The Haunting of Cinderella

     Me and my friend, Rebecca Gardner.

     We only proved that opposites attract. Other than the fact that we both lived in the Garden District, a wealthy part of New Orleans, we had no similarities. She loved wearing frilly dresses, while I despised them, and would rather be outside with the boys.

     Rebecca preferred to do things like sewing, dressing her dolls, or learning tips of life from her mother. My interests lay more in the fields of the paranormal history of New Orleans and the Yellow Fever.

     But after that day in 1882, I don't see how any of that matters anymore.

     We were ten years old at the time. Preoccupied with nothing more than the idea of going to our first Masquerade Ball. When every girl or boy turned eighteen, they were allowed the privilige of one special night to dance until dawn, as a sort of right of passage.

     "What would your dress look like?" Rebecca asked curiously, playing with the edge of my bed sheet. I gave the rocking chair I was sitting in a push and thought for a second.

     "It would be black," I replied, thinking how well it would contrast with my pale skin and strawberry blonde hair "With short sleeves and pale blue accents." I imagined how flowy it would be, and how closely it would resemble a ghost.

     That was my answer every time she asked, and, upon telling her why I liked it, she rolled her eyes. Rebecca, however, changed her dress every time, just another reason we weren't alike.

     "Mine would be a dark purple... Like bordeaux!" she said with a dreamy grin "It would be strapless, with pearls decorating collar." I was about to start an argument about it when I heard the noise I had been dreading.

     "Then how do you explain where the money went Harry?" yelled my mom "Did it just disappear into thin air?!"

     "Probably!" my dad shouted back "I just know I have nothing to do with it Rose!" It became silent all of a sudden, at which point I guessed they were trying quieter tones.

     "No Harry!" my mom snapped "We can't afford this house anymore! Cora and I are moving to the Lower Ninth Ward, and you are moving out!" After this, I heard a door slam, my dad stomping down the stairs, and then the front door close heavily. Rebecca looked around nervously, and then stood up.

     "Cora, I think I should leave now," she said. She hugged me awkwardly, then left.

     That was the last time I saw my dad or my best friend.

     It was also one of my last days in my big, lovely house. Because of the lack of money, our house was repossessed, and we were moved to the Lower Ninth where we were only one of two Caucasian families.

     It was hard for my mom to find jobs, and when I was hold enough to get one, I was fired often. We were shunned by most of the community, and the other white family was too cared to come out most of the time.

     Nobody there was a bad person, they were just used to being treated badly, and liked having the upper-hand for once.

     Luckily, there was one family who decided to extend their hand, the Walkers. My mom loved to cook with Ms. Walker, while I shared paranormal stories and became best friends with her daughter, Hazel Walker.

     Hazel was a different type of best friend than Rebecca. Where as Rebecca and I had nothing it common, Hazel and I had everything in common. We loved the paranormal and preferred spending our days playing sports. Rebecca and I could do nothing more than keep each other balanced, while Hazel and I actually had fun together. The only thing she didn't like to talk about was the Masquerade Ball.

     "So Hazel," I said with a grin "What kind of dress would you like to wear when you go to the Masquerade Ball?" She frowned and shrugged, looking at the ground.

     "I'm sorry, did I upset you?" I asked, laying my hand on her back gingerly.

     "Well, I'm not exactly allowed to the Ball," she replied softly "I might be serving there, but..." I quickly apologized, and she smiled, but I knew that it bothered her.

     "If I got to wear a dress though," she continued "It would be rose pink, with translucent sleeves." I told her that it sounded very pretty, but that was the last time I ever brought it up.

     Between the daily tutors sessions with Ms. Walker, and coming home to my mom's cooking every night, we almost had a normal life. The day I turned eighteen though, things began to change, and I couldn't tell if things would get better or worse.