Once upon a time in a small, remote village far, far away, there was a dashing man whose beloved wife was withering away on her death bed. Sad and broken, his only condolence in life was his lovely daughter, Cinderella. She was always kind to whoever crossed her path, and she would not harm any living creature. Cinderella had golden hair and large, doleful eyes that soothed anybody who talked to her. She was as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside.

Cinderella’s wise father knew that one day, his gentle daughter would be married to a prince, for that is to whom her beauty was worthy. Deep in the back of his mind, however,, he knew that her marrying would leave him happy, but quite alone. So he chose, (rather rashly,) an exquisite maiden to marry, who was beautiful on the outside but certainly not on the inside. She had raven black hair and sharp, green eyes. Her name was, (as Cinderella called her,) Stepmother,, and so Cinderella and her father moved in with wealthy Stepmother and her two daughters, gruesomely named Anastasia and Drizella. They did not inherit their mother’s beauty, but they did inherit her icy heart, which jumped with evil excitement whenever an unsuspecting Cinderella fell upon their ugly gaze. They disgustingly enjoyed poking “fun” at Cinderella, calling her a “fat pig” and “ugly as a smushed elephant”.

Cinderella’s only comfort in her dismal life was her loving father and the fluffy cat.

One day, however, tragedy struck when Cinderella’s father died suddenly of a heart attack. Stepmother had been pestering him for days on end, and the pressure had gotten the better of him. Cinderella cried for days, and locked herself and the cat in her tiny attic room. She missed her father terribly, and felt alone and scared. She knew that without her father to intervene, Stepmother would be worse than ever. Cinderella was right.

A day after the funeral, (during which Stepmother, Anastasia and Drizella did not shed a tear,) Stepmother gave Cinderella an old, dusty apron and a stained handkerchief and told her to clean the mansion. From that day on, Cinderella became the poor servant of Stepmother, Anastasia and Drizella. She mopped the floors, dusted the statues, washed the windows, wrung the clothes, ironed the curtains, cooked the meals, and tended to the livestock and the cat. She woke up at dawn and went to bed, exhausted, at midnight. Despite these trials, Cinderella always wore a happy smile upon her lovely face.

She dreamed of a better life, however, when she could be free and away from Stepmother and her evil stepsisters. She clung to that dream whenever her arms ached from washing and her back ached from mopping. She clung to that dream with the everlasting hope that it would someday come true.

One day, about a year after the death of her father, Cinderella was making sandwiches when a loud knock sounded from the large oak door.
“Who is it?” She called through the peephole.

“A message,” an official sounding voice said, “From the royal family!”
“Oh!” Cinderella muttered, and hastened to open to door.
A short man with an equally short mustache stood holding out a cream-colored scroll, tied with a red ribbon. He cleared his throat and unrolled the scroll: “A message from the royal family: All eligible women of appropriate age are invited to a Grand Ball at the castle two days from now, on the first of April. It is at this ball where the prince will choose his bride. Good day.”
Cinderella stood, shocked, as the little man waddled to the off-white carriage that stood on the end of the walkway.
“Stepmother!” She shrieked, all fears gone for a moment. She dropped the knife she had been using to cut the sandwiches and flew up the winding staircase to Stepmother’s lavish bedroom, where Stepmother was napping.
“Stepmother,” Cinderella yelped again, throwing open the door to Stepmother’s room. Stepmother lay on her elegant bed, a damp towel over her shrewd eyes. She jumped in her slumber, awakened by Cinderella’s shrieks.
“What?” She muttered, throwing the towel aside and sitting up. “What is it, girl?”
Cinderella adjusted her apron as she said, “Stepmother, a man from the castle was just here. There’s to be a grand ball two days from today, on the first of April!”
All thoughts of sleep gone, Stepmother said, “Oh, really? Did the man say who was invited?”
Cinderella nodded nervously, saying, “He said, ‘all eligible women of appropriate age’…oh, Stepmother, please may I go?”
Stepmother seemed to be considering this when Anastasia and Drizella ran, panting, into the lavish bedroom. They had been eavesdropping.
“Mother!” Drizella shouted, “What in the world will we wear?”
“It just must be something pink,” Anastasia said, wiping a bead of sweat off her blushed forehead. “Pink and fluffy!”
They squealed, rather loudly. Cinderella winced.
“Girls! Girls!” Stepmother growled, rubbing her forehead. They put their hands over their mouths, giggling, staring at a quiet Cinderella standing, alone, in the far corner of the room.
“Cinderella,” Stepmother said quietly. She said Cinderella’s name like it was a particularly disgusting medicine sliding down her throat. Cinderella stepped forward from the shadows. “Stepmother,” she said again, “please may I attend the ball?”
Cinderella’s beautiful eyes stared directly into Stepmother’s.
“Yes, you may go,” Stepmother said quietly. Anastasia and Drizella groaned.
“What about me?” Anastasia whined.
“And what about me?” Drizella moaned.
“Girls!” Stepmother said again, and they remained silent. “Yes, Cinderella, you may go the ball-if you mop all the floors in the house, wash all the windows, beat all the carpets, sweep the kitchen, milk the cows, gather the chicken eggs, dust the Grandfather Clock and the Piano, polish all the silver, clean all the rooms, and,” she said tartly, “find a suitable gown.”
It felt as if a dark raincloud was pouring above Cinderella’s head. All hope of attending the ball had disappeared after Stepmother said “find a suitable gown”.
Cinderella’s stepsister’s heads swerved towards Cinderella in twisted anticipation.
“I’ll do it,” Cinderella said, surprised by her own daring. She stood up a little taller.
Stepmother didn’t flinch in the slightest.

