Ugh I have such a terrible update schedule I apologize...
Retro Mania: What would Drizella or Anastasia's version of Bippity-Boppity-Boo and the transformation been like? (paraphrased)
Not gonna lie, I am not a songwriter. I will not successfully write another entertaining gibberish song so I just made up some gibberish. It doesn't work... I'm sorry I tried but I just don't write songs it's not my forte.
So I had some fun with this one!
Anastasia walked along the crowded cobbled street, brushing against the crowd as she fought her way to the bookshop. She heard rumors that her step-sister Cinderella had written a memoir. Ella. Her real name is Ella. She reminded herself sharply, knowing no one would take kindly to the derogatory nickname her family gave to the young woman who was now their Princess.
The bookshop was at the end of the road, a small stone building with a broken white fence likely vandalized by some local children one night. She placed a hand on the door and pushed, a gentle bell ringing as she entered. The inside felt claustrophobic; the walls were lined with bookshelves and stacks of books, the air was thick with dust and the smell of resin and old paper.
"Can I help you miss?" Anastasia turned to see an elderly man addressing her. His eyes magnified by a large pair of glasses nearly as thick as a milk bottle's bottom. Tufts of grey hair lined the sides of his head, with a few wispy white hairs covering the otherwise bald top of his head. He was nearly a head taller than her, and looked as if he weighed ten kilograms less.
"Yes!" She answered loudly, straitening up. "I am looking for the new book, the memoir by... Princess... Ella," She tried to make herself seem more confident than she was, glad she remembered to use the correct name, though she could just imagine how her mother or sister would react had they heard her being polite about her step-sister, fake or not.
"Popular book..." The man grunted, walking to the counter to drop his burden and vanished behind another stack of tomes. He returned holding a leather bound book that looked far too new and clean to be in such a cluttered store.
"Thank you," She followed him over to the counter and rifled through her purse for the money to pay for the book. She handed him a couple of faded coins and bid him good day before departing. Knowing how her family would react if they caught her with the book she continued down the main road until she felt she was far enough from the town to read it without word getting back.
She opened it, seeing a dedication to her beloved Prince on the first page, gushing about his love and support. Anasthasia wanted to be angry at it, to mock the silly word, insult the impulsive way Cinderella Ella! Ran off with a man she maybe shared an hour of time with. But truth was she envied her. She was the pretty one, the talented one, the one with the beautiful voice. Of course she would be the one the Prince would swoon over.
She read the first chapter. Then the second. She flipped through the pages, straining her eyes against the dimming light as the sun began to set. Were we really this horrible to her? She thought to herself. She would be the first to admit they weren't exactly kind to the young woman, but until she had her own actions laid out before her did she realize how terrible of a person she really was.
"No wonder I have no friends and can't meet a man," She complained, pouting. A strong pang of guilt pushed her to keep reading. She flipped between a sense of heavy guilt at her own actions, and anger that her step-sister must have exaggerated how terrible her family was. We're going to become town pariahs!
As she read her guilt and anger began to fade into a fantasy about her own escape from her mundane life. She imagine herself crying outside by the fountain, left alone by her family in a tattered dress when her own fairy god mother would appear.
"Well now child, we cannot be having this," a gentle voice pulled her from her tears. Anastasia turned to see a short, rather plump, smiling woman standing behind her wearing green robes and a purple bonnet that clashed spectacularly, and a bright yellow ribbon around her thick middle, tufts of untidy red hair were poking out of the bonnet, and what looked like a thin white stick poking out from behind one of her ears. "Why are you crying my dear?"
Anastasia gave a loud wet sniffle, running the back of her hand under her nose childishly as she sobbed out her story of an overbearing mother, winy sister, and horrible step-sister. She gestured to her dress, an old hand-me-down grey rag she had struggled to sew together just to have it torn apart by those who were supposed to be her family.
"Oh come now, stop that crying. We can fix this,"
"Who are you?" Anastasia asked, narrowing her eyes at the woman.
"Why, I'm your fairy godmother!" She proclaimed proudly, throwing her arms out and giving a twirl, her purple skirts billowing around her.
"Fairy... godmother..." the young woman repeated skeptically, taking a step back. If she had ever imagined a fairy version of her mother, this certainly wasn't it. She couldn't have been a bigger constrast to her tall, thin, and proper mother.
"Yes dear. Oh don't give me that look, here," She began to rifle through her thick layers, pouting and huffing at each empty pocket.
"Uhh..." Anastasia mumbled, pointing, "Is that what you're looking for?" She asked, pointing to the woman's ear. Fairy Godmother flustered, and began to pat at her head and pulled out the white stick from behind her ear,
"There you are! Naughty wand!" She waggled a finger at it. "Now, what do you say we get you ready for the ball?" She asked,
"How did you know that's where I wanted to be?"
