When I woke up, I was laying on my stomach, watching a caterpillar slowly inch its way forward in front of my nose. Unsteadily, I put my hands on either side of my body and lift myself up; wincing in pain as the tiny bits of gravel move in my cut back.
I hobbled the rest of the way to the river. Splashing through the water, I put my shoes on the rock and took off my dress. Laying, down on my back in the cool water, I winced as the gravel was washed away by the gentle currents. The blood from my back seeped through the water as it was carried downstream. After laying in the water for about twenty minutes, I pulled myself out and waded over to the rock. Following placing awkward bandages on my back, I slipped my dress over my head and threw on my shoes. Weaving through the trees on the way back to the house, I could hear the Widow and my step-sisters shrieking; oddly it wasn’t for me.
When I arrived in the parlor, I saw that Marie and Gene were bouncing up and down; dancing around the room. The Widow was hollering for them to be quiet so she could finish reading the piece of paper in her hand. She had left the envelope in which the paper came in on the coffee table, so I inched in that direction to find out the source of their hysterics.
The bright cream envelope shone in the afternoon sun as I gasped at what was on the front of it. A coat of arms that had a shield with two lions flanking either side of it winked up at me. This was the coat of arms of the KING!! It was addressed to the Widow Pickering, Her two daughters AND her step-daughter Ella. What crazy, earth-shattering phenomenon had made this happen? I caught the last of what was on the letter after the two bimbos were quiet.
“That Prince Maxton himself is going to make a personal visit with the indigo slipper that was left behind by the young princess last night. The maiden who fit’s the slipper shall become the Prince’s bride!!” the Widow shrieked at this and Marie and Gene joined in.
I stood there dumbstruck. The indigo slipper…my slipper that I forgot on the grand staircase last night after running away from Maxton. But the letter said that Prince Maxton was coming over, not my Maxton. Are they the same person? They do share the same name, but no it couldn’t be possible; because I danced with Maxton all night, not the Prince. Maybe Maxton was the Prince. I would soon find out when the Prince was supposed to come tomorrow. Right now I had to start tidying up the house, as it wasn’t “fit for royalty” Marie and Gene told me.
Five painful hours later I stood in the main hall of the manor as every surface gleamed in the fading evening sun. Wiping my hand across my forehead, I sluggishly walked down the stairs to my room and collapsed on the tattered rug. I was asleep the minute I hit it.
The next morning came quickly with the three bimbos running around shouting about last minute details like their hair, dresses; and every surface that wasn’t sparkling enough already. Finally, the time for which the Prince was supposed to be coming rolled around. The Widow told Marie and Gene to go fix their make-up and hair. When they were gone, she turned to me.
“Why are you still here? Don’t you have another area that needs cleaning?” she hissed.
“No, everything is clean and I was hoping to get the chance to try on the lost slipper for myself, actually,” I retorted, loving the way her face screwed up in anger.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Cinderella
FantasyJust a small idea I thought about while sitting in my English class, combined with my love of fairy tales and princesses. Playing around with the idea has led to this story, Enjoy!