Cinderella and the Fairy Nightmare

Part 1

**Part 1**

The Fairy Godmother took a peep at the scene unfolding before her. The Prince Charming was on his way to the house with the enchanted glass slipper that Cinderella had worn to the ball. Leaving the Prince to fall in love with her. She smirked at the thought of her magic that night of the ball. It had all worked perfectly, the only time it had worked perfectly. She had been kicked out of the Fairy world years ago, yet no one dared to come to this country, let alone this part. Yet she came here anyway as a Fairy Godmother, their only Fairy Godmother. In previous years her magic had failed her in some way, no matter what she did. Finally her luck was turning, the slipper had no problems whatsoever and Cinderella would live with the Prince and be happily ever after. Only as the scene below her in the sitting room of the house, the Prince was staring intently at her. Confusion and disgust crossed the planes of his face. The slipper was on her foot. But not the right foot.

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The eldest step-sister sat perched on the purple velvet stool as the Prince knelt on the floor in front of her. She knew she was the one to be envious of. Everything she did was perfection, and she wondered why the Prince had not courted her at the ball. Did he like making scenes? The overdramatic appeased to her as she saw him take the slipper from the silk cushioned glass box. Her toe nails were long, yet she knew the Prince would love the way they scratch his legs on their fateful wedding night, who wouldn't love her? Pushing her shoulders back and chest forward, her blotchy skin was something she believed the Prince loved. His love for her was as clear as daylight, and she wondered why he hadn't proposed to her yet. Probably to make the other girls jealous, she thought to herself, snickering at the thought. Perspiration trailed down her forehead over the pimples that aligned her face. They made her face look brighter and she knew others were envious of it. People are so drawn to me, she thought with a smile as the Prince took out cotton gloves, must be for precaution, he doesn't want to feel the lust after touching my skin, she thought. He pulled out the slipper out of the glass box and went to slip it onto her foot.

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"Let me out" Cinderella screamed one last time, before her throat stopped her from calling again, due to dehydration. She knew she was running out of time. Her Prince was calling for her, waiting for her, yet he didn't hear her calls, her pains, her torture. Her hand came to press against her forehead, leaning forward her head and hand hit the wooden door. She started sobbing. She had to figure out a way to get downstairs. Turning around her back pressed against the door as she fell down it to sit on the floor. Her wet, glassy eyes flickered over to the window. She knew there was no way down there, especially from the third floor. Getting up, she walked over to the window and opened the shutter, it was starting to go rusty on the hinges, but that was not what made the fury cross her face. He was already down there. Imagine what they were putting him through. She caught sight of the drainage pipe running down the window to the bottom of the house. Bending over, she ripped the bottom off around her floor length dress so it was one large strip. Folding it in half, and half again, added the strength to the fabric that she needed. Stepping out and onto the window, she held tight to the bricks as her feet were firmly planted on the small window ledge. Using the folded fabric, she put one end behind the pipe and held onto each end. Releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding, she quickly leant backwards and placed her feet on either side of the pipe. As quickly as she could, she slowly walked her way down the pipe. She could hear it groan under her weight, making her steps quicker as she passed the weak spot in the piping. Pushing her feet against the wall, she went backwards, her hands let go of the fabric and she landed herself upright on the grass that was barely there. Not wasting any time she ran to the front door and pushed the doors inward. As she fell forward into the entrance she could see the sitting room to her right, everyone was staring at her. Her step-mother and sisters looked at her with a wicked grin; the grin she imagined would happen if they sold her for a high profit. Yet the grin was not yet for her to be sold for the highest bidder. The Prince's Footmen had a disgusted look on his face, and the Prince had the same disgusted face mixed with confusion. What had happened, why her presence was not the one they cared about? This should have been a shock to them to see her out of the locked and bolted room. They were all staring at something lower to the ground, as Cinderella followed their gazes, her eyes rest on the most horrifying feat. Nightmares formed, anger raged, all peace lost. Hope was lost. There sitting on the plush velvet stool was the eldest of the step-sisters, and on her foot was the glass slipper. Her glass slipper. Cinderella didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to breathe. Her mind was reeling, how can it fit her? And it's my slipper! Fumbled through her mind. But one thought screamed out at her from the depths of her mind. She's marrying the Prince. My Prince.