Twisted Tales {Cinderella}
Word Count: 1,793
Title: Cinderella
Rating: PG-13...? Careful for violence?
Disclaimer: I don't own Cinderella. This VERSION... Kinda...
Cinderella
A beautiful girl who was left home with her evil stepmothers and evil step sisters was forced to slave away at the very home she lived in. Cinderella, as she was called, always covered in ashes of the fireplace she cleaned daily, soot staining her dress, her apron, her feet, was the source of her name. The young woman was beautiful. She dreamed of meeting a prince, her own Prince Charming, and be whisked away to safety away from the evils of her life. One night, her fairy godmother appeared and helped her, giving her a beautiful dress with glass slippers. A carriage from a pumpkin. She had until midnight to meet her prince and fall in love. Until midnight to be free from her slavery at what she was practically forced to call home.
She had run from the ball the fifth ring of midnight. She had run so quickly one of her slippers had fallen off. Her prince had found that shoe and searched everywhere for her. Attempting to find the girl he had sworn he fell for. The woman who fit that shoe. He had gone to absolutely every woman but none would fit. Even her step mother and step sisters had tried the slipper on. None had fit it. Cinderella stepped out from hiding - much to the other women’s disdain - and asked if she would be able to try the slipper on.
“Why would you ever fit in such a shoe?!”
Her step mother shrieked she wouldn’t fit. That it was pointless to even let her try. Much to all three’s disdain, however, the shoe was a perfect fit. The Prince brought Cinderella off, they got married, and everyone lived happily ever after…
The truth of Cinderella’s tale is one which is never pleasant to think of. Not to those who truly know what happened in her life. She grew up with her family, mother and father both so incredibly happy together. Her life began a downhill spiral when she discovered a deep, dark secret about her mother at the young age of thirteen. She had seen her mother leaving home with another man. The mere thought broke her to a violent degree. One day, the young girl had stayed up, waiting for her mother to return home from her nightly visit with that scumbag.
Her mother had walked in, confused as to what the small girl was doing awake at such an hour, about to question why, when suddenly there was a flash of baby blue and golden blonde and suddenly silver at the last moment, a sharp gasp and the elder woman stared down at the blade in her chest, unable to speak or make any noise at all. Her young daughter had taken to sitting on her stomach as the woman landed on her back, matching golden locks sprawled on the hardwood floor, harsh gasps for air from mainly the shock, eyes begging for mercy.
Ella grinned, though. She rose the blade above her head with both hands and let the silver of the blade plunge into her chest over and over again before her mother was gone, dead…
Years passed from that moment, the story of Cinderella had already begun. At a young age. Young enough to not even truly know her mother something took the woman who gave her life from this world. Her father had become a businessman. The young girl was no longer young. The father had married again. A beautiful woman with two lovely twin daughters. As well as an elder daughter who always held a smile, always got what she wanted whenever he wanted. That first killing from five years ago had still rung strong in her mind.
When it came to that eldest daughter of her step mother she couldn’t help but be jealous. Not just jealous though. She had golden blonde locks. Just like her mother, the mother she’d killed. There was a sneer that crossed her face. She would hold appearance. Until her father was gone for extended business. Until she was alone with the woman. Too much. Far too much like the mother she’d lost had been killed in horrible circumstances. That girl had never made it into the story of Cinderella, though. There was no room for three evil step sisters. No. Just two. Just two horrible… Horrible step-sisters with an evil step-mother.
The method was essentially the same. She would stab… Stab until the woman was dead. No longer a reminder of her past. Reminder of her mother. Mother who died so long ago… Though as it happened the other three had appeared at that moment of the final stab.
“Ella!”
There was a sharp gasp from the barely graying step-mother. Evil but not really. She had looked up from the body and gotten off, staring at her and dropping the knife, acting as though it was a moment of insanity and she had just snapped out of it, gasping and looking from the woman, blue hues filled with horror, to the corpse on the ground, breast covered with blood, with holes from the knife where it had plunged through. She whimpered, gaze constantly changing from one to the other.