Cinderella exited the bedroom and hurried down the winding stairs. She was determined to go to that ball-and she would do anything to make it there on time.

Cinderella did exactly as Stepmother said-She mopped, washed, swept, dusted, and cleaned for hours during the two days before the ball. Her back ached and she almost fell asleep while milking the cow. Despite her near-impossible amount of chores, Cinderella designated some time each night to work on her dress. It was lilac with little flowers sewn into the fabric. It looked wonderful, and even Cinderella, (Who was never vain,) thought she looked lovely in it. The night of the ball finally came, and Cinderella just finished her last chore. Humming excitedly, she entered her room.

She gasped.

Her dress, (which had previously hung inside her tattered wardrobe,) was strewn on the ground, ripped to shreds. Tears burned Cinderella’s eyes-all her hard work, wasted. All those nights spent dreaming of the ball and of her taste of freedom-never to come true. As she gently picked the shreds off the floor, she bitterly wondered who would do such a thing. Who, she thought, would deliberately stop her from going to the-

“Anastasia! Drizella!” She screamed, throwing the shreds to the ground and tearing from her little room. Something inside of her had collapsed-she didn’t feel sad, or sorry, or stupid. She felt angry.

They were in their own room, Anastasia trying to tie a sash around Drizella’s plump waist. When they saw Cinderella’s expression, they laughed out loud.

“Did you like your dress? We fixed it for you. It looks much better now,” Anastasia said between gasps of laughter. Drizella couldn’t even talk, she was laughing so hard.
“How-how-dare you!” Cinderella choked out, her cheeks a flushed pink. Anastasia and Drizella stopped laughing.
“Excuse me?” Anastasia said. Drizella nodded in agreement.
“You heard me!” Cinderella growled. She really was very angry. “You two are the most vile-the most disgusting people I have ever had to come in contact with!” Cinderella shrieked. It was at this moment when Stepmother walked briskly into the room.
“What is going on in here?”
Drizella’s lip quivered.
“Oh, mother, Cinderella didn’t finish her dress in time, so she blamed her laziness on us!” She cried, a phony set of tears sliding down her cheeks. Stepmother raised her eyebrows.
“Cinderella, I hope you remember our agreement.”
“I-I do!” Cinderella said loudly, pointing at her stepsisters. “They’re lying!”
“No, Cinderella’s lying!”
“Enough!” Stepmother said harshly. Everyone fell silent. She turned towards Cinderella.
“Cinderella, you did not uphold your word. You will stay here while your sister’s and I go to the ball. You are not to leave this house, do you understand me?”
Cinderella nodded miserably.
“Good. I expect there to be tea waiting for us when we return. Come, girls.”
And with that, Stepmother, Anastasia and Drizella smugly left the room, leaving Cinderella very much alone.

