Cinderella

The Ball

It's every girl's dream to gracefully walk down a staircase in front of a packed dance floor and have every woman cast a subtle gaze in envy as the men stare scandalously at whatever the dress does not leave to the imagination.

That is where Ella found herself, basking in the spotlight and showered with the looks of every man and woman. No one could blame them for staring. The dress could never have been made by mere mortal hands, her hair shone by dew-like diamonds nestled between curls, and her shoes rang with every step as the glass slipper made contact with the marble floors.

Every detail was perfect. However, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found herself very alone. One by one, people grew bored of the mysterious masked woman, and their backs turned away from her. She stood awkwardly near the bottom of the staircase and looked out at the sea of people. 

She had wanted to wish for riches or to be whisked far away from Harron City, but the fairy godmother had insisted. She had waved her wand and insisted that this masquerade would change her life. Now, she was at a social event with less than adequate social skills. At least the music was enjoyable.

There was nowhere to go, no friendly faces, no available seating, and no way to escape back the way she had come without drawing an even bigger scene. No one would make eye contact with her unless they were whispering between each other like a bunch of gossip-mongers.

The longer she stood unmoving, the more dread began to settle at the bottom of her stomach.

"Excuse me, my dear." a man in a rabbit mask said to her as he pushed past her to access the stairs.

"My apologies." She stepped against the wall, wishing at that moment that she could disappear.

Laughter surrounded her. Ladies gossiped in groups, men traded harrowing tales, and couples swirled the dance floor effortlessly. It was hard not to be drawn in by the shared joy around her. It gave her the courage to push off the wall and enter the sea of masked strangers. 

A gentleman caught her eye from across the floor. He had on a sunset color mask that perfectly offset his sunshine-colored hair. He looked friendly enough, and he smiled at her and Ella dipped her head to him in response. It was enough to spur him forward towards her. 

Her heart rate picked up in either fear or anticipation. She took a few steps forward, wringing her hands.

Anastasia. The name crossed through her mind before she could even process who had stepped between them. She was masked, but it was the same teal satin mask Ella had seen tucked into a box in her room.

Anastasia was walking straight towards her with a familiar look of rage. Anastasia must have recognized her already and now she would confront her. The confrontation that was coming would be loud and humiliating.

Run. That was the only word coursing through her heart. The man in the sunset mask was forgotten. Propriety was forgotten. She turned her head towards the staircase, but couples littered the stairs, blocking her exit.

Ella went in the only direction she could, she dug her heels into the floor and turned towards the dance floor with a dramatic twirl of her dress, which is how she managed to collide with a very tall and solid object.

"Oh no." she squeaked. It was not an object. It was a man. A man holding two empty glasses, the contents now soaked into his coat, his shirt, and dripping onto the pristine white floors. There was nothing she longed for more in that moment than a short sudden death.

Anastasia. The name collided with her current calamity. Ella turned back to her stepsister, but Anastasia had stopped her pursuit. She stood back from the public scene Ella had just made, sending violent messages with her eyes.