Cinders

CINDERS

Cinders lay crumpled on the floor, her body shaking as her sobs filled
her room.

Why wasn't she stronger? It had been nigh on six years since her father
had passed away. A huge man, she had watched him whither ever since her
natural mother had departed this world four years earlier.

He had become disillusioned and angry with the world after that,
perhaps that reflected in his choice of a new wife, herself a bitter
hateful woman. This thing had two offspring, which must of come from a
liaison with the devil himself. Slowly Cinders new stepmother had
destroyed her new husband. Like a mantis she first took his head but
the body still continued, until finally that too gave in.

Cinders had cried every day since then. Her sole guardian began to
treat her like a slave whilst her stepsisters were envious of her
natural charm and beauty. To compare Cinders to their fangs, horns and
warts was like comparing a simple rose to a choking ragwort.

Still she cried, her skin un-thickened to the hurtful remarks, the
slaps and the abuse. Why wasn't it only this morning that she had sung
as the sun arose, impossibly cheery as the grey winters light filled
her room. She made breakfast for her stepfamily, her lithe body
recuperating from the fresh crop of bruises.
The screams from the waking harlots did not bend her, even when
Hortense, the youngest stepsister, had flung scalding tea at Cinders
accusing her of trying to burn her. Wordlessly she had carried on with
the chores Prunella, the stepmother, had dished out to her, along with
the slap on her face that still glowed. Cinders showed no reaction to
Drizella, the worst of the sisters, as she had kicked her as they
passed on the stairs. But now the only sound in the house is the quiet
sobbing of this poor beautiful wretch, half starved and beaten but
perhaps now broken?

It was early that afternoon when the sound of the letterbox, snapping
the arrival of a single letter onto the floor begging to be opened, had
given Cinders her first glimmer of freedom in years. Cinders had
dutifully taken it two her stepmother who read it out in her hissing
tones. There was to be a party, a celebration of the money granted from
the prince's trust to projects in the local area, and everyone was to
attend that very evening.

Her stepsisters had cackled with delight and began their plans to
capture some poor souls heart. If only they could see through the
layers of makeup they would understand that the only way they could
ever capture anyone's heart was if they cut it still beating from their
chest.
Cinders had spoke quietly at first "This means I can go too" Her mother
hissing out her reply "What" amazed that Cinders had dared to speak
"You have the impertinence to speak to me".
Cinders stood strong and boldly said, "I am part of this house and I
will go to the ball". She never saw the punch coming but when it
connected she doubled over in pain, Hortense and Drizella were in like
vultures kicking at her head and body.

"You're not going anywhere" phlegm spaying as Drizella screamed into
Cinders ear. "Your never leaving this house, not alive anyway".
Hortense finished the beating with a boot to the face splitting Cinders
lip and spraying blood over the floor. The three bitches then dragged
her limp body to her room throwing her onto the cold stone floor and
locking the door.
Cinders tears washed streaks on her bloody and battered face for now
she knew she would never escape, this life was worthless. She didn't
understand why they were so vicious. When they had sold her fathers
mansion and moved into a small detached house it had upset her more
than them, they had gone back to their old ways drinking nightly and
grabbing strangers of the streets to sate their sexual desires, there
was still a trickle of seedy characters arriving at the house, Cinders
knew this as she washed the stains from the bed sheets daily.
None of this surely deserved the beating she would receive, the mental
abuse, belittling her at every opportunity and the more she failed to
respond the harder they hit.

Now the house was quiet and dark, Cinders abandoned in her room.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, she felt surrounded by a
brilliant light, somewhere between awake and this dream, the pain from
her split lip disappeared she looked down at her own naked body
wondering where her own rags had gone. Realising the pain had
dissipated she began to skip and laugh. The muscle definition had
returned, she felt revitalised.
Cinders began to wonder what it would have been like to go to the
Prince's trust party, she imagined the expensive dress she would have
worn, god she would have looked good. She would have spent hours on her
make up and hair, there wouldn't have been a man in the place who head
would not have turned. Cinders would have gone up to the most handsome
man in the whole room??
What would he have looked like? Got to have a bow tie and tux,
something that would have belied his muscular frame, short spiky hair
and blue eyes. Yeah like out of a movie. Clich?d it didn't matter, they
would dance the night away.
She would feel the evil gaze of her stepfamily every time she glided
past them, time slipping by unnoticed. Then this handsome, and rich,
might as well have a few quid, man would draw her close to him and they
would kiss. It would be long and passionate a kiss so sweet that
everyone would watch and wish that they had ever kissed like
that.
Somewhere in the background the clock chimed out its first ominous
tone.
But something nagged at her that she should leave, she would have to
end the kiss and flee, after a few strides one of her fancy glass
stilettos fell off. Hesitating about picking it up she decided to leave
it lying there. Shouting, "I'm sorry" as she pulled off the other one
and sprinted barefoot into the gardens. The clock continued to chime,
people called out, but she had to get home as fast as she could. Did
her life depend on it? what sort of nightmare was this turning
too?

The brilliant light surrounded her again and she fell down blinded.
When Cinders awoke she lay on the cold stone floor of her room, her
rags still around her and her face still bloody and battered. She leapt
to try her door but it was still locked.
Many hours later the door to the house opened and the three harpies
returned. They spoke of the mysterious money-grabbing bitch that all
the men had wanted to dance with, no one else had stood a chance.
Drizzella strode to Cinders room her whole body tense determined to
take out her terrible night on Cinders poor body.
Drizzella burst through the door and stepped into a slowly growing pool
of blood, Cinders lifeless body lay in the middle of the floor blood
still oozing from the cuts across her wrists the broken shard of mirror
telling its tale of woe lay beside he.

She had finally escaped.