I'm not who they think I am. A docile girl who meekly obeys her stepmother and stepsisters. Some kind of sick angel who cheerfully bears their mistreatment. That's what I WANT them to think. Because then they won't suspect what I'm really up to. The ball, the prince - it's all part of my plan to come out on top. Stepmother and her demented daughters will pay for every floor I have scoured, every sneer I have borne. They don't know about the white magic, how I use it to enhance myself. They can't see that my heart is black as midnight, rotten as a poisoned apple. They're about to find out.

dear stray eyelashes, ladybugs, dark tunnels, wishbones, dandelions, pennies, shooting stars, 11:11, and birthday candles, when will you do your job?

I have no idea where this story is going, it all started on one Sunday night when I got really, really bored and had a considerably light homework load. Please take a minute to stop by and tell me what you think. Thanks so much! -AL Reive