There was once a beautiful young woman of sixteen whom lived with her odious stepmother and stepsisters. Strident screeches often emanated from the stepmother's warty mouth as she reproached her stepdaughter for not perfectly scrubbing the marble walkways of her mansion home.
The stepsisters, Odisa and Bronte, lived in splendor, flaunting ostrich plumes and skirts embroidered with intricate silk designs. Their every want was tended to by none other than their abused stepsister, Adelede. She wore only the most worn and tattered of cast-offs, smears of dirt and debris perpetually streaking her apparel and skin. Adelede worked from before sunrise to the time the stars showed their glimmering faces. Then, she'd wearily begin the trek up to her attic bedroom. There, she lay down on a pile of debris, breathing the comforting earthy scent of dried leaves that were covered by a thin, rough sheet of burlap. Still, she dared not tell her sisters, for fall leaves made a softer bed than wool.
Often exhausted, she fell to sleep without taking off even her apron. Other nights, she sometimes lay, gazing at the far-away stars through the blankets of mist that covered nighttime skies. On the lonesome winter nights when cold kept her awake, she'd sing, raising a sweet, soprano voice in melodies that carried their own brand of harmony. She was often alone for hours, but kept herself company in her own ways.
Some days, she pretended she was dancing while she swept. This allowed a game to become useful as well as entertaining. She often sang herself hoarse, breaking the silence as the drafty mansion creaked on its centuries old foundation. In addition to this, she often went over sums and words in her head, memorizing what snatches she heard of her stepsisters' tutoring sessions. It caused her great grief to look upon them, realizing that they cared not a farthing for the gift of knowledge they were receiving, when she envied their opportunity greatly. She sweated over hot cooking fires in the kitchen, listening to the clamorous echoes of flute music that reverberated down the twining stone halls. If she had their fortune, she knew she'd have the sense to better herself, and at least rise to the opportunity.
One day, Odisa came running home, squealing with laughter. She had giggling fits five times a day,
but this episode seemed to stem from a cause of general interest, for she screeched much louder than usual. When she'd recovered her existing fragments of composure, she began to babble about an upcoming event: "Oh, I just got the news from Corana. She said she heard it from Delia........
the prince is hosting a bachelor's ball on his birthday! All the 'young ladies' in the kingdom are invited! We get to meet him, Bronte, oh, what shall we wear!"
At this statement, Adelede almost fell over her own feet. The prince, host a ball? Exactly how many guessts did he expect to receive? No, it was likely just a rumor started by a peasant.
Three days later, Adelede was bringing in the mail, when a scroll caught her eye. It was tied with a scarlet ribbon, the token of his Royal Majesty. It was addressed to "all the young women in my domain", so she decided it would be treason not to open it-that is, treason against her own curiosity.
Thus, she stripped open the scroll, fingering the red seal wax with awe. It was an honor to receive a message from anyone of higher class than a duchess. In a fervor of delight, she read the message, which stated exactly what her stepsister had shouted three days before.
Suddenly, she too wondered what to wear.
The ball was in only a week! Was it even possible to locate a presentable dress in that time? Most wouldn't have been in a frenzy; they had enough silks to go to any number of teas or banquets. Yet Adelede had not one scrap of such finery. Her best dress was a mildewed lavender shift, too short now to even work in.
She'd have to make it...
The week passed quickly, filled with frenzied excursions to tailors' shops, peddlers', and the jewelers'.
Still, none of these journeys were in the least convenient for Adelede. She had barely a snatch of free time to devote to her un-sewn ball gown, and most of this was only after dark, when sewing was nearly futile. She managed to salvage several scraps of material from her stepsisters' dresses, which were of beautiful, glowing silks and radiant velvets. Yet none of this material would be enough for even a bodice. She sighed wearily. There was no way she'd be able to finish it in time.
On the evening of the ball, her stepmother barged into the attic, her green face flushed with tints of purple. "I told you to HELP YOUR SISTERS!" she screeched.
Then she spotted Adelede's gown.
"What is this?" she crooned, a steely undertone tinting her voice.
"My-my ball gown," replied the raven-haired girl.
"Ball gown, eh?" With those words, her stepmother flung the sad gown into the embers of the fire, grasping Adelede's wrist when she attempted to retrieve the singed scraps.
"You wanted to go to the ball, scullery maid! Now you can enjoy staying here in your loft until you learn obedience! I told you that only Bronte and Odisa were to go!"
Her stepmother stormed out of the room, leaving the distressed girl to cry in solitude.
As her tears fell into the cinders, steam hissed upwards, spiraling into the cooling dusk air.
"CCCSSSsssss," hissed the steam. "SSScccciiiiissss", "Cssinnnderrrrelllaaa." Slowly, the smoke took the shape of a woman, a pair of arms and a head of hair, with a perfect face. "Cinderella." whispered the fairy, her wings materializing. "I am the fire fairy, Cinderella. You have summoned me."
"I..." the young girl explained her situation.
"Oh, I can help. Most certainly." With a flick of her wrist, the fairy transformed Adelede's stained rags into a cascading black gown.
"It's midnight lace, woven by frogs from the stars."
Adelede could only gasp in awe of her beautiful gown.
"Oh, and you might want some footwear, too." Cinderella conjured a pair of gleaming emerald slippers from thin air.
"Oh, how lovely," cried Adelede, tears of gratitude forming in her eyes.
The fairy twirled in midair, and vanished with a loud pop, momentarily re-materializing her head to whisper "By the way, you need to take them off by midnight, or you'll suffer some repercussions."
These words fell upon deaf ears, for Adelede was too awed to listen.
Light as air, she climbed down the trellis from her room window, landing silently on her feet.
The rest of the evening went by in a blur, for she was in a trance of wonder. Every man at the ball danced with her, for she was a radiant, mysterious presence in her dark, sweeping lace gown.
When the moon was overhead, the prince asked her to accompany him to the gardens.
Standing on a bridge that overlooked the river, he kissed her.
As soon as their lips broke the seal of love, Adelede vanished. Heartbroken, the prince searched everywhere for the mysterious dark maiden whom had stolen his heart. No one answered his cries, but if anyone had bothered to notice, there was a forlorn looking frog sitting on the railing where the couple had kissed.
........
How was it? Did you get the sort of combo? If you didn't, it was Cinderella and the Frog Prince. I've always thought that it didn't make much since to call 'Cinderella' cinderella, you know? I mean, it was supposed to be her name because she slept in the fireplace, but logically, no one would be so desperate to sleep there. I'd sooner do what I had Adelede do in the story-sleep on a bag of leaves.
