Once Upon a Time…
there lived…a woman. She was not beautiful, she was not rich, her parents were not royalty, and she was not a princess. Her name was Alethea and in fact, she was quite plain. Her parents were dead, and the only royalty she knew were the king and queen whom she served. Her entire upbringing was very humble and seemed only to remind her of the one thing she knew to be a certainty: she could never expect anything more from her life.
Her days were lived in service to others, and her nights were spent alone in a small room at the back of the castle, but she was content. This life was all she had ever known, and she had never been treated unkindly. Her mattress was comfortable, she was never left hungry, and she was provided with a fireplace for the cold winters.
She also found that on dazzling summer days when the sun shone and a breeze ran its fingers through the leaves, the castle doors were open for them all to enjoy the sunlight. She would always take a few moments to bask in the warmth of the rays and smile, a brilliant smile that seemed to reflect the very beams of sunlight themselves.
She didn't have many friends in the castle, but those she did have, she held close. She loved them without question, and they in turn found it easy to love her.
One evening, after serving dinner to the king and queen, her friend Lara offered to take care of her chores in the kitchen, granting Alethea some time for herself. Very much grateful, she thanked Lara and headed back to her room. On the way, she spied a small chamber that she had seldom, if ever, caught sight of, even during all her years in the castle.
Stepping into the room, she realized its beauty. The fire that crackled gently in the hearth cast a soft, warm glow over the carpeted floors. The shelves that lined the walls were filled with books, the likes of some she had never seen: large leather-bounds, small paperbacks, books stacked near the comfortably misshapen chairs. Never had she seen so much magnificence in one space. It was glorious.
As she scanned the ornate, golden letters, searching for a 'scape into which she could escape, her fingers traced the bold and delicate titles: the Ugly Duckling, Rapunzel, Briar Rose, Thumbelina… "Ah, this one," She cooed, lifting a small leather-bound volume from the highest shelf of the tallest case. Smiling to herself, she found a lump of cushion near the fire and settled down onto it, her back to the gentle flame, and began to read:
"Once Upon a Time there lived a noble gentleman who had one dear little daughter. Poor child! Her own kind mother was dead, and her father, who loved her very dearly, was afraid that his little girl was sometimes lonely. So he married a grand lady who had two daughters of her own, and who, he thought, would be kind and good to his little one. But no sooner did the stepmother enter her new home than she began to show her true character. Her stepdaughter was so much prettier and sweeter than her own children, that she was jealous of her, and gave her all the hard work of the house to do, whilst the two proud sisters spent their time at pleasant parties and entertainments.
The only pleasure the poor child had was to spend her evenings sitting in the chimney-corner, resting her weary limbs, and for this reason her sisters mockingly nicknamed her Cinderella
All of a sudden, the room began to glow with more light than the gentle flames could emit. Scenes that had been playing in Alethea's head sprang from her mind, filled the room, and began to dance to the cadences of her voice. As she read, the characters seemed to take on more life and vitality as they gracefully performed their parts.
But Alethea didn't seem to notice. Transfixed within the lines of the tale, she read on, each sentence building and building, adding to the beautiful panorama surrounding her.
It wasn't until she felt a light tap on her shoulder that she realized the splendor she had created. She stared in awe at the pumpkin carriage, the stepsisters, the horses that were once mice, and even the fairy godmother, before remembering to turn and acknowledge the one requesting her attention. What she found herself face to face with was the most handsome man she had ever seen. This, she knew must be her own gentleman Charming, palm upward waiting for her own hand to alight upon his own. He was asking her to dance!
Self-consciously, she patted her hair and smoothed the front of her dress. Her Dress! Looking down, she beheld yet another shock. Her shabby frock had transformed into a gown worthy of Cinderella herself! Smiling radiantly, she confidently took his hand and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor, her diamond shoes tinkling as they danced the night away…
The resonating chime of the midnight bell shook Alethea from her sleep. The fire had died down to mere embers, but the room still hummed with a magical glow. The book she had been reading lay dejectedly closed on the floor beside her, toppled from her lap during her sudden awakening. Sorrowfully, she retrieved the book. It had been a dream, only a dream, and now one more cry to heaven, one more fruitless hope at a better life.
She placed the volume back in its place on the highest shelf of the tallest case, and as she turned to leave, a small glint of silver caught her eye. Another book, with a most interesting title:
"Alethea" it read—her own name.
Lifting it delicately, she let it fall open in her hands. As she read the first few lines, she realized that it was her own story of this very night! Skipping swiftly to the part that told of her sudden awakening, she saw that it remained unfinished, but that in the minute corner of the page was written a note signed, with silver ink, Charming.
To my dearest Alethea,
It wasn't a dream. It was as real to you and I as your beautiful smile.
If you wish it, I promise that you will see me again, for I will write you
Your Happily Ever After…
Charming