Cinders

Curtains opened.

Tea and breakfast are ready.

I can hear the bells ringing, telling me to hurry up. Get everything to the rooms of my sister's and my stepmother. 

Once upon a time, taking care of the house and my family was not my job.

I suppose this all started when my mother died, long ago.

Let's set the stage; A beautiful estate with acres of land. On the east end, there's a large garden full of blooming flowers and some fruits. In the front, a sparkling fountain where a young boy used to play, splashing at his parents as they laughed.

Mother had met Father at a dance she attended when she was just a girl, and he, just a boy. She walked right up to him, and poured punch right on his suit. Her parents were mortified, as was I when I first heard this story. But Father just laughed. They spun across the dance floor as cellos and violins hummed a soft melody, harps plucking to their passionate twirls. It was like a love story straight out of a fantasy novel, though this was all too real.

During spring many years later, they were married and had a young child, a boy. Ellis Crane, was the only child they had, although Mother wanted more. When I was thirteen years old, Mother grew very ill. On her last day on this beloved Earth, she called for me.

"Ellis, please, when I am gone, take care of your father. Be a good boy, okay?"

Okay, mother. I couldn't say anything else. I was crying too hard.

"And Ellis, remember...nobody can tell you who to be. Always be who you are. I love you, no matter what."

She slipped away peacefully that night. Father was devastated. He ate like a bird, usually stayed in his study. I brought him food and water, anything he needed. Months passed by, and slowly things returned to normal. I still worried for him. He smiled, sure, and laughed. It all seemed so forced, though.

When I turned fifteen, Father remarried to a woman called Lady Mara, who brought her two daughters along. The sisters, Lili and Lana, never seemed to smile naturally or in a goodhearted nature. They were always scowling, or not making any expression. Whenever Father brought them gifts, they smiled, but the smiles always held some mischief or malicious intent behind the eyes. Father never seemed to notice. 

And we were happy, for a time. Lady Mara paid me no mind, and my sisters kept to themselves. We were happy, until Father grew ill as well. The sickness spread faster than Mother's, and he passed within a few weeks. With him gone, the estate was left to Lady Mara, my sisters, and I. Everyone grieved. I stayed in my room most of the days. What would I do without Father around? 

When I turned sixteen just weeks after Father's passing, there was no joy. No celebration was to be had for the day of my birth. All the light in the estate, in fact, seemed to have vanished. All of the love and all of the beauty was gone. The garden was wilting, the fountain no longer gleaming with the memories of Mother and Father. Lady Mara, who refused to let me call her 'mother' or even 'stepmother', instead, put me to work. I cleaned every room, cooked every meal. Soon, I was even mending Lili and Lana's clothing for them, although they knew how to sew. Whenever Lady Mara bought new clothing for Lili and Lana, there was always nothing for me. They would give me old, tattered dresses, and told me to mend them to be suits and pants for myself. 

I did what I was told. For the most part. I mended the dresses to fit me. I mended the ruffles and lace and silk to give me a more feminine appearance. I would spend the little free-time I had making myself look beautiful. Growing up, I had never wanted to be handsome. I never liked suits or pants. Skirts and gowns always looked more comfortable to me, and often times I would watch Mother in awe as she did a small spin in a new dress.