"Why I'm your fairy godmother! It's my job to know these things dear! Now what kind of fairy godmother would I be if I didn't know which wish to grant? Come now child, let's see..." She rubbed under her chin with the tip of the wand,
Salagadoola mechicka Hibbly-Wibbly-tee
Put 'em together and what have you got
Hibbly-wibbly-tee
Salagadoola mechicka boola Hibbly-wibbly-tee
It'll do magic believe it or not
Hibbly-wibbly-tee
Salagadoola means mechicka booleroo
But the thingmabob that does the job is
Hibbly-wibbly-tee
Salagadoola menchicka boola Hibbly-wibbly-tee
Put 'em together and what have you got
Hibbly-wibbly-hibbly-wibbly-wibbly tippity tee
Anastasia's loose fitting gray frock began to shift, suddenly the fabric felt softer, and despite feeling tighter it was somehow more comfortable. They gray gave way to a delicate pink, so pale it almost looked white at first glance. She felt her hair begin to curl and pull away from her neck, a pink ribbon winding around to hold it in place. Pale pink gloves slithered over her hands, fitting so well she may have dipped her hands in melted wax. She gave a twirl, watching the dress billow around her. In her wildest fantasies she had never dreamed she could have a dress so beautiful,
"It... it's beautiful," Her voice lacked it's usual harsh edge and loud tone. "Thank you," She turned, looking at her fairy godmother with tears in her eyes. "Why are you doing this for me?"
"Tut-tut we've covered that! I'm your fairy godmother! It's what I do!" She smiled broadly, taking in Anastasia's appearance. She looked vastly different from the crying woman she found. She had erased the dark circles around her eye the weeping had caused. Her eyes were lined with brown eyeliner, and a shadow hardly darker than her skin tone. The makeup blended with her own features so well it looked like she wasn't wearing any at all, exaggerating her natural beauty and bringing out her best feature: her eyes. "Now now, how to get to the ball," Fairy Godmother looked around her, and saw a melon patch, a few cows, and a barn cat yowling not far away as it pawed at a haystack that surely hid some mice. "Ah-hah!" She announced, and waved her wand,
A heavy melon rolled away from the patch, dragging with it vines and roots leaving a trail of dirt behind it that Anastasia knew would drive her mother insane upon her return from the ball Good. Let her be angry. Should teach her not to treat her own daughter this way! The melon grew, the green darkening into a shimmering emerald color, the stripes twirling into adornments. The vines curled back on themselves into wheels and a driver's perch. The roots extended, reaching out into the pasture and capturing two cows who began to moo furiously. Fairy Godmother tutted at them to calm, and before her eyes the cows thinned out into tall elegant spotted horses. The roots harnessed them to the newly formed chariot and began to calm with a wave of the magic wand. Their manes and tails were thick ebony-black hair, with dark spots to match against ivory white fur. The yowling cat was now dragged over by what seemed to be glowing and sparking air, it's gangly legs extending into feet, ears turning to the sides of it's head as forepaws extended into fingers. The cat had transformed into a hansom young man and was seated on the driver's perch, the reigns landed in his hands as the confused and frightened expression gave way to one of calm knowledge.
"There we are!" Fairy Godmother announced proudly, putting her hands on her hips as she examined her work. "I think the pale pink goes perfectly with that beautiful red hair of yours!" The emerald-green chariot would surely draw attention, and then everyone at the ball could see Anastasia's beauty and hopefully draw the attention of the Prince. The elegant horses patiently sat as their driver calmly held the reigns. "Something is missing," she rubbed the bottom of her chin with the wand again, scratching at the side of her head under the bonnet.
"Oh!" Anastasia exclaimed, realizing her feet here feeling rather cold. She held up the hem of her gown, holding out her oversized feet with her awkwardly long toes. She was worried her fairy godmother would not be able to give her shoes that fit. They had always been the source of much teasing from her peers, and jeering and criticism from her own mother.
"Oh! Of course! How silly of me!" She twirled her wand again, and like the perfectly fitting gloves deep black material snaked around her feet like second skin. The material was hard and cool, yet felt more comfortable than any shoe she had ever worn. "Now most people would want something white, or pink, to go with that gown. But I think a nice pair of obsidian slippers would be much nicer! They stand out. Besides, who else there would have volcanic glass slippers? You'll be the most envied woman there!" she clapped her hands excitedly. Anastasia had to admit, they were very flattering slippers. While mostly covered by the gown when standing still, they became obvious as she twirled. The black slimmed her feet, hiding how unusually large they were and making her feel more confident in herself. "Now child, listen carefully. This magic only lasts 'till midnight. I may be pretty fantastic, but even I have my limits. But I have no doubt you'll capture the Prince's heart at once! Now, off to the ball, hurry!"
With tears in her eyes Anastasia embraced the odd woman, sniffling thickly and trying to compose herself so she wouldn't smudge the makeup Fairy Godmother had applied magically. She gathered herself into the carriage, hurried off with waves and cheers.
Anastasia imagined a nice of dancing, champagne, and enjoyment. She imagined the fun of the ball without the overbearing presence of her mother, the bliss of falling in love at first sight, the dream of being admired for her obsidian slippers that would even put Cinderella's Ella's! glass slippers to shame. She sighed, forcing herself out of her fantasy to face reality. She looked down at her oversized feet, her dress that look quite plain compared to what she was just imagining.
Then she remembered what Ella's dress had looked like prior to it being torn asunder. It was quite beautiful, and she had put it together from scraps and discarded belongings. I'll learn to sew! I'll make my own fantasy come true. I don't need a fairy godmother. She thought to herself. She could probably even fashion herself a set of black slippers. They wouldn't be the skin-like obsidian slippers from her imaginings, but if she got good enough perhaps they would still make her feel better in her own skin. She looked down at the book, and smirked at it. "What mother doesn't know can't hurt her," She tucked the book under her arm and began to head home.
From the trees, a short plump woman in a green dress held in place with a yellow ribbin adjusted her purple bonnet, and smiled.