So, this is what happens when you have to write a prequel or sequel to a fairy tale for creative writing, and have Cher's Dark Lady stuck in your head. R&R please.
Disclaimer: I own nothing everything is owned by the respective people
There once was a good hearted man bewitched by a dark lady. The man lived a seemingly perfect life. He had a wife who cared for him and a daughter that was adored. Servants waited on their every need and maintained their magnificent home. Unfortunately the man was unable to enjoy the comforts of home for long periods of time. For the man traveled on business often to the south countries.
On one of his many journeys his graceful pearl white Arabian horse became very fatigued. Luckily, a small town was only a few miles away. Upon reaching the town, he discovered an old inn with tattered shutters and English ivy creeping up to the roof. A candle lit in the front window letting travelers know they were welcomed beckoned him. The old inn was familiar, but the town it called home was a stranger. Normally he slept for a few hours and continued on his journey. Tonight the man wanted an adventure, explore something new. Little did he know his life would change forever.
The gray cobblestones clicked underneath his boots. Laughter bellowed from the tavern. The town felt like home. Just beyond the tavern was a wagon. Candles glowed from the window and incense wafted into the street. As he approached the wagon exotic music entered his mind. An old worn wooden sign hung from the stair railing. A crescent moon was engraved on the rotting sign with open written under the night guardian. Overcome by curiosity he knocked on the door.
Two lovely girls no older than eight answered the door. Both had large piercing brown eyes, which had seen things most adults only dreamed or feared. Their dresses had tethered patches scattered throughout and the once rich colors had now faded.
"Our mother will see you now," they said in unison.
"Thank-you," he replied.
He was led by the girls to a beaded door way. Behind the beads sat a woman. Her hair was the color of onyx and curly with wisps of silver. Despite the slight graying anyone would have guessed she were no older than twenty-five. Many rings graced her fingers with matching bracelets on her wrists. In front of her was a small round table, which was covered with multiple jewel tone shawls. She gestured for him to sit on a small stool across from her.
"What is it you wish to know about your future?" asked the mysterious gypsy.
"I don't know. Will my life continue to be as wonderful as it is now?" asked the man.
The gypsy laid out five intricately designed cards in the shape of a cross.
"Much sorrow will come your way. A woman you love shall leave, while you fall for another," gleamed the woman.
The man shocked, abruptly rose and left as quickly as possible. A few months had past and he found himself once again in the town were his fate was made. Despite the first premonition, he returned to the gypsy woman and her children. With each visit he became more enchanted with the family and fell in love with the gypsy mother. Knowing his wife was to die made the affair easy on the man. For, he envisioned his daughter playing with the two little girls and growing to love the step-mother. The future step-mother also began to transform. She began to wear fewer baubles and dress like where the man was from.
One cold dreary day at home, the man and his daughter stood by the wife's bedside as she lay dying. With her last breath, she told her daughter to remain good and pious and she will look down from heaven.
The daughter sat by her mothers' grave; when from the corner of her eye she saw her father. He was with three people she had never seen before.
"This is our new family," he announced leaving the women to get to know each other.
"My daughters have never had nice clothes, yours will fit them well. You can wear the left over sewing rags and wooden clogs. You will also have to work for your food, much like how mine did throughout their young lives. They have suffered enough," announced the step-mother.
For years the motherless girls' father seemed oblivious to her mistreatment. Her only true companionship and comfort came from the cat. The step sisters teased her constantly. For fun, the girls tossed peas into the ashes of the fireplace and forced their stepsister to clean up the grimy mess. From that point on she was called Cinderella.