Now, this story isn't just like any other Cinderella story you've heard before, in fact, I'm not sure 'Cinderella story' is the right idea to put in your head, because it is really, only the story of Ash, and how the daughter of a mask maker can become a part of history.
When Ash was only two years old both her parent were involved in a house fire, and Ash was the only survivor. Everything she ever had became a memory that day. She was brought up in an orphanage, trying to find who she really was.
She was like a lost dog, going from door to door in hope of finding home, but for Ash, home never came.
She never felt like the mask she was wearing, never fit, and the only mask that wasn't burnt, was her father's favourite. It was full of colour and had a vine of thorns along the rim with petals covering the inside. The thing Ash didn't know, and feared she'd never find out is, why? Why was this her fathers favourite? Out of all the masks he made and sold, why was this one so special?
Ash lives in Amelia Toring's house as a servant now. A lot of Ash's time was spent in the kitchen, cleaning, but, in every minute of Ash's spear time she sat in the fireplace, considering, the fireplace seemed like the only thing that understood what it felt like, to be ash. But lets get to the good part in Ash's story; keeping in mind goodness never comes without a payment.
"Ash. Ash!" Miss Amelia Toring called as she hurried towards the door. As soon as I heard my name, I jumped up from my spot in the fireplaces and dusted myself off before sprinting towards the door. "Coming mistress!" I called as I ran towards the door. I meet up with my mistress in the hall and she glared at me. "There you are, you couldn't have gotten here any sooner? Oh, don't bother answering that just get the door!" she called, but I was already on my way.
I reached the door a few seconds later and opened it to see a tall man, with the same ash black coloured hair as me. "Hello, girl, where might Miss Amelia Toring be?" he asked with a bitter tone. "Miss Toring is on her way sir." I replied, respectfully bowing my head. He nodded at me and entered the hall. "Can I take your coat, sir?" I ask, my arms out ready to take his coat and hat.
He hands them to me and watches me carefully as I place them both on the coat stand neatly. Miss Toring's footsteps sound down the hall, growing clearer and clearer by the second, until she finally arrives.
"Can I get you a drink mistress?" I ask, hoping my behaviour turns out good, for my sake. "Yes, a kettle of tea, deliver it to the lounge room and make it fast." My mistress replies, leading the mysterious man into the lounge room. I nod, knowing my mistress can still se me, and turn towards the kitchen.
I walk towards the lounge room and open the sliding door with my foot before quietly walking over to the table between the two couches. I place the tray of tea down and attempt to hurry out of the room unnoticed, but fail. "Ash." The man calls. I stop and suddenly feel very sick. I'm only ever called back when I've done something wrong. I turn and walk back towards the man. "Can I get you anything?" I ask as politely as I can manage. The man laughs. "I was just wondering if you'd like to help me run a party this afternoon. You and your mistress would be paid and all you'd have to do is do some work in the kitchen, like cook some snacks and clean some spills, easy stuff like that. Would you be interested?" the man asked, a hopeful look on his face. I turn to my mistress waiting for her to answer the man for me since I never get to make decisions myself.
The man laughs again. "This is your choice. I've spoken with Miss Toring and she's fine with whatever you decide." My mistress smiles at me sweetly. "I thought it was about time you made a discission of your own." She says simply. I nod and turn to the man, trying to hide my smile. "I'll be happy to help." I say bowing me head. "Great!" the man said loudly, clapping his hands together. "I'll pick you up in an hour, oh! And you might want to bring a gown and a mask, it's a masked ball." He says as he stands. "A masked ball?" I ask shocked. The man laughs again. "Thank you sir." I say, barely hiding my happiness.
"But remember, you are to keep unnoticed. If you need to come and get me or you are called out the kitchen, that will be the only time you leave the kitchen, and you must do whatever the guests say, you understand?" he asks as he pulls his hat and coat from the rack. "I understand." I say bowing my head one last time before he shuts the door behind himself. I turn to my mistress. "Lets go get you ready shall we?" my mistress asks. I shudder and think to myself 'this is the closest emotion to happiness I've felt in a long time, and it's time to enjoy it' as let my mistress pull my up the stairs.
An hour later, I stood in my room staring at my father's mask, which I held in my hands. I walked down the stairs slowly, careful not to trip on the hem of the dress. At the bottom of the stairs my mistress stood, waiting for me. As I came into her view, I heard her gasp dramatically and I couldn't help a smile creeping onto my face. "You look… amazing." She managed.
I smiled at her and bowed my head to her once I reached the bottom of the stairs, just to raise my head to find my mistress's head bowed to me. I gasp and stumble backwards a few steps. "You deserve it. Now, put the mask on, I want to see." She says pulling my hands towards my face. "Yes mistress." I reply, lowering my head, but my mistress stops me. "Call me Amelia." She says, a sweet smile playing on her lips. I mime 'thank you' the best I can and place the mask on my face and pull the golden elastic over my head and sit it on the back of my head, hiding it under my hair.
I lift my head towards her only to see her biting her fingers with tears in her eyes. Just as Amelia opened her mouth to say something, there was a knock on the door I glanced nervously at the door and gently pulled the mask off my face seconds before the door opened.
