Cendres
Cendres. In French, it means ashes. Ashes meant a place for Matthew to warm his hands after scrubbing the floor. Cendres was ugly, dirty. No one wanted them. No one wanted Matthew.
Matthew stared out the window across his bed. Beyond that window was a giant clock. Behind that clock was the palace. The clock counted down his time until he had to cook breakfast. The palace reminded him of what he could never have.
The clock finally chimed. Five heavy bongs that ringed in Matthew's ears. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He stood slowly, not wanting to rush the morning. Not wanting to rush his torture.
He dressed in his clothes. Though they were more like rags. His pants were torn at the ends. His white shirt was a dingy yellow. His shoes were almost devoid of their soles. He wore no under clothes and only had two of each item of clothing. His hair was a limp dirty mess. He didn't bother to worry about his appearance. He was not concerned, he was more focused with avoiding getting in trouble.
Matthew moved quickly down the stairs. He was quiet, not wanting to wake anyone before he had prepared their meal. He walked into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. His blue-violet eyes scanned the area, looking for something to eat. Something they won't notice is gone.
He took a piece of bread. If he cooked well enough, maybe he would get some leftovers. He began to retrieve the ingredients and utensils he would need for the meal. He flinched at every clank of the pans. Every sizzle of the meat. His eyes shot to the door every thirty seconds.
The mansion finally awoke as Matthew was setting the table. His step-father came down the stairs first. His footfalls heavy with his fat belly. His breaths came in pants. Matthew could hear him from the dining room. He was a disgusting man and Matthew had no idea what his deceased mother saw in him.
"What are you doing in the dining room?" The fat man asked upon seeing Matthew.
"Just setting the table, sir." Matthew said, his eyes downcast.
"Is breakfast ready?" His stepfather say heavily in a chair.
"Yes. Should I wait for the girls?" Matthew asked. He stayed where he was, not daring to move to the kitchen until he was excused.
"They'll be down soon enough. Go get me my food boy!" His stepfather sat heavily in his chair, the wood creaking.
"Yes, sir." Matthew left quickly, not wanting to be near the man for longer than he had to.
In the kitchen, Matthew heard his stepsisters come down the stairs. Dorlas with her sharp heels and fast foot falls came first. Grezlda followed, her footsteps heavy and dull as her fat form hobbled down the hall and stairs.
"Matthew!" Dorlas's shrill voice echoed around Matthew's head. "Where is my breakfast?"
Sighing softly to himself, Matthew loaded his arms up with platters and cups. A walking balancing act, Matthew entered the dining room. He set the food in front of each individual, ignoring the whispering between his stepsisters and the glares coming from his stepfather. With everything in place, Matthew stood at the end of the table, waiting to be excused.
After a few minutes of listening to the happy family chatter, Matthew risked a glance around the table. No one seemed to be paying attention to him, though he had not been excused. But he had dishes to do.
He could either turn and leave, or ask to be excused. Both risked a bloody nose or a giant migraine. Weighing his options, Matthew decided to leave. At least he can explain that easier than his talking.
He turned slowly on his heel, not wanting to alert the others of his departure. However, his plan failed when he heard his stepfather's voice.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"To finish the dishes." Matthew said softly. His heart jumped to his throat.
"Why weren't they done before I came downstairs?" His stepfather asked.
Matthew could sense the anger boiling beneath the surface. "You came down sooner than expected."
The man stood. Slowly and threatening. "Didn't I teach you to always be ready?"
"Yes, sir. And I was, but you awoke sooner than usual." Matthew attempted to explain. He could hardly be in trouble for not having dishes done. And if this stupid man would just let him go, there wouldn't be an issue.
"Then I suggest you get up earlier. Instead of dawdling in your room." His stepfather seated himself again. The girls snickered at each other. "You may leave."
Holding his head high as he dared, Matthew fled the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and let out a relieved sigh. At least he hadn't been hit.
