Cinderella could feel her back begin to ache as she washed the floors by hand. The mansion she now cleaned had been her father’s mansion before her stepmother poisoned his tea. Her stepmother had convinced her father’ s old solicitors that Cinderella was too young to take care of the mansion when she was twelve-years-old. The vile woman had claimed Cinderella’s home for herself and her two spoiled daughters Giselle and Monique.
Cinderella wouldn’t legally be able to have the mansion back until she was married or twenty-five-years-old. She knew her stepmother wouldn’t allow either to occur. Her only hope was to be able to have enough money to afford the solicitor her stepmother had offended.
Her stepmother had refused to marry a well-known solicitor after Cinderella’s father had passed. She knew he was the only one who would take a servant’s case to get back at the stepmother. Until then, Cinderella’s jailor would keep the house and Cinderella as a slave working in it.
She finished washing the floor pleased as they shined. Then, her homely stepsisters walked across it with muddy shoes. When one tripped, both Giselle and Monique began to hit Cinderella. She pushed them away and they kept walking, calling her names. She had to rewash some spots on the floor but she didn’t care. Cinderella had a secret and it was going to free her from the tyranny of her stepmother and stepsisters.
A lonely beggar wandering past the front gate had seen Cinderella crying last night. She had
wanted to attend the ball and with the beggar’s surprising magic powers, he had granted Cinderella’s wish. She realized, however, the beggar wouldn’t be granting this wish without thinking about his own well-being. She could see he was a crafty man and wondered what he was up to, why he would grant her such a request.
He’d created a beautiful frothy blue gown for Cinderella to wear with the most stunning diamond high heels she’d ever seen; Cinderella had a thing for gorgeous shoes. They were so wonderful Cinderella asked if she could keep them after the night ended. The beggar had agreed with a mischevious smile.
Cinderella had a purpose in keeping her diamond heels. She had planned to sneak out of the house in one of her mother’s old dresses and sell her priceless heels to higher the solicitor who so despised her stepmother. She wanted the mansion and what was left of her father’s fortune, especially her sizable dowry, which her stepmother couldn’t get at no matter how hard she tried.
Moreover, Cinderella’s stepmother didn’t know about the money her father had illegally acquired on the black market. It was hidden away in offshore accounts only Cinderella knew about. She couldn’t access them until the day after the ball which was her twenty-fifth birthday.
Cinderella had attended the ball and knew the prince liked her as soon as he saw her. There was a glint in his blue eyes and he had this charming lopsided grin. She hadn’t meant to let him go so far with her — but then they did.
“I really like you,” he told Cinderella, “You’re much more fun those other girls who want to be my wife but won’t put out. Plus, you’re intelligent and make me laugh. Most of the other girls are too scared they will appear unladylike.” She’d giggled surprised at his comment and Cinderella found herself liking him.
She gave the prince a playful punch. He was entertaining but she knew she’d never see him again. Cinderella gazed up at him and said, “Look, this is a one-time thing and that’s all you’re about all going to get from me because I have a curfew. I’m not allowed out often.”
“I’m ‘the prince,’ I can overrule your curfew or any other rules your father has.”
Cinderella sighed, “Sorry, you can’t. I mean it, I have to leave.” Cinderella ran off
before her gown disintegrated and she was left in rags. She swore when she realized only one of her diamond heels had been lost. She’d left one behind while running from the prince but she needed both of them to afford the solicitor. Frustrated she went home and cried herself to sleep.
Then, the prince announced the following day, every young woman in the kingdom needed to try on the diamond heel left behind by the girl he desired above all others.
Cinderella rolled her eyes because she thought the prince was daft. Many women in the kingdom could have the same size feet. She thought about her missing shoe and the beggar, how she was sure he’d been up to something when he granted her wish. She thought the shoes might only fit her feet due to the beggars magic.
The beggar knew Cinderella valued the shoes above all and that’s why he let her keep them. It was strange she would lose track of such beautiful shoes because she loved them so much and had never had shoes this nice before. She knew the crafty beggar had to be responsible for her lost shoe. He probably made the prince fall for her and so that she wouldn’t be able to return to her plan, to sell the shoes and retain her birthright. The beggar had seen the shrewd woman beneath her simple wish.