“I-I… I didn’t mean to…!” The lie came out so smoothly, made even more powerful by the tears that formed in her eyes “I-I d-don’t know what happened… One moment we were having a-a calm, peaceful conversation an-and that’s all I remember…!”
Tears fell down the girls eyes, bright blue innocent eyes that could do no wrong. She felt the lie flew with ease from her lips, and at that moment she knew she could make her story her own. She could lie and no matter what give herself a happy ending... She sniffled, tears flowing down her eyes.
The cinder in Cinderella comes in a different way as well. She was brought to the attic that night, put there for years. Making friends with... talking to the mice. The ashes from the chimney would get everywhere. Including on her dresses that would become tattered as two years went on, her pacing, Her mind becoming lost, knew at the half year mark had passed. Her father, dead.
She spoke to the mice. The bird as they visited as they did. Not constantly but regularly enough. She would give them names, claim they were the most human like beings she had ever met. Her only friends.
After those two years, the girl hungered for human interaction, though. News had reached - accidently - that the Prince was putting on a ball. That all were invited. News that clearly was not allowed to reach her because of their voices and how the mother had hushed both daughters. The one truth was the sisters treated Cinderella with disrespect. They didn't understand what she had done.
The fact she was not allowed to know angered Cinderella. She had searched for a way out of the attic. where she was stuck. One day she had found fabric of a dress in a closet. A beautiful dress. It seemed to appear in a dream to her. A beautiful woman, one so familiar to her with golden blonde locks brought up into a loose yet still beautiful and sophisticated bun, spirals of hair flowing down the sides of her face with a soft, sad, smile.
"I'm sorry for the wrongs I have done, daughter. I've a present for you in the closet. Look for the diamond blue dress. The tiara to match..."
The glass slippers in the story were a metaphor for her mind. Her fragile mind which could have been broken. Which had already been slightly cracked.
Midnight. Just until midnight she would go to the ball. She would enjoy her night out but behave. No matter what she would behave and do nothing. Not if she saw her step sisters or step mother.
The carriage was something that truly didn't happen. Cinderella had run to the castle on her own, powder blue heels amazingly not breaking though dirt had been kicked up into the bottom of her dress. She did not care. she didn't want to bother caring either.
She had reached the ball, looked to the entire audience there. She knew there were eyes on her. She knew there were. A beautiful girl, hiding a crazed look to her eyes - the mystery - a beautiful dress, a wonderfully stunning beautiful in general. One set of eyes was set on her in a different yet similar way. She looked to see the prince staring at her with bewilderment. Shock.
The Prince was truly but a few years older than Cinderella. He had chestnut brown hair, dark eyes. Familiar. Familiar. They seemed so extremely familiar. There was confusion in the princes eyes as he took the first move, stepping toward Cinderella.
Cinderella had begun walking toward the prince as well, not noticing those eyes. Those confused eyes. Those terrified eyes. Those wise, old eyes of her step-mother. The woman who cared but not in Cinderella’s eyes. The woman who was there.
The Prince recognized the dress. Recognized the hair, the appearance. Everything but the eyes were the same as the portrait of his mother. It was impossible. There was no way as he'd heard his mother had died his mother was killed by his sister. No. Not his sister his half-sister...
The ball had gone on, Cinderella having gasped as the clock began striking the time. "I--I have to go..." She had whispered as she ran, the brunette male with the oh so familiar eyes about to tell her something. He chased her out, watching as the shoe had become lost. How her slipper had landed on the stairs. He had grabbed it, no idea where to find her until a memory occurred. A five year old him, his mother showing him the baby Ella. "Her name is Ella... She isn't your true sister but treat her like family whenever you two meet again as I'm sure the fates will pull you together."
"Ella..." He whispered, holding the slipper. He had turned to find Cinderella's step mother was there. He hadn't realized it until later that was his way of finding her. He was brought to the house, up to the attic where he heard scrambling as he reached the door, a closet door slamming as he walked into the large space.
"... You must be Ella. I've something you mother told me that I want to tell you..." He gulped before pulling a chair to explain what he knew, the shock and betrayal in those bright blue eyes being something he hadn't truly expected...