"Are you ready?" the 'oh so familiar' voice of the man who's name was apparently 'Mr Vantaton' asked. "As I'll ever be, sir." I reply, giving him a brief bow as I head out the door. "Call me Mr Vantaton if you please." He said, pulling the door closed on the desperately waved hands belonging to none other than Miss Toring. I smiled to myself as I stepped into the horse draw coach that was waiting and looked down to catch a hint of my shimmering dress that was hiding behind my cape. I smiled again and decided to hide my face with my hood, so I did, and I wasn't spoken to a single time, until we reached the ball.
I did as I was meant to, I worked it the kitchen doing everything I could, but of coarse in the end I cleaned everything there was to be cleaned and had cooked all that was needed to be cooked and I knew what Mr Vantaton said but I just needed to get out of the kitchen, I needed to see the masks, so I took my mask, placed it over my face and silently stepped into the ballroom and oh, so many masks! All different shapes and sizes! As I passed through group after group of people, I noticed people started to stop and stare. I started to feel alone and afraid and started to make my way back to the kitchen but seconds before I found my way through the doors I found myself frozen, listening to the sound of a screeching microphone.
I turn around and saw a man with a microphone, sweeping his eyes over the crowd, and then he spotted me and smiled. "You, up the back with the amazing mask, I think you would be a great young lady to have the opportunity to sing in front of a crowd like this." He called, causing people to turn and stare. I shock my head wildly and turned back towards the kitchen but someone grabbed my arm. "Come on Miss, all you have to do is sing a little song." The man says, a smile growing on his face. That's when I stopped. Mr Vantaton said I had to do whatever people asked me to do. If I was to just walk into the kitchen, Mr Vantaton might be told and I might be left to live in the streets all because I didn't sing when I was told to.
"Good thing you're wearing a mask." I mutter under my breath as I head towards the stage. Everyone around me begins to part silently, leaving me a path and a massive feeling of guilt. I walked up the steps to the stage and stoped in front of the man whose smile was big with his yellow tinted teeth. I shuttered as I took the microphone and I stared out and looked across the crowd. So many happy faces, so many colours. Why couldn't I be that way? I took a deep breath and sung my emotions.
All these things, like colours they abide,
My only wish is to have them all by my side,
But all my life those colours fade to grey,
And all I have is nothing left to say,
Oh, if I had one wish,
To finally find what lies inside,
I think I'd finally have one chance,
To find the colours, that have died,
And if I could,
I find that feeling, so called pride.
Oh, all these things like colours they abide,
My only wish is to have them somewhere inside.
I finish my song and attempt to walk off the stage, the sound of clapping filling my ears. "Now that is what I call talent! I must see the face that's under that mask." The man at the microphone says, making a grab at my arm. He catches my sleeve but I pull it away from him, hearing only the dreadful sound of material tearing. I turn my eyes away from the stairs and place my stare onto my sleeve. The man has torn the marital clean off my arm. I raise my eyes to meet his face, which looks just as shocked as my own.
"How dare you." I say, barely as a whisper. "I'm so sorry, but if you'd please, your mask?" The man asks holding out the piece of my sleeve he'd torn off. "No. My mask will stay if you'd please." I reply strongly. I take the scrap of my sleeve from the man and I tear down the stage steps, anger burning within me.
As I make my way through the sea of masked people, I feel hands grabbing at my mask. "No, stop it! Go away!" I shriek, slapping the hands away from me, but it's too late. Someone has snapped the elastic and the mask has fallen from my face. I feel tear burning in my eyes as I turn to the exit and run, people gasping as I go.
"Isn't she the servant girl who works for Miss Toring?" I hear people whispering as I race to the doors, tripping on my dress on my way. I stumble but don't fall as I run into the darkness of the night.
I stop once I feel far away from the night's doings, and sit of a random doorstep in the poor part of the town. I sit and I cry and I think, and I realise something, tonight, when I was up on the stage singing, I felt like I was truly content, truly happy. I smile to myself then remember there's going to be trouble waiting at home. I begin to cry again when I hear the door behind me open. I turn to face a young boy, around my age staring at me in disbelief. "Dad, there a young mistress on the doorstep." The boy called before coming to help me to my feet.
"I'm not a mistress, I'm a servant. I work for Miss Amelia Toring, but not anymore." I say as I gratefully take the boys hand. "Oh, well all the same, what are you doing here? And why is a servant dressed like that?" he asked helping me inside the small, warm house. I told him my story and just when I was done, an older man appeared in the room. "Why, hello Miss. How can we be of service to you?" he asked bowing his head.
I burst into tear, dreading the fact I was now homeless and all people here do is bow.
The boy who's name was apparently Sam, helped me explain the story and once I was done the elderly man replied. 'Young Ash, my name is Jonah and. I think I could help you. I will allow you to live here with my son and I if you help us around the house. If you cook and clean, I will be happy to provide the food for you to put of our plates. If you accept, I will be more than happy to grant you a place at our dining table and a bed of witch you can lay your head. How dose this sound to you?" Jonah asked, a pleasant smile on his face. Tears of happiness sprung into my eyes. "If that is a place you are willing to spare for me, then I would be lost of words for kindness you've shown to me, a complete stranger of whom you've already accepted." I reply, and there was nothing more to be said, other than, I found home, and I found the mask that was a perfect fit, and I had now found myself through song.
The End