As soon as the boot sounded on the doorstep, the hollow wood sending its varnished echoes through the hall, she knew it was him. The soot rubbed dryly on her palms, and she hastily swiped them over her patched and worn skirt. She abandoned the wiping cloth on the hearth, the ash-covered rag followed by her dirty apron, which received a hearty kick into the fireplace.
The prince's low baritone swept warmly underneath her, as she sprinted towards the grand marble staircase. Tripping over her bare feet, she stumbled closer to his bright presence, like a sunflower turns its face unerringly towards the sun.
The whirl of the ballroom, the almost unbearable rush of radient skirts, the polite chatter despite the abundance of unabashed flirting. Last night, she dreamed of the prince's warm murmuring in her ears, his eyes only yearning for her face, hands tight on her silk-clad waist. He loved her, and only her. Each step, the musician's waltz accompanying their loving grace, had brought them closer to their new life together. Tracing the future with their courtly shoes on marble, her own dusty bare toes mirrored the dreamy waltz with fond remembrance.
She was near the end of the hallway, near the white marble staircase she was bid to mop and dust each day. The exultation bursting from her throat, she rounded the steps until she could see his perfect profile through the golden railing's bars. Hesitantly, for her hand was smudged hopelessly with soot, she ran her fingers down the gilded posts.
His glorious golden hair, the straight nose and unblemished features, sang of the young god Apollo as he glided through the ornately decorated room. In his hand, he held the matching cut-crystal slipper in his strong, finely molded hand. Her stepsisters flocked around his shining presence, and her gilded eyes were unable to see the ungracious lust in his azure eyes.
Running to the top of the stairs, she called out, voice ringing through the hall. The gentle murmurs stopped as she brandished the gleaming slipper, its facets reflecting the morning sunlight that pooled through the window, shining its rainbow prisms across the prince's face.
And through the glitter as the mirrored light broke across the bridge of his nose, carved lovingly by some perfect god or spirit, she saw the comtempt twist the edge of his chisled mouth. The distain in his clear eyes, dazzling even in their cruelty, slowly changed to laughter, and with a murmur, he bent and whispered something in her stepsister's ear. She tittered, tucking her hand in his elbow with obvious glee.
A roaring came in Cinderella's ears. She could see the prince's beautiful lips moving, and she cried out again, this time with agony ripping its bloody hole from her breast to her belly. They walked away, arm in arm, without even a backwards glance, though it would have been impossible not to hear the gut-wrenching shriek.
As their shoes echoed through the hallway and out the great door, their steps pounding in her mind like an executioner's axe, the footsteps blended with the unbearable ringing of the great Clock in the palace's highest tower. Stumbling towards the window like a madman, she threw the crystalline slipper towards the decorated stagecoach with surprising force. It shattered, sparkling bits littering the greyish dirt of the road.
Feet as weak and unsure as a newborn kitten's, the girl staggered hopelessly to the edge of the carpeted stairs, the bell's tolling making her head pound painfully. Eyes wide and blind, the beautiful silks and brocades flashed in her mind, the intoxicating whispers and sweet empty lies; their saccharine glaze dripped like honey from the prince's experienced lips.
Her feet stumbled in her wild, unaccompanied waltz, and her form fell through the open air; the last heart-stopping thud as her body slammed into the inexorable marble floor was the last terrible knell of the clock as she faded into absolute blackness.
And outside, the carriage's wheels rolled over the broken bits of crystal, pressing the glimmering shattered pieces deeply into the grey dirt, and the dull crunch of the pieces breaking were as lost as the dreams of the dead servant girl lying abandoned in the hallway.
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can you review and tell me how to improve? i just wrote this up quickly, barely even read it back, before posting. i need help.