... And they all lived happily ever after...
Title: Cinderella
Rating: PG-13...? Careful for violence?
Disclaimer: I don't own Cinderella. This VERSION... Kinda...
Cinderella
A beautiful girl who was left home with her evil stepmothers and evil step sisters was forced to slave away at the very home she lived in. Cinderella, as she was called, always covered in ashes of the fireplace she cleaned daily, soot staining her dress, her apron, her feet, was the source of her name. The young woman was beautiful. She dreamed of meeting a prince, her own Prince Charming, and be whisked away to safety away from the evils of her life. One night, her fairy godmother appeared and helped her, giving her a beautiful dress with glass slippers. A carriage from a pumpkin. She had until midnight to meet her prince and fall in love. Until midnight to be free from her slavery at what she was practically forced to call home.
She had run from the ball the fifth ring of midnight. She had run so quickly one of her slippers had fallen off. Her prince had found that shoe and searched everywhere for her. Attempting to find the girl he had sworn he fell for. The woman who fit that shoe. He had gone to absolutely every woman but none would fit. Even her step mother and step sisters had tried the slipper on. None had fit it. Cinderella stepped out from hiding - much to the other women’s disdain - and asked if she would be able to try the slipper on.
“Why would you ever fit in such a shoe?!”
Her step mother shrieked she wouldn’t fit. That it was pointless to even let her try. Much to all three’s disdain, however, the shoe was a perfect fit. The Prince brought Cinderella off, they got married, and everyone lived happily ever after…
The truth of Cinderella’s tale is one which is never pleasant to think of. Not to those who truly know what happened in her life. She grew up with her family, mother and father both so incredibly happy together. Her life began a downhill spiral when she discovered a deep, dark secret about her mother at the young age of thirteen. She had seen her mother leaving home with another man. The mere thought broke her to a violent degree. One day, the young girl had stayed up, waiting for her mother to return home from her nightly visit with that scumbag.
Her mother had walked in, confused as to what the small girl was doing awake at such an hour, about to question why, when suddenly there was a flash of baby blue and golden blonde and suddenly silver at the last moment, a sharp gasp and the elder woman stared down at the blade in her chest, unable to speak or make any noise at all. Her young daughter had taken to sitting on her stomach as the woman landed on her back, matching golden locks sprawled on the hardwood floor, harsh gasps for air from mainly the shock, eyes begging for mercy.
Ella grinned, though. She rose the blade above her head with both hands and let the silver of the blade plunge into her chest over and over again before her mother was gone, dead…
Years passed from that moment, the story of Cinderella had already begun. At a young age. Young enough to not even truly know her mother something took the woman who gave her life from this world. Her father had become a businessman. The young girl was no longer young. The father had married again. A beautiful woman with two lovely twin daughters. As well as an elder daughter who always held a smile, always got what she wanted whenever he wanted. That first killing from five years ago had still rung strong in her mind.
When it came to that eldest daughter of her step mother she couldn’t help but be jealous. Not just jealous though. She had golden blonde locks. Just like her mother, the mother she’d killed. There was a sneer that crossed her face. She would hold appearance. Until her father was gone for extended business. Until she was alone with the woman. Too much. Far too much like the mother she’d lost had been killed in horrible circumstances. That girl had never made it into the story of Cinderella, though. There was no room for three evil step sisters. No. Just two. Just two horrible… Horrible step-sisters with an evil step-mother.
The method was essentially the same. She would stab… Stab until the woman was dead. No longer a reminder of her past. Reminder of her mother. Mother who died so long ago… Though as it happened the other three had appeared at that moment of the final stab.
“Ella!”
There was a sharp gasp from the barely graying step-mother. Evil but not really. She had looked up from the body and gotten off, staring at her and dropping the knife, acting as though it was a moment of insanity and she had just snapped out of it, gasping and looking from the woman, blue hues filled with horror, to the corpse on the ground, breast covered with blood, with holes from the knife where it had plunged through. She whimpered, gaze constantly changing from one to the other.
