The fields have been robbed of all their brightness, and the sky is a drizzly mist
grey. It makes you wish that you'd never seen such a terrible, blustery day.
Bizarre and unbearable and rainy as a page from the Genesis flood. It makes
you wish that the people would cleanse their hands of blood…
The inkwell sky flashed with lightning as a small carriage sped down an
old country back road. The wind howled like the chorus of hungry wolves through
the branches of the trees. Rain battered the Earth mercilessly, drops the size of
gold coins flattening the grass in the empty vineyard. The carriage stopped
abruptly and two figures got out. One, a tall and elderly shadow with evil eyes and
a glowing white smile. The other, a short and plump silhouette with a look of
crazed fear plastered on her face. The evil shadow dragged a third figure out of
the carriage. A glowing and innocent youth with her hands and feet bound and
her mouth gagged, crying and coughing and sputtering for air. The youth
screamed as the evil shadow dragged her out to the middle of the abandoned
field where a shovel and a predug hole were waiting for them. The plump
silhouette began to cry and plead as the evil shadow flung the youth into the hole
and began to fill it back up. Lighting lit up Madame's malicious face as she
backhanded her younger daughter across the face with the shovel she held in
her hand.
"Charlotte, you weak, stupid girl! Don't you want to marry the Prince?"
Charlotte wailed as if upon saying those words Madame had hit her again,
though she hadn't.
"No, Maman!" Charlotte cried, bile rising up in her throat. "I just want to go
home! To have things the way they were before this stupid ball! Please just let
Ella go!" For a minute Madame seemed to consider this.
"PA-EAZ! UH WONE MAWY UH PWINF!" Ella's muffled cries from inside
the hole broke the spell that sympathy had cast on Madame. She smiled madly.
"That's right, Deary, you wont marry the Prince. I'll make sure of that!"
The last thing Cinderella saw before the ashen dirt covered her face
completely was her Stepmother's evil shadow, smile glowing like a wicked moon.
In half an hour, Cinderella passed out; and by the time the palace guards found
her, it was too late.