•
Matthew was scrubbing the stairs when there was a knock at the door. He looked around the foyer quickly. He wasn't allowed to be seen by anyone who visited. He gathered his cleaning tools and moved to the supply closet as his stepfather shuffled to answer the door. They were wealthy enough to afford maids, the fat man just didn't want to spend the money or have anyone see Matthew and want to help him.
"Get in the closet!" The fat man snapped when he noticed Matthew placing the cleaning supplies in it.
Matthew thought about protesting that it was full of cleaning products that smelled, but simply nodded and closed himself in the closet. He took small breaths, the smell of the floor and laundry soap making his nose hurt.
"Hello sir, are you the head of the house?" An unfamiliar voice greeted.
"Yes." Matthew's stepfather answered.
"Here is an invitation to a royal ball. All the details are inside." The man said.
"Thank you." The door closed and Matthew waited silently for him to be let out. Though he had no idea how long that would be.
"Girls! Come down here! Quickly!" The fat man roared. Matthew flinched though the yell was not directed at him.
Matthew heard their shows clanking as they followed their father's orders. He opened the door just slightly, letting fresh air in, and watched the little family gather over a letter.
"The prince is having a ball to find a bride!" Grezlda shrieked. "Male or female between the ages of fourteen and eighteen! We make the cut!"
"Only by a few weeks." Their father said, somewhat grimly. "The ball is right before your birthdays."
"It will be alright! He'll never know! And the prince is nineteen himself!" Dorlas said.
Matthew felt a small tug at his heart. Did this mean he had a chance? The invitation did say everyone, and to not follow those instructions was against the law right?
"We will need dresses!" Grezlda then gasped. "And jewelry, and shoes, and a carriage!"
"You girls have plenty of dresses-"
"Not any fit for a ball of this!" Dorlas said.
After a moment of silence, Matthew got his call.
"Boy!" The shouted vibrated through the house, shaking Matthew's bones.
Matthew pushed the closet door open. He kept his eyes on the ground and his head low. "What is it, sir?" He asked.
"Take the girls to town to pick up any fabric they desire. Then I want you to sew their dresses exactly as they please." The fat man said. He reached into his coat and handed Dorlas a few notes of money. "Do you have any questions, or can you handle this task?"
"I do have a question, sir. If I may ask it?" Matthew said, his heart pounding in his ears and a tingle in the back of his throat.
"What?" The fat man snapped.
"Am...am I invited also?" Matthew asked, twisting his fingers together.
Silence settled around the broken family. Then the two girls broke into high pitched hysterical laughter. His stepfather grinned wickedly.
"Sure you are. But you need to have the floors cleaned, the stairs scrubbed, their dresses made, and corsages made for the girls." The fat man said.
"Wh-what?" Matthew asked.
"And that is on top of your other chores." His stepfather replied.
Matthew opened his mouth. He was ready to tell his stepfather off, to leave the room in a huff and refusal.
"Okay." He said softly. "What flowers would you like me to use?"
"Girls, what would you like to impress the prince with?" The fat man asked.
Matthew's eyes were on his shoes as they answered. They wanted him to use roses. Matthew briefly thought he could sneak poison oak into the corsages, though his stepfather would find out and punish Matthew severely. Matthew quickly dropped the idea.
"We need to start working on our dresses right away!" Dorlas said. "Father, may we go?"
"Yes yes, here's some money. And don't let that boy inside any stores-"
"Or touch the money." Grezlda finished. "We know how to treat dogs, Daddy."
"Good. Now off you go."
The girls left without a glance at Matthew, knowing he would follow.
•
Matthew's feet hurt. He leaned as much as he dared against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and willed the pain to go away.
He was in his situation because of his mother. She was terminally ill and wanted Matthew to have a good home to live in when she died. She lied about their status when she married the fat man. Matthew was treated well for the first few months, then his mother died. After that, he became the family slave.
It wasn't too bad at first. Just him doing the chores. Then he started to act out and his step father began to put him in his place. Beating and yelling were the most often punishments. Finally, Matthew gave up. He didn't bother to try to escape or disobey.
