A Bunch of Words · Twisted Fairytales

Her Prince

twisted cinderellaShe’s dancing. Twirling around and around with Prince Charming. Her beautiful blonde bun and blue ball gown stunning the whole room. Particularly the prince. She is dancing wonderfully . Her and the prince seemed like a match made in heaven found on the dance floor. It seemed as though she wore her dancing shoes. But she never learnt how to dance. She never took lessons. Never had the time.  Her free time was hers, she wasn’t going to spend it learning to dance. She was too tired by then anyway. All that cleaning. Back at home. But she had no cleaning tonight, just dancing with the prince. Magical dancing with the prince. Those glass slippers must be magical. More magical that She originally thought. Or the prince must be a marvellous dancer to make the room over look Cinderella’s lack of talent in that area.

They danced past her step sisters. Cinderella startled a little and tried to hide her face. If they knew she was there all would be ruined. Her life back home would be even more unbearable than  it already was. But what would it matter if they saw her? The Prince had danced with no one but Cinderella. Perhaps the prince would love her and rescue her from the horrible home.

They danced on for hours. Cinderella knew she should be keeping an eye on the time but why would she draw her eyes away from the prince. Besides, time meant nothing right now. She was in his arms and she never wanted to leave. If she was constantly checking the time the prince would get the wrong idea.

The clock passed ten. Cinderella and Prince Charming were still dancing across the dance floor. Guests were starting to leave, realising that their daughters or sisters wouldn’t be considered by the prince now. Now that his eyes had caught this beauty’s eyes. Now that they were dancing together for hours.

The clock passed eleven. Cinderella remained in Prince Charming’s arms. Half past eleven. Their dancing was slowing and within the next half an hour they had stopped. But they didn’t depart. Prince Charming lead Cinderella into the garden, towards the fountain. They talked and then Cinderella heard the sound. That dreadful sound that told her the lovely evening was over. The sound that told her to leave. But she didn’t leave. The clock striking midnight. One strike. Two strike. Three strike. Four strikes. Five strikes. Still she stayed with the prince. Six strikes. Seven strikes. Eight strikes. Time was running out and Cinderella finally realised it. Cinderella left. She ran from the prince. Nine strikes. She ran down the stairs. Ten strikes. She lost her shoe on the stairs but she didn’t have time to turn around and pick it up. She heard the prince calling after her but she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t explain. Eleven strikes. Time was running short. Time was now everything. Cinderella hopped in the carriage and it raced off as fast as it could. In the carriage, Cinderella was hitting her head on the roof of the carriage as drove over every bump.

Twelve Strikes! The carriage drove over another bump but this time Cinderella’s head broke right through the top of the old carriage. It was no longer a carriage. It was now an oversize pumpkin again. The juice and pumpkin flesh soaked into her skin and ball gown. Her ball gown? Didn’t her fairy godmother tell her she would lose her dress and return to her rags at midnight? The carriage, and footmen and horses all turned back. But Cinderella didn’t. She could return to the prince and explain and continue dancing with him.

She tried to step out of the smashed pumpkin but, as her foot landed on the ground, she fell. A pain shot up her leg. A pain like she had never felt before. She looked down at her leg and saw a pile of straw which she had landed in. no, not landed in. a pile of straw which was falling out of her leg. She reached up to her face and felt it. She felt nothing but harsh material. She felt her hair and felt nothing but straw. Her heart sank. She was now nothing more than a scarecrow, a scarecrow in a ball gown.

The mice scurried over to Cinderella as tears started rolling down her cheeks. They soaked into her material face. Soon they were all at work fixing her broken straw leg, singing as they worked. But still the tears fell. As she cried she heard the sound of leaves crunching under a boot. Cinderella turned around and came face to face with her Prince Charming. His face filled with terror when he saw her material face, straw hair and sewn on button eyes, all covered in smashed pumpkin. His hand instantly reached for his sword. He pulled it out as Cinderella stood up.

“What evil is this?” asked the prince. His blade was held out towards her heart. “What trickery?” Cinderella shook her head at him and tried to walk towards him. The prince would have none of that. A moment ago she was the most beautiful woman in the whole kingdom, now she was a horrible creature. A witch even. He wouldn’t take any chances, and so he ran her through the heart.

Cinderella jolted back with the impact but as he drew the sword out of her chest, she did not fall dead. She felt fine. Looking at the frightened prince, she realised her mistake of falling for the prince when he only looked at her magical beauty. Cinderella stretched forth her arms and asked the prince to dance. He dropped his sword and ran away into the surrounding forest. Cinderella picked up the fallen sword and chased after the prince.

She found him at the edge of a cliff, having nowhere to run. He looked up at her just as she ran him through with his own sword. As she pulled it out, the prince fell backwards. Dead. If the sword hadn’t killed him, the fall from the cliff would have. His blood was still dripping from the sword as Cinderella stabbed it into her hip and down her thigh. It held in place with the straw. The straw soaked up the blood and soon, the beautiful blue ball gown was stained with both pumpkin juice and blood. His blood. Her Prince’s blood.


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