Cinderella couldn’t take the sickly sight of her stepsister’s bedroom walls any longer. She sprinted out of the back door and into the garden. It was a warm night, and she saw lights twinkle in the moonlight from the castle in the distance. She knew that all the young women in the town were there, except for her. Never before, (except for when her father died,) had she felt so hopeless.
She sat upon a nearby bench, and put her head in her hands.
“Don’t cry, dearie. Everything will be alright.”
Cinderella jumped.
There was an old woman standing not far from where Cinderella sat. She wore a dark blue cloak and held a thin stick with a bright star on the end of it.
“Who are you?” Cinderella stuttered.
“I,” the woman she gracefully, “am your Fairy Godmother. It is my job to make all your dreams come true.”
“I have a dream,” Cinderella said, “but it will never come true.”
“Never say never,” the Fairy Godmother said lightly.
“Well…I wish to go the ball,” Cinderella said quickly, “but that wish is extremely selfish, and I don’t deserve for it to come true.”
“If anyone deserves a wonderful night at the Grand Ball, it’s you, Cinderella,” Fairy Godmother said. “Now-fetch me the largest and best pumpkin you possess, along with five mice.”
It took a while, but Cinderella finally uprooted the largest pumpkin she could find and chased down, (with the help of the cat,) five mice. With a wave of her magic wand, Fairy Godmother turned the pumpkin into an elegant carriage and the five mice into pure white horses. Cinderella gasped.
“Thank you,” she said, turning towards her Fairy Godmother. “But I’m afraid I have nothing to wear. My only dress was ripped to shreds.”
With a flourish of Fairy Godmother wand, Cinderella’s tattered dress and apron was magically turned into a beautiful, light blue ball gown, complete with two pairs of delicate glass slippers.
“This is wonderful,” Cinderella exclaimed, twirling around the garden in it. Fairy Godmother smiled, and said, “Now, Cinderella. You mustn’t allow yourself to get carried away. Remember to be home by midnight on the dot. If not, your carriage will turn back into a pumpkin and your horses into mice, and your dress into an apron.”
Cinderella nodded happily and climbed into the carriage, shouting her thanks all the way down the lane until Fairy Godmother was a sparkling dot that soon disappeared into the wind.

The prince was unhappy at the ball. All the women who attended were beautiful, but none of them seemed to possess a real love of humanity and life…until he saw Cinderella.
She was late, and all heads turned in her direction as she entered. Nobody recognized her.
The prince wove his way through the crowd of gawking young ladies until he found himself face to face with Cinderella. He asked her to dance, and she accepted. Neither of them danced with anyone else the rest of the night. It was love at first sight. Cinderella never wanted to leave, and she forgot all about Fairy Godmother’s warning. Suddenly, the clock struck midnight. The warning plopped into her mind, and she fled from the castle.
“Wait!” yelled the Prince, who didn’t even know Cinderella’s name. “Wait!”
“I’m terribly sorry!” she cried. “I wish I could stay!”
She hurried down the long flight of steps. In her haste to leave, one of her glass slippers tumbled off her foot. She stumbled, losing her balance. The Prince yelled in fright as Cinderella bounced down the flight of steps. Her world went black.

Cinderella didn’t know where she was.
She tried to sit up, but she didn’t have the strength. She plopped back down onto an extremely comfortable feather pillow. She tried to look around without turning her head.

The walls were creamy-white, with a red border around the top where the walls met the ceiling.

“Where am I?” She said out loud.

A slumped figure in the corner jumped, and upon seeing Cinderella awake hurried to her side. It was the Prince.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked worriedly. He put his hand over hers. “You had quite a fall last night.”

Cinderella’s foot ached, and she suddenly remembered the night before.

Fairy Godmother. The Ball. The Prince. The glass slippers.

The glass slippers!

She tried to raise her leg, to see her shoes. Sure enough, the glass slippers were gone-just her normal, brown sandals. She groaned.
“Don’t worry,” the Prince said. “We have the slipper. Funny thing, though. The other shoe just…disappeared. But that doesn’t matter,” He said. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I had a wonderful time at the ball.”

“So did I,” Cinderella said quietly. “It was the best night of my life.”

She couldn’t believe that the previous night had even happened. She had felt so loved, so happy…so free.

But she knew that she had to tell the truth about Stepmother, Anastasia, and Drizella. Unfortunately, Cinderella knew she had to tell the Prince who she really was.

“I’m not wealthy,” she said quietly. “I’m a servant.”

She waited for his face to contort, for him to say “oh” and leave the room.

But he did nothing of the sort.

“I don’t care,” He said passionately. “I love you for you…” He trailed off.

“Cinderella,” she said.

“Cinderella,” he repeated. And the next day, (after her foot surgery,) Cinderella married the prince, and she never had to see Stepmother’s evil face ever again.

And she and the prince lived happily ever after.