Cinderella had only been interested in going to the ball because as she was cleaning outside, she recognized the beggar was a powerful wizard in hiding, who had the power to grant wishes. She hadn’t sought to meet the prince but to be provided with a beautiful dress and shoes she could sell to escape. She was upset about ending up with only one diamond heel.
The following week the prince and his servants arrived at the mansion. Her stepmother tried to lock her in a closet but Cinderella had hated her stepmother for many years. She’d had enough of her tyranny and punched the old bat, knocking her out then stuffing her in the closet.
Cinderella hurried down the stairs in one of her mother’s old day dresses. She interrupted Giselle and Monique trying with all their might to jam the shoe on their chubby feet. Cinderella feared her beloved shoe would shatter.
“Careful that’s a diamond shoe,” she cried bringing out the shoe’s twin, slipping both shoes on, doing up the straps, and parading around in them both for the prince to see. He was confused a moment because Cinderella appeared out of place in her outdated dress but he had her brought closer to him by a servant.
The prince gazed into her face and then moved her long hair out of the way to find the tattoo of a bluebird on her upper back. He declared she was the girl from the ball and she would be his new mistress.
“I’m delighted to see you again,” he said to her with a flirtatious raise of his brows. “You’d be the perfect bride but I’m guessing you have little wealth or dowry to go along with your shoes. On the other hand, you’re much less maintenance than any other girl who nearly fit your shoe.”
Cinderella huffed and being as polite as she could, asked to speak to the prince in private. She explained her entire situation to him concerning her stepmother. She told him how priceless her shoes were, that the mansion was legally hers, and that she had a large dowry along with whatever money her stepmother hadn’t used from her father’s wealth; it turned out to be a lot, more than her stepmother had ever realized. Cinderella smirked, it was so like her father to hide more of his money.
Consulting his advisors, the prince decided Cinderella would make a fantastic bride who would add considerable wealth to his kingdom. He sent for the bishop and they were married immediately. A large public wedding followed months later and the stepmother was forced to retire to the countryside.
The prince was generous and gave Cinderella her father’s mansion (with the
deed in her own name) as a wedding present. He married her sisters Gisele and Monique off to two of his dullest cousins but kept their dowries for himself.
He didn’t know about the money hidden in offshore accounts by Cinderella’s father and she decided not to tell him. She was no idiot and decided that every woman, even a princess, needed ‘get away’ money.
The prince was pleased with Cinderella and was happy to have found a princess who was fun and learned quickly. She was smart and helped him increase the value of his kingdom by increasing taxation on the peasants and middle class. Unfortunately, a revolution broke out in the country around the same time, disturbing their happiness. The king and queen were beheaded along with many other nobles.
Cinderella had grown fond of the prince, she was certain she loved him. They
had two twin girls together and it was lucky Cinderella had kept secret the money in her father’s offshore accounts. She used the money to escape to the US and start a new life with her family. The prince wasn’t upset Cinderella had hidden the money. He praised her for being shrewd and prepared for an emergency situation he hadn’t foreseen.
Life was rougher in the US but the money Cinderella had kept hidden allowed the prince to become the owner of several factories and make his way in business, mass-producing expensive shoes of all kinds for woman and men. Cinderella helped him design shoes woman paid hundreds and thousands of dollars to own.
Their twin daughters married well and a century later the Prince’s ancestors would bring out Cinderella’s diamond heels, showing them off as precious heirlooms. In the end, she hadn’t had to sell her diamond heels. Cinderella was allowed to keep them before they married in public. She’d told the prince, “Promise me we never have to sell my diamond heels. If we do I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”
The prince knew Cinderella was a savvy woman who could easily slip away and by then he loved her more than he wanted to admit; he granted her request. He learned that day and later taught his grandsons in America, “Nothing comes between a woman and her shoes.” And that’s how Cinderella and her prince lived happily ever after.
Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting 100 Word Wednesdays.
Sweet dark chocolate slides across my tongue, the richness of chocolate icing soft and creamy; the moist cake, competing for flavour with the icing. It’s sweetness allows one to eat it slowly. Too much cake at once would ruin the experience and leave me with an upset stomach. But each bite savoured with pleasure and a bit of vanilla ice cream, ensures my scrumptious chocolate cake is a heavenly experience.
