Cinderella

An Invitation

It is a strange and wondrous thing that though the world seems constantly to be ending, the sun continues to rise and set and rise again.

The woman did not allow the girl to wallow in grief for long; life had not granted her such a kindness and she saw no reason to extend it to anyone else. The girl instead found herself working the fields, tending the animals, and maintaining the house. It was not a secret to either the woman or her stepdaughter that the two sisters were completely hopeless outside the kitchen (and oftentimes inside it). Instead, they remained indoors practicing finer arts (at which they did not fare much better) while the woman kept the house running and the girl kept it in repair.

The girl knew she favored her father. The woman had made no secret of it, and had over time grown to hate the sight of the girl's face. At first, she was relocated from her bedroom to another further down the hall; then to the hearthroom; finally outside to the barn. The woman was of the opinion that the less she saw of the girl, the better. In response, the girl had made for herself a little bedroom in the barn out of whatever she could scrounge up. Unfortunately, it wasn't much, and she was often forced to sleep as close to the fire as possible, often waking with a face smudged with ash from the cinders. Her stepsisters ribbed her endlessly for it, but she paid them no mind.

Life was, if not good, then at least predictable.

One of the girl's favorite chores was her weekly visit to town. The Sunday drive was quiet and comforting, and if she listened hard enough she imagined she could even hear Father humming alongside her. Each Sunday passed in more or less the same fashion, faces blurring together in the familiar cacophony of marketplace drabble. On this Sunday however, excitement seemed to shimmer in the morning air as she pulled into town, halting the horse and cart in front of the general store. A small gaggle of girls around her age were crowded before the noticeboard and mothers were scampering in and out of the stores beyond, ribbons and silks flying behind them. Pushing her way forward, she approached the noticeboard.

Tacked to the splintered wood was a large scroll complete with the golden seal of the King in the lower right hand corner. It was an invitation. Written in the finest hand she'd ever seen was a summons to the great banquet in the Capital for the Prince's coming of age, and it was addressed to every eligible maiden of the kingdom regardless of class. The scroll promised three days of festivities. Three days.

The girl had been very numb for a long time. She had become used to the dull, aching void at the center of her chest. The weight that sat eternally on her shoulders was at this point nearly comforting in its familiarity. As she gazed upon the royal summons, however, a spark was lit. Like morning glories in the dawn, she felt something in her chest begin to unfurl. The tiniest spark of hope was lit.

Three days to forget. Three days to simply... be. The possibilities were intoxicating. In record time she was back on the road, nudging the horse as much as she dared. Each item was put away as inoffensively as possible. The barn was triple-checked for inadequacies. Seeing that all was in its place, she gathered her courage and walked into the kitchen.

The woman was at the stove stirring something and seemed at first inclined to ignore her. The girl cleared her throat. The woman stilled. The girl's breathing grew quick and shallow, but she stepped forward anyway, eyeing the spoon that was now held deliberately in view. She didn't dare sit, but instead lowered her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Madam," she whispered. The woman remained silent. "I have news."

The woman turned a bit to face her, those hard eyes boring deeper and deeper by the moment. "Speak," she said.

The moment the girl told the woman of the news, her eyes widened and she ran to her stepsisters' rooms, banging loudly on the doors. They were a whirlwind of color as they raced to grab wallets and hats and coats and anything that might fetch a price, the girl shunted to the side as they clambered out the door and into the cart. In no time, there was little left of the three save for a billowing cloud of dust and the distant shouts of the sisters. The girl, for her part, walked calmly back inside the house, thankful for an unexpected afternoon off. She knew better than to expect her stepmother to buy anything for her while she was in town, but she could at least make use of some of her mother's old things.