Not that he didn't want to leave. He wanted out of that house more than anything. There was just nothing he could do.
"Matthew!" Dorlas's shrill voice shattered the blond's momentary peace.
He stood straight and held his arms out. Fabrics, scarves and jewelry were piled high on his hands. He rolled his arms and held the items to his chest, trying not to drop them.
"Next shop!" Grezlda said, following her sister.
Matthew rolled his eyes. If they bought any more stuff they would need a horse and carriage.
The sisters walked down the wooden patios, looking into windows and chatting. Matthew kept a few steps behind them. Though he hated to admit it, he also looked into the windows.
The blue fabrics were his favorite. Royal, baby, navy, dark, sky blue. He loved them all. He hesitated at a window that had a roll of the lightest blue he had ever seen. It was like the sky had bled into the fabric. He stepped closer to the window, his eyes never leaving the roll.
"Matthew!"
The blond jumped and jogged to catch up with his sisters. He glanced over his shoulder once at the splash of blue, he turned his head back when the fabric disappeared from his sight.
•
"I don't like it!" Grezlda snapped. She was in a freshly sewn dress. Matthew had tried to make it slimming, but the girl was too large to look decent in anything.
Dorlas snorted. "Well if you weren't so fat, Matthew wouldn't have to use a whole roll of fabric and drown you in it."
Grezlda gasped, her large cheeks inflating. "If you weren't so stick thin, maybe we wouldn't have to waste money on medicine every winter!"
Matthew sighed mentally. His fingers hurt from sewing dress after dress for the ungrateful girls. Each had about two by now and none of them had been worthy. They were in a discard pile in the corner, waiting for Matthew to pick out the seams. Maybe he could make himself some new clothes. Or undergarments. Nothing his stepfather would notice of course. That would be idiotic.
"Matthew! Stop sitting there and start my new dress!" Dorlas snapped, apparently becoming bored with bickering with her sister. "I'm thinking pink this time."
Pink was probably the worst color for Dorlas. With her pasty skin and stringy hair, pink would wash her out. But who was Matthew to speak his mind? He just stood and went over to the fabrics. He began measuring and cutting. He had the girl's measurements memorized. He had sewn plenty of clothes for them. Though they insisted on being measured each time in case Grelzda lost a few pounds or if Dorlas gained some weight in the last hour.
"Hurry up, idiot. It's almost time for lunch." Dorlas said, running her witchy fingers through her hair.
Matthew almost dropped his scissors. He forgot to make lunch. What could he tell his stepfather? I was too busy trying to please your demon spawn to make lunch, sorry? That would go over well.
Swallowing thickly, Matthew finished cutting out the parts and began a quick stitch. He helped Dorlas in the dress just to have her snarl and slap him against the cheek. "You know pink isn't my color!" she yelled before ripping the fabric and leaving it on the ground.
Matthew didn't move. He waited until both girls had left the room. Then he gathered the rejected dresses in his arms and jogged from the sewing room. He would have taken the dresses to the garbage, but there was so much fabric from them he wanted to make some new clothes for himself.
He dumped the dresses in his room before running down the stairs. He kept his foot falls quiet as he could as he ran to the kitchen. He prayed to whatever God there was that he wouldn't go past his stepfather.
Luckily, he made it to the kitchen without a hitch. Then he threw open cupboards and ice chests to begin a stew for lunch. He mumbled to himself as he worked on chopping vegetables and salted meat. Though stew was an easy lunch, since he didn't have time to prepare. However It was a heavy food and they would complain all night. He would have to make something light for dinner.
"Boy!"
Matthew jumped and about dropped his stack of bowls. He quickly placed the bowls on the tray before rushing to the door. As he got to the door, his stepfather swung open. "What is taking so long?"
The blond took a step back and twisted his hands together. "It's almost ready." he said softly. "Just a few more minutes.
"Make it snappy." his stepfather gave Matthew one last glare before disappearing behind the door.
