Welcome to my new story - it's short and pretty self explanatory. The following tale is stolen (and kinda reworded) from a guy called Paul Henri D'Holbach who I learned about in philosophy and found quite interesting. Check him out if you want an existential crisis, but tbh this tale will probably give you one anyway - skip this chapter of you want, without context the tale is pretty normal but still, it also isn't that relevant.
There are no trigger warnings for this story except maybe neglectful parenting but it's Cinderella so you all know that.
"There once was a fly, a happy fly no less, that enjoyed whizzing through forests and down country lanes; it lived jovially, exuberantly careless with an abundance of time - it was a fly, and flies had nothing to do but fly.
"But flies cannot fly forever, and on one particularly warm day - as it was travelling down a barren country path - the fly grew tired. But there was nowhere for the tired little fly to go, for there were no trees or foliage in sight, surely landing on the ground would get the fly eaten or stepped on, and so it had no where to rest.
"After many more minutes of flying along down the road, a large oak carriage pulled by two grey horses controlled by an equally grey man with gleaming spectacles and a large nose came trundling up the hill behind the fly.
"The fly, now desperately fatigued, decided to land on the carriage, content to rest atop its gleaming oak finishings in the midday's sun.
"Soon, the fly had overcome its fatigue, but it was reluctant to fly away from the carriage. The fly began to believe that the carriage was indeed headed where the fly was headed; as if the fly were in control of the carriage.
"The fly congratulated itself when the carriage made a left turn, telling itself that it is the turn it would have made were it not riding on the carriage.
"But of course, the fly was not in control of the carriage. The fly did not determine where the carriage would go, but it wanted so badly to be in control that it had tricked itself into believing it was in control, and not going down a predetermined path by whoever was in control of the carriage. This was clear to see - to anyone who wasn't the fly.
"And so, the fly went on believing it was in charge of its own destiny, and the world went on around the fly in its perfect, naive little bubble."
Her smiling face was half in shadow from the flickering candlelight - her wide brown eyes an inky black in the semi-darkness.
The little boy beneath her dozed on, blissfully unaware of his mother's adoring eyes melting into his skin as he slept, having fallen asleep before the end of his favourite tale. She leaned forward, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders in sweet semi-curls, and the dimples on her cheeks showing as she kissed the small boy's forehead.
"Remember, Daniel." She whispered to his sleeping form. "Never become a passive character in your own life: you have to choose whether you allow yourself to follow the trail destiny has set out for you, or create your own trail."
She gently blew out the bedside candle, making her way silently over the floorboards towards the door where her husband awaited her, she stood in his arms, both of them glassy eyed as they watched their child sleeping.
"No matter how lost you may find yourself, my sweet child, you are destined for so much more than you realise." She whispered to their boy. Then, with a hand on his shoulder, she gently guided her husband away; leaving the door ajar just in case her little Daniel needed her.