Across the table you wink, you knew it was my favourite cake and you ordered it for me. Our eyes hold as you eat your own cake and I absorb every ounce of chocolate flavour in mine; eating cake becomes seduction.
Maryanne frequently found herself on the Greyhound bus travelling here, there, and everywhere. She didn’t understand what triggered the travelling gypsy in her, but she felt when she found what she was searching for, she would finally have a place of her own. She would find a decent job, have a car to drive, and most of all, have people to love in her life.
As if on que, a stray dog yipped and walked out of the alleyway nearby. While she waited an-hour-and-a-half for the bus to Raleigh, Maryanne decided the dog was indeed homeless and picked her up gently. She brought the startled mut on the bus pulling into the station and named her Betsy.
She was Maryanne’s first step towards finding a home.
Many people would react viciously if you told them they weren’t free. It’s a fundamental of democracy that every man and woman of every human race, justly has a right to liberty.
We take it for granted and we do not think, what it would be like to be locked up — to be bound with chains of tyranny, literal or figuratively; freedom is never free.
But freedom is a difficult ideal. People in society should be able to decide on their actions and make their own choices.
And people should decide who should govern them, what laws and rules limit people from ruining another’s human rights (liberties).
When you say “freedom,” people actually think it is free; they stop and forget that people fought and died in wars so we could enjoy the right to liberty today. People long for freedom in places under lock and key.
We forget that freedom isn’t about only our own freedom but the liberty of our neighbours and community members too.
We forget that since we are free to educate ourselves , and be educated, we should strive to be knowledgable; we should make informed choices.
For example, a liberty to bear arms — guns — is secondary to how available you make them and for whom. If you truly want to have a gun to defend your house, then you will jump through hoops so your rights do not infringe on other people’s rights to live.
You will follow all the steps the law says you need to do to have a gun even though they are aggravating, because you want your children safe at school and you want your friends and family safe at work, or at a shopping mall.
In the subject of freedom we are negligent (because we have had it so long without are world falling to chaos) because it is only free if you limit it.
You must say you are free to do ‘this’ but not ‘that’ because you are infringing on the freedom of other people.
For this reason, where I live: we eliminated smoking in bars and public places. Because people have a right to breath clean air and not be subjected to second hand smoke which can cause cancer.
If you smoke you are free to do so but not if it is going to affect my liberty to breathe, too not be allergic to the air.
You can do it in certain areas where there are places to put out your cigarettes, or in your own home if your certain you must.
And you can wear a head set while driving a vehicle, instead of driving one-handed. You can tell your phone ” Siri, text Allison and tell her I’m going for a beer after work, ” instead of removing your eyes from the road and using your fingers to text.
And now we are losing demerits for distracted driving. No putting on mascara or lipstick while you are driving. No looking for something you can’t find or eating a burger either. It’s harsh, but people are dying.
You are infringing on people’s saftey when you drive distractedly. You think you are free to drive how you like, but an old lady thinks she is free and safe to walk across the road while you search your phone, your eyes not on the road.
Not every one follows law and order, the price of freedom, of our liberty. It’s the purpose of jail. Why we spend so much on prisons, why in some countries people are sentenced to die; are we truly free to say someone’s life should be forfeit?
People change. That doesn’t make up for the pain of the victims or their families or the crime. But the fact that people can educate themselves, find God, show remorse, and better themselves makes me think it is better to let God decide who lives and dies.
He is after all the ultimate judge and executioner. The freedom to give and take life as you please, that scares me. It is something that happens in places with no freedom. In places where people are suffering and dying needlessly.
And because people don’t follow laws here, they act to protect their freedom and they sue each other, and do awful and thoughtless things.
And some companies can be pretty corporate at the bottom line when it comes to thinking of the individual employee’s liberties.
What freedom, do the mentally ill have? When the common person knows so little about mental illness, to help them. When people don’t understand them or make an effort to. What about freedom of acceptance?
What about freedom of speech? Does it change your view of the person talking normally if you know he is bipolar? Or if he does is job year after year but has a bit of break down. Or if he is an alcoholic or a crime victim.
And what of the freedom to live, we can take this two ways. Should you have the freedom to healthcare you can’t afford? Isn’t a human life worth it? What if your health plan doesn’t cover a new medical procedure?
