This is an alternate ending to Cinderella, the infamous children's fairy
tale that I pretty well despise. I was bored one day, and this just…popped
into my head, so I wrote it. Pretty depressing, although more likely than
the actual story. Please don't flame too harshly! This is my first story
story. And, if I get sufficient reviews, I'll post the rest. Enjoy, if you
can!
*Disclaimer* I own nothing but my own thoughts, and technically, I don't even own them. They tend to, er, run wild.
Our lovely little Cinder Princess is at the ball…
He took her petite hand lightly in his strong sturdy one. She had scrubbed them with a mixture of water and lye to get them clean, as they were eternally dirty from all the hard labor on the floors of the hall. He spun her gracefully on her toes, all the while her heart hoping the shoes on her feet wouldn't crack. They danced around the room, weaving a pattern across the floor, unbeknownst to them. For Cinderella's jewelry was beginning to disintegrate. It was ten minutes still till midnight, but the fairy godmother's magic was running weak. They were alone in the world.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was practically midnight! She quickly broke away from him, telling him not a word, and ran towards the exit. Her jewelry all fell away as she spun to see what was behind her. She blinked back tears as she turned once more to her set course, as he was chasing her as hoped, but was not sad. He was angry, angry like someone had just shot an arrow in his leg, and he could only limp away as they set upon him. She felt a crack, then a shooting, blinding pain in her foot.
Her glass slipper had cracked. The heel had broken off, and because of her weight on it, it too had shattered, the shards jammed into her foot. The toe was the only thing not damaged. She collapsed on the ground, sobbing the whole time. She had just broken the heart of the man she had danced with, the Prince! And now she could not travel because of the glass. She felt angry with herself, but especially with her fairy godmother. Why had that wretched old hag let her go? She was but a peasant, no, a slave, and had no hope at ever being released from this position. She sat for several minutes, then examined her foot. It was not a site to be beheld by children, or by slaves with midnight dances with royalty. She picked the little objects of torture out of her foot, then limped home.
The next day, her stepmother shook her harshly awake. She yawned, and got up. She stepped on foot with the multiple puncture wounds, and collapsed, again. She got up, then wrapped her cap round her foot. She limped awkwardly down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Her partner, Mary, was already doing the morning dishes. Was she really asleep that long? She shook herself, then picked up a dish. She dipped her hand into the steaming water, picked up a plate and wiped the cloth across its surface half- heartedly. She was desperate to see the Prince again. In the midst of her daydreaming, she dropped the plate of expensive china on the hard, stone floor. She winced as she heard it crash, and stood with her eyes closed for a moment, then stooped to collect the bits of china.
*Disclaimer* I own nothing but my own thoughts, and technically, I don't even own them. They tend to, er, run wild.
Our lovely little Cinder Princess is at the ball…
He took her petite hand lightly in his strong sturdy one. She had scrubbed them with a mixture of water and lye to get them clean, as they were eternally dirty from all the hard labor on the floors of the hall. He spun her gracefully on her toes, all the while her heart hoping the shoes on her feet wouldn't crack. They danced around the room, weaving a pattern across the floor, unbeknownst to them. For Cinderella's jewelry was beginning to disintegrate. It was ten minutes still till midnight, but the fairy godmother's magic was running weak. They were alone in the world.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was practically midnight! She quickly broke away from him, telling him not a word, and ran towards the exit. Her jewelry all fell away as she spun to see what was behind her. She blinked back tears as she turned once more to her set course, as he was chasing her as hoped, but was not sad. He was angry, angry like someone had just shot an arrow in his leg, and he could only limp away as they set upon him. She felt a crack, then a shooting, blinding pain in her foot.
Her glass slipper had cracked. The heel had broken off, and because of her weight on it, it too had shattered, the shards jammed into her foot. The toe was the only thing not damaged. She collapsed on the ground, sobbing the whole time. She had just broken the heart of the man she had danced with, the Prince! And now she could not travel because of the glass. She felt angry with herself, but especially with her fairy godmother. Why had that wretched old hag let her go? She was but a peasant, no, a slave, and had no hope at ever being released from this position. She sat for several minutes, then examined her foot. It was not a site to be beheld by children, or by slaves with midnight dances with royalty. She picked the little objects of torture out of her foot, then limped home.
The next day, her stepmother shook her harshly awake. She yawned, and got up. She stepped on foot with the multiple puncture wounds, and collapsed, again. She got up, then wrapped her cap round her foot. She limped awkwardly down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Her partner, Mary, was already doing the morning dishes. Was she really asleep that long? She shook herself, then picked up a dish. She dipped her hand into the steaming water, picked up a plate and wiped the cloth across its surface half- heartedly. She was desperate to see the Prince again. In the midst of her daydreaming, she dropped the plate of expensive china on the hard, stone floor. She winced as she heard it crash, and stood with her eyes closed for a moment, then stooped to collect the bits of china.