Matthew let out a sigh. At least he didn't get hit. He turned and began to dish the soup into the bowls. The steam floated happily out the window above the locked door that lead outside. Matthew watched it float away. With a shake of his head, he added bread to each plate then grabbed the tray.
He used his hip and his back to swing open the door. He was greeted with shouts and glares from his family about how long he took. He ignored them the best he could and placed the bowls in front of each person.
When finished, Matthew took his place at the end of the table, waiting to be excused. After a few disgusting bites from the family, his stepfather dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Matthew disappeared quickly. In the kitchen, he poured himself a small portion of the stew, his stomach cramping in hunger. He swallowed the hot soup quickly before setting upon his chores.
He went upstairs, careful to avoid the dining area by using the back hallways. He got to the sewing room and signed at the mess the girls left. He began to pick up the loose fabric and rejected dresses. As he pulled the clothes in a pile, Matthew began to realise just how much they're was. They surely wouldn't miss a few things.
Matthew took a peek out of the door before deciding to grab a few darker dresses. He dragged the pile from the sewing room, up the stairs and to his room. He stuffed the fabric under his bed before jogging back to the sewing room and cleaning it up.
Matthew was beginning to get a terrible feeling in his chest. It was something he hadn't felt since before his mother died. It was hope.
His chores were done for the day and he had spent the last week staying up with a single candle sewing the outfit he would be wearing to the ball. The girls' dresses were done.
Everything was looking up. That is, until it was an hour before the ball and Matthew's father decided that the stairs needed to be scrubbed. Again.
Matthew wanted to fight. He wanted to scream and refuse. But where would that get him? A black eye and an absolute no way to the ball? No thanks. So, Matthew set to work.
At the top step, the girls came out of their rooms. Matthew felt his heart jump. He quickly rinsed the step and dried it. Then he turned to find his stepfather.
He didn't have to look far. The fat man was standing below him. "Done?"
"Yes. May I go?" Matthew asked, his voice a whisper.
"Change quickly or we will leave you."
Matthew didn't let his grin spread until he was sprinting up the stairs to his bedroom. He threw off his work clothes and dug the freshly sewn pants and shirt from under his bed. It wasn't the best material for pants, but far away no one could tell.
His shirt was made from one of the girl's bodices. It was pink, a color that Matthew didn't particularly want, but it fit him better than the others. He ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to rub the dirt off his face.
With a small smile to himself, Matthew sprinted back down the stairs. He saw his awful family opening the door. His heart pounded painfully. "Wait I'm ready!"
His stepfather turned to glare at the boy. The girls groaned and halted their steps. "Well, hurry up!" Grelzda snapped.
"I'm coming." Matthew said. He skipped steps as he jogged down the freshly cleaned stairs.
The girls glared at him. Matthew wasn't sure if it was from envy or what, but he fought the smug smile that worked its way on his face.
"I'm ready." Matthew said again breathlessly.
"Took you long enough." his stepfather snapped.
Matthew said nothing. Talking would most likely ruin his chances of going. Instead, he walked straight to the family, his head held high.
"Where did you get that top?" Dorlas suddenly asked.
Fear jumped into Matthew's throat. They couldn't possibly know that he had used their rejected dresses. "I made it."
"Out of what? We never gave you fabric." Grelzda piped up. "Where did you get black pants?"
Matthew caught his lip between his teeth. He couldn't tell them. He would be punished. So he repeated himself. "I made them."
"Out of our dresses!" Dorlas shouted. He took hold of Matthew's sleeve and yanked Matthew to the ground.
"I didn't!" Matthew cried. His hands covered his head. Grelzda ripped at his pants. The girls' sharp shoes and pointy nails dug into Matthew's skin. He didn't try to fight. That would only make it worse.
After a few minutes of yelling and getting pulled at, the girls finally backed away from Matthew. The blond stayed on the ground, his hands covering his head.
"Well, well, looks like you can't come, after all." his stepfather said. Then, with a twirl of his heel, the trio left.