“I-I… I didn’t mean to…!” The lie came out so smoothly, made even more powerful by the tears that formed in her eyes “I-I d-don’t know what happened… One moment we were having a-a calm, peaceful conversation an-and that’s all I remember…!”
Tears fell down the girls eyes, bright blue innocent eyes that could do no wrong. She felt the lie flew with ease from her lips, and at that moment she knew she could make her story her own. She could lie and no matter what give herself a happy ending... She sniffled, tears flowing down her eyes.
The cinder in Cinderella comes in a different way as well. She was brought to the attic that night, put there for years. Making friends with... talking to the mice. The ashes from the chimney would get everywhere. Including on her dresses that would become tattered as two years went on, her pacing, Her mind becoming lost, knew at the half year mark had passed. Her father, dead.
She spoke to the mice. The bird as they visited as they did. Not constantly but regularly enough. She would give them names, claim they were the most human like beings she had ever met. Her only friends.
After those two years, the girl hungered for human interaction, though. News had reached - accidently - that the Prince was putting on a ball. That all were invited. News that clearly was not allowed to reach her because of their voices and how the mother had hushed both daughters. The one truth was the sisters treated Cinderella with disrespect. They didn't understand what she had done.
The fact she was not allowed to know angered Cinderella. She had searched for a way out of the attic. where she was stuck. One day she had found fabric of a dress in a closet. A beautiful dress. It seemed to appear in a dream to her. A beautiful woman, one so familiar to her with golden blonde locks brought up into a loose yet still beautiful and sophisticated bun, spirals of hair flowing down the sides of her face with a soft, sad, smile.
"I'm sorry for the wrongs I have done, daughter. I've a present for you in the closet. Look for the diamond blue dress. The tiara to match..."
The glass slippers in the story were a metaphor for her mind. Her fragile mind which could have been broken. Which had already been slightly cracked.
Midnight. Just until midnight she would go to the ball. She would enjoy her night out but behave. No matter what she would behave and do nothing. Not if she saw her step sisters or step mother.
The carriage was something that truly didn't happen. Cinderella had run to the castle on her own, powder blue heels amazingly not breaking though dirt had been kicked up into the bottom of her dress. She did not care. she didn't want to bother caring either.
She had reached the ball, looked to the entire audience there. She knew there were eyes on her. She knew there were. A beautiful girl, hiding a crazed look to her eyes - the mystery - a beautiful dress, a wonderfully stunning beautiful in general. One set of eyes was set on her in a different yet similar way. She looked to see the prince staring at her with bewilderment. Shock.
The Prince was truly but a few years older than Cinderella. He had chestnut brown hair, dark eyes. Familiar. Familiar. They seemed so extremely familiar. There was confusion in the princes eyes as he took the first move, stepping toward Cinderella.
Cinderella had begun walking toward the prince as well, not noticing those eyes. Those confused eyes. Those terrified eyes. Those wise, old eyes of her step-mother. The woman who cared but not in Cinderella’s eyes. The woman who was there.
The Prince recognized the dress. Recognized the hair, the appearance. Everything but the eyes were the same as the portrait of his mother. It was impossible. There was no way as he'd heard his mother had died his mother was killed by his sister. No. Not his sister his half-sister...
The ball had gone on, Cinderella having gasped as the clock began striking the time. "I--I have to go..." She had whispered as she ran, the brunette male with the oh so familiar eyes about to tell her something. He chased her out, watching as the shoe had become lost. How her slipper had landed on the stairs. He had grabbed it, no idea where to find her until a memory occurred. A five year old him, his mother showing him the baby Ella. "Her name is Ella... She isn't your true sister but treat her like family whenever you two meet again as I'm sure the fates will pull you together."
"Ella..." He whispered, holding the slipper. He had turned to find Cinderella's step mother was there. He hadn't realized it until later that was his way of finding her. He was brought to the house, up to the attic where he heard scrambling as he reached the door, a closet door slamming as he walked into the large space.
"... You must be Ella. I've something you mother told me that I want to tell you..." He gulped before pulling a chair to explain what he knew, the shock and betrayal in those bright blue eyes being something he hadn't truly expected...
... And they all lived happily ever after...