But Doctors need to be paid and new ones trained. There are nurses and interns and the people from the lab. What about their right to make a living? Does it out – weigh your right to live? Haven’t we decided that we shouldn’t be choosing who lives and who dies?
But it changes up a little when you are dying and nothing can save you. When you are in horrific pain because of a physical disease. Think of ALS and Tuesday’s with Morrie or cancer in your bones or in your blood.
Miracles can happen. But if you are the one choosing and it is your life, shouldn’t you have access to drugs, or some humane way to die. To not leave this life so torn apart that everyday is an agony and pain is a mantra.
I don’t know what I’d do but I think I might like to go out with a little of me left in me. I don’t want to be a person with no freedom because she is forced to live and suffer. A person who had no freedom because disease stole it from her.
I think the concept of freedom is quite deceptive. Initially, it appears harmless but when you dig deeper you see that it has teeth, a tale, and Jurassic World T-Rex hybrid eyes and teeth.
Liberty, is a hugely complex subject. It seems so simple when we’re only dying for it. But to uphold a society of freedom, means not everbody is completely free. There is give and take.
And I found that as I write, I keep becoming caught up in liberty of life. In society and their reactions in time near death, for abortions, in prisons, as you go about your day — who decides who lives and dies.
That is a freedom I think humans shouldn’t have. But we make the decisions anyways, because we have free will; sometimes, I don’t like liberty at all.
At times it’s easier to have “someone”make the decision. But that is how dictatorships start, when we stop deciding.
Here we are, the biggest problem with freedom — we must choose what freedom is, and what we will give up to be free.
Because I never heard a word from you
I assumed everything. And each day that passed at first,
The missing you hurt, there is pain in being someone’s “mine.”
As the days passed, reality returned and I stopped,
Thinking about you so much, I thought about my life
How ever piece was melded together, yet fragile as a bubble
I worked, I rested, I spent time with friends, and I shopped
For Christmas presents, scrawling sparkled cards as the days slipped by.
I waited. But I did not hear your voice and I had left phone messages.
I imagined a hundred things but mostly, that you were at work and
Punishing me somehow for something I had written beforehand,
Something I wrote in anger and shared with the world.
Tonight I decided it was time to write some words again because
You inspire me, missing you every second stirs the misery in me
And I think about the future, all the days I will spend alone.
I think if I have things to keep me busy I will be happy and yet,
The weeks pass by in lonely lentement. I decided to separate myself from you.
Keep myself to my own. Because when you’re here you’ll take me again
And I will no longer be just be my own. It’s hard being owned.
It’s a word every woman, every enslaved being detests.
But what we never really keep in mind is that we are always giving
Pieces of ourselves away to be kept safe when we trust someone.
In this way we are owned, especially by our lovers.
Those who know us deepest and can rip our hearts to pieces.
Not a word, not a word, you haven’t told me anything.
And I think that it is snowing, that you just have bad cell reception.
That the storm is keeping you away from the internet, from saying anything.
That you are not even able to call because you just can’t.
I think that your busy and that your just ignoring me because you don’t think
The order of my days is interesting, it doesn’t deserve a reply.
But excuse me for posting online these words, not in anger but in hurt.
I don’t think all this is likely, I just think you don’t want to talk to me.
That you would try to get in touch with me after a week.
And I doubt, that you’ll try next week, until the end of the week after.
Then you’ll want something, or maybe not, I do not know
My poor heart thumps uncomfortably slow
Don’t you know one word from you and I would be just fine.
I wouldn’t write emails where I wonder why you don’t talk to me.
I would live my life and be okay because I know that we are okay and that
You actually take time to think about me in your days as I think about you.
I believe you do but I don’t know what lack of communication means.
Because I am owned and then unknown I lack soul to care anymore
My mind rolls with questions, but I’ve closed the door on whether or not
You will bother to say hello this shift, I just live my own life.
And wait out the silence, I can hear my own heart beat it says be tough
And be self-reliant. It doesn’t matter that I needed your advice
It matters that I live my own life… this situation is thin as tissue paper
I crumple it into a ball, and wonder what the weeks ahead will bring.
I text too much perhaps, I write too much perhaps, I ask too much perhaps
So I will think of you and whatever you are dealing with.
Pray for you, because I do it anyways. And in the night there’s whispers, dreams of not such distance – where we are both our own and owned together.