Matthew slowly pushed himself off the ground. His looked around him, the fabric wasn't salvageable. He pushed his hair back and leaving the mess on the ground, made his way outside.
The cool air felt good on his hot cheeks as he ran through the garden. He stopped beside a rose bush and let out a scream. He usually didn't show this much emotion, but he had had it. He was sick of this family and this life. Matthew collapsed to the ground and began to cry.
"Now, now. It's okay." a voice sounded from above Matthew.
The blond jumped up and stared at the man before him. He was dressed in black from neck to toe. His hair, however shimmered silver under the moon and his red eyes glinted. Matthew stared at the man blankly and noticed a small yellow bird perched on his shoulder.
"Who are you?" Matthew asked. His heart was beating in his throat. Who was this man and why was he in his garden?
"I'm your fairy godfather!" the man said. He reached out and wiped at Matthew's tears. "Now up, up. You have a ball to catch."
"What? I don't understand." Matthew said. He rose to his feet, gripping the man's arms.
"I'm Gilbert and I'm here to help. Now let's see. We need a new outfit."
"Wait, wait, wait." Matthew held his hands up. "Explain."
"Well, you see when the big boss man finds a child in need, they get assigned a fairy god mother or father. You got me when your mother died." Gilbert said.
"So, you've been with me this whole time?"
"Sure have."
Matthew stared at the man before standing and throwing his arms about. "Why didn't you save me sooner?" he shouted. "I've been tortured my whole life and you just watched?"
Gilbert raised his hands in surrender. "I had to. We can only interfere in life once. I was saving it."
"For what?" Matthew's blood was boiling. All these years of being a slave when this fairy could have saved him? It was preposterous.
"For when you lost all hope." Gilbert stated calmly.
Matthew's glare dropped as quickly as it found its way on his face. "What?"
"You were always so brave. You looked toward tomorrow, and tonight, you gave up." Gilbert said, a sad smile settling on his face.
"I didn't know." Matthew said. He felt so ashamed with himself. He thought he would never be that kind of person.
"And that is why I am here." Gilbert lifted Matthew's chin. "Now let's see what we can do with that outfit?"
Matthew blinked in confusion as Gilbert helped him to his feet. "How about sky blue? To match your eyes."
"What does this have to do with me losing hope?" Matthew asked.
Gilbert lifted Matthew's arms. "Your step- sisters destroying your chances of going to the ball made you lose hope. So let's get you a chance at that prince, eh?"
"Do you really think I could marry the prince?" Matthew asked after a few moments of Gilbert puttering around him. He suddenly felt relaxed and comfortable around the fairy.
"When I'm done with you, the prince would be an idiot not to want you." Gilbert patted Matthew's cheek.
Matthew felt a grin spread across his face. "Okay, then. Do your magic!"
Gilbert's smile was as bright as the sun. "I thought you'd never ask."
The fairy waved his hands in the air and bubbles descended on Matthew. The blond watched in awe as the bubbles popped, leaving the sky where pink tears were. The golden bird flew over Matthew and pulled at his hair before fluffing it with soft wings.
A few moments passed and the bubbles had all popped. What they left behind was a shy boy whose eyes shone brighter than they had in years.
"You look amazing, Mattie." Gilbert beamed, obviously proud of his work.
Gilbert nodded and with a wave of his hand, a large bubble appeared. It gleamed and shimmered before solidifying into a mirror before Matthew.
Matthew didn't breath as he looked at his reflection. His tousled hair was settled into place, besides a stray curl above his eyes. His glasses were fixed and not a smudge of dirt was on his face. His top was slim fitting and was made from the sky blue fabric he had admired before. Gold stitching held his clothes together. His pants were fitted and shiny black shoes winked at him.
"It's gorgeous." Matthew breathed. He touched his hair. He couldn't believe the reflection was him. Yet his hand followed in the mirror-like bubble.
"It's you that's gorgeous, Birdy." Gilbert replied.
"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Matthew gushed, unable to contain his excitement.
"Just doing my job. Now let's get you to a ball." Gilbert grinned.