If the Shoe Fits Her (1-3)

"It fits!" she shrieked.
The look on her face could frighten small animals into hiding- though I supposed it was an expression of happiness. The prince stared at my step-sister's face, his countenance reflecting the combined disbelief and disgust that I myself was feeling.
The man who had come with the prince cleared his throat;
"Er-- your highness, it seems that we have found your mysterious maiden. Should we not take your... ahem...lovely bride back to the palace?"
My step-sister shrieked again with delight and fell into a fit of maniacal giggles.
"Um..." the prince began. He gulped, and then his noble training became evident;
"Yes, of course we should. My lady," he said graciously as he offered her his hand. "Please, come with us back to the palace."
She took his offered hand and then turned to the rest of us with an unpleasant smirk. It was then that her own sister recovered from her shock and began to protest;
"Your majesty, wait! The shoe is mine. She only wore it for the ball."
The prince turned his head and smiled politely;
"I'm sorry, my lady. We sought to find the one the shoe fit. The shoe did not fit you." With that, he turned away and left.
As the couple entered their carriage, my poor excluded step-sister let out a scream of rage and despair. Her mother ran to her and began to try to comfort her. I only stood, stricken still by what had just transpired. You see, no one knew the truth, save a few small animals and my conveniently absent fairy godmother. No one knew the sparkling glass shoe was mine.

 

****

 

When the wedding invitation arrived it inspired another bout of screaming and crying. My step-mother managed to assuage her daughter's evident grief by promising new clothes for the wedding. Naturally, I was ignored, but it was really how I preferred things to be. While their attentions were diverted elsewhere I could focus on distracting myself from my own sadness. As I cleaned and cooked and did the household chores I tried not to feel sorry for myself. I told my angry heart that it was better this way. Although my step-sister was spoiled and unkind, she was better suited to life in a palace. She would look natural in fine clothes and expensive jewelry. I, on the other hand, would look like a vulture pretending to be a swan if I attempted to don such fancy things.
I sighed- one of many I heaved these days. No matter how I tried to convince myself, I could never believe she deserved the prince more than I did. She had never spoken to him, except for the few seconds at the ball when he was introduced to her. The hours I'd spent with him that night talking and joking and dancing were the best hours I'd ever experienced in my young life. Had I not had to be home at midnight I would have gladly stayed at the ball all night with my prince. No. Not my prince. He was getting married to someone else-- someone who loved him for his great wealth and power. Someone who wore the same size shoes as I did.

 

****

 

I could not help but inwardly laugh when my step-sister pranced out in her new wedding-going clothes. Never had I seen so many plumes, ruffles, and bows in one place. For her part, she looked as pleased as if she were the one getting married, instead of her tragically lucky sister.
"Mother, I need an attendant."
My step-mother and I wore twin masks of confusion at this statement.
"Dear, why--" her mother began.
"All the fine ladies have them, Mother! I need one to carry my train and fan me and everything."
Her mother began to stammer;
"But--but I thought the dress--and--and the hat--I mean, darling, I really can't afford--"
"I suppose I cannot go then, Mother. I'd be the laughingstock of the whole affair. Imagine-- the sister of the bride arriving with not even a little maid to attend her! It would be shameful, Mother-- just shameful!"
At this, she fell into a chair, weeping pitifully.
Her mother stood beside her trying desperately to comfort her. Then her eyes fell on me. I could almost see the idea forming in her mind.
"Cinderella," she said. "Go and put on one of the girls' outgrown gowns. You will attend my daughter at the wedding."
I must have looked wary--indeed, I was-- because she narrowed her eyes at me and ordered;
"Do it NOW, Cinderella."
Rather than risk her quickly rising anger I turned to obey. As I left the room I heard my step-mother croon;
"Anything to make you happy, my darling."
And so I was off to the wedding of the man I loved and my wicked step-sister. Anthing would have made ME happier.

Reviews

[MR_BERG]

Cinderella in the first person, and with an ugly twist. I hope you sit down and finish what you started.

You use an excellent starting point for your story with the shoe fitting. Frankly, it always bothered me to think that Cinderella was the only woman in a whole kingdom to wear that size of shoe.