive. He knew those hoofbeats. Harry let out a squeal before taking off across the meadow, heading for the drive. His father was home!

Harry's father was often gone for long stretches of time on merchant business, and when he was away, the house was just a little less bright.

"Papa!" Harry shouted, skipping the few remaining steps that separated him from his father. "Welcome home!"

Harry's father lifted him into his arms, nearly squishing him in a giant bear hug. He hugged back as harry as his little ten-year-old arms would allow. Then he took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of road and dust that accompanied his father whenever he returned. He loved the smell, even though he knew Mother would force him into a hot bath as soon as possible.

After several moments, Harry slid to the ground. As was part of his routine, he stepped up to Galahad and affectionately put his hand on his muzzle. The horse leaned into him. When Harry turned back around, his eyes widened with excitement. His father was holding out a beautifully wrapped gift.

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Oh, nothing but a cocoon," his father replied. "I found it hanging on a tree."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He knew it wasn't just a cocoon. His father was teasing him.

Harry's father gently shook the gift. "But I think there may be something inside." He held out the package, and very carefully, Harry unwrapped the gift. Then he let out a delighted gasp. Inside was the most beautiful and marvelous toy butterfly he had ever seen. With a practiced move, Harry's father took it and made the creature flutter around Harry's face. It looked like it was alive!

"In French," his father explained. "that is un papillon."

Harry repeated the phrase, the words funny on his tongue. His father had been teaching him French whenever he was home, and he was slowly becoming more fluent. He said that a true man knew the language of the poets as well as the language of the farmer.

"Très bon," his father cried after he had repeated the phrase several times. Then he held out his hand. "Voulez-vous danser, monsieur?"

"S'il vous plait!" Harry exclaimed, dipping into a curtsy. His father smoothly swept him into his arms, and they began to waltz their way up the rest of the drive to where Harry's mother waited, a happy smile on her face.
~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night, Harry lay tucked in his bed. The butterfly sat on the nightstand in a place of honor, while his mother sat on the covers, holding a beautiful book. Her gentle voice filled the room as she hold Harry a story about a faraway land, a large ogre, and a dashing prince.

Harry's eyelids fluttered as he tried to stay awake. Looking down at his sweet son snuggled in her arms, Harry's mother began to sing a familiar lullaby. "Lavender's blue, dilly dilly. Lavender's green...When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be king..." Her voice drifted off as Harry's father entered the room. He placed  gentle kiss on his son's forehead. Smiling, Harry's mother began the final refrain. Harry woke and his soft voice joined in. "Lavender's green, dilly dilly. Lavender's blue...You must love me, for I love you."

As the song came to a close, Harry's parents stood up and began to blow out the candles one by one. Walking to the doorway, they turned to take another look at their sleeping angel. In that moment, everything seemed as it should be. They knew themselves to be the most fortunate people, to live as they did, and to love each other so.
~~~~~~~
However, sorrow can come to any kingdom, no matter how happy. And so it came to Harry's, for his mother grew very ill.

Hovering in the doorway of his father's study, Harry looked on as the doctor examined his patient. A bed had been set up and his mother lay on it, a shell of the beautiful woman she had once been. Now, his examination complete, the doctor began putting away his tools.

Harry nervously picked at his shirt. His eyes fell on the curtains, drawn against the bright sunshine outside, and he felt a pang of anger. It didn't seem right for the sun to be shining when things were so horribly wrong.

"Harry. Come."

Hearing his father's tired voice, Harry hesitated before walking into the makeshift sickroom. The doctor put a hand on his shoulder as he departed. He knew he was trying to be reassuring, but it just made the sick feeling in his stomach grow stronger. Harry made his way to his mother's bedside and kneeled down, carefully placing his hand on the top of his mother's.

"Harry," his mother said, her voice weak. "It seems it is time for me to leave. And we must say good-bye before I go." Tears began to fall down Harry's cheeks.

"I don't want you to be sad," his mother said. Then she paused and a small smile spread across his face. "Well, you can be sad for a little while. But then, whenever you think of me, I want you to smile. Because I'll be smiling, too, when I look at you."

Harry's throat closed up and he struggled to say something. But words wouldn't come. So instead he just nodded.

His mother nodded back. "I want to tell you a secret—a great secret that will see you through all the trials that life can offer." Harry leaned in, as his mother's voice was now barely a whisper. "You must always remember this: have courage and be kind. You have more kindness in your little finger than most people possess in their whole body. And it has power, more than you know."

"Kindness has power?" Harry asked, confused.

"And magic," his mother said. "Truly. Where there is kindness, there is goodness. And where there is goodness, there is happiness. Have courage and be kind. Will you promise me?"

"I promise," Harry said, unable to stop the tears from falling.

His mother let out a deep sigh and sank back into the pillows. "Good, good." she said. "Now I have to go, my love. Forgive me."

In that moment, Harry heard the importance in his mother's words. He did the kind thing, even though it broke his heart, and forgave his mother. For he had promised. And he would keep his word. Harry would always to be courageous and kind.

(Dove, narrating: Oh, reader, the loss of Harry's mother was a tragedy. But do you see what I mean? Such a wonderful woman. She would have made a wonderful fairy godmother. Though I know she watches over her dear, sweet Harry, just as I do.)