Cinderella

The pulsing tick of the old clock chimed through her ears; a repetitive, mocking reminder of her true status. 

The blood trickling from the golden shoe pooled in the bottom of the carriage, staining her white stockings. 

“You are not the right one either,” said the prince. “Have you no other daughter?”

The girl’s heel, meat cut off from the rusted knife mother forced into her hand, pulsed like a ticking clock. Realizing his mistake in judgement once again, the prince signaled to the horses to turn the carriage around, back towards the family’s home, in search for the one who fits the golden shoe.

            “You stupid wench,” step-mother sneered. “How can you truly believe you can show your face at the prince’s ball if you have no dress and cannot dance? You may go if you clean all of the house.” Cinderella obeyed her dastardly step-mother, but wept as she left. She ran to the Hazel tree that hung over her mother’s grave and struggled to stop her crying. The little white pigeons that had always helped her in her times of turmoil fluttered about her fed, puffy face. “You tame creatures and all birds beneath the sky, come and help me.”

            The toe cut off by the rusted knife mother had put into her hand lay white on the sparkling floor at home. “There is no need to walk when you are a queen,” the reason had been. The eldest daughter’s throbbing foot pulsed like a ticking clock, irritated skin seen from the exposed area of her foot. Blood dripped from the self-inflicted mutilation, onto the white carriage floor. Realizing he had taken a false bride, the prince signaled to the horses to turn the carriage around, towards the family’s home. 

            Birds and small animals from throughout the woods appeared at Cinderella’s window. The white pigeons held a gold dress, the foxes a pair of gold shoes. The mice and chipmunks helped clean the house, sweeping the ash into dustpans, and scrubbing the white floors until they sparkled like Cinderella’s eyes. “Oh, thank you so much,” Cinderella wept. Step-mother would haveto let Cinderella go, for the house gleamed. “Clean again,” step-mother ordered. “You will never be allowed go, no matter how much you clean.” Cinderella wept once again. She could find no happiness no matter what she did to appease her step-mother. Always fearful of punishment, Cinderella never strayed from step-mother’s rule. However the dream of true love crept like vines into her mind, taking hold of her spirit, and convinced Cinderella that she must follow her heart.

            Cinderella drew her foot from the large wooden shoes that often slipped from her feet, and delicately stepped into the gold shoe the prince held before her. A perfect fit. Looking up into Cinderella’s face, the prince exclaimed, “This must be the true bride!” Recognizing Cinderella as the beautiful woman he had danced with at the ball, the prince realized he had found his true love.  

A most beautiful woman stood out from the crowd. Wearing a golden dress and golden shoes, the woman seemed to glow with the promise of true love. The prince danced with the woman all night. Golden shoes tapped delicately with each step taken; and with each step taken, the prince fell further and further in love with the mysterious, gold-shoed woman. Cinderella’s trance was broken with the ticking of the old clock when midnight had come. In fear of the punishment she may endure if she had not returned home before her step-sisters, she rushed from the ballroom, leaving behind a single golden shoe.