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The Truth of the Fairytale

🇺🇸Ellie_Wyoming
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Synopsis
We’ve all heard of the classics; Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Tangled, The Princess and the frog. But that’s not how it really happened. Cinderella’s stepsisters cut off their toes to fit their feet into the tiny glass slipper. Sleeping Beauty was raped by the king. Ariel commits suicide. In this series, the reality of the modern fairytales has been exposed, learn the truth of each princess's past with sets based off of the famous stories told by the Grimm Brothers.
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Chapter 1 - Cinderella: Part 1

"Darling, mother won't make it much longer." With a cough, "My little Aschenputtel, stay good. Stay pious. My darling, stay strong. God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you."With a shuddering sigh, her chest deflated, never to rise again.

Her face was hollow, lifeless. She looked nothing like the mother that Aschenputtel had known. Aschenputtel was only 10 years old, yet she had experienced the death of her own mother. The little girl extended her hand out and closed her mother's eyes. She had died of sickness. Diagnosed a year ago, Aschenputtel and her mother had tried to make the best of their time together before there was no time left. She had known for so long that this day was coming, Aschenputtel had prepared herself for it. For the day her mother would die. She thought she would cry. But, the pain she felt was too agonizing for her to scarcely think. The searing hot knife struck across her chest again and again, the pain leaving her emotionless and hollow.

Aschenputtel Laid down the cold hand that she clasped and put it onto her mothers lap, covered her up with her quilt and then pulled the nearly sheer black curtain back. She walked over to the door, placed her hand on the doorframe and turned back to look at her mother one last time. Her mother's silhouette was visible through the thin curtain. She could no longer see her mother's face, but she could see that all life had been sucked dry from her mother's body.

She lowered her head and walked out the door, latching it behind her.

-

Every day, a young girl would kneel by a grave and cry. For the first 2 weeks, she found herself unable to shed a tear. Exactly 15 days after her mother's death, she found herself unable to stop. Tears fell down her face. Her cheeks became cold, her dress looked as if a wild rain storm came through her room, soaking her dress in thousands of drops of water, the salty tears of the gods. Her hands stopped trying to keep her face dry as now they were soaked as well, why suppress her grief when she didn't have too.

The girl went out to her mother's grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good. Aschenputtel remembered her mother's dying wish; stay good. Stay pious. My darling, stay strong. She sat up straight, a determined look in her eyes. Her mother asked her to stay good, so she would. She will be obedient and listen to everybody. Her mother had asked her to stay pious, so she would. She would pray to god everyday, always staying true to her beliefs and following the bible. Her mother had asked her to stay strong, so she would stop crying pitifully, instead, she would never let anything, or anyone maltreat her.

Aschenputtel stood up with a clenched fist and a gleam in her strikingly blue eyes. As the season's changed, Aschenputtel stayed true to her word. She prayed daily, she stopped crying and decided to place a lily, her mother's choice flower, on top of her mothers grave each day instead. She obediently listened to her father each day, doing things like chores, cooking dinner or practising her penmanship without argument.

She channeled all of her grief into determination, determination to fulfill her mother's dying wish.

When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife.

The young 11 year old girl was busy doing her father's laundry when a man walked through the open door. He had a suit and top hat on, his shoes shined in the light of the sun, his can thumped onto the floor beneath him. On his arm, there was a woman. She possessed an attractive face. Lovely skin and a little button nose. Her slightly heart shaped lips were in the form of a sneer, the look that she gave Aschenputtel made it obvious that she looked down on the young girl.

"Father." Aschenputtel said, "Who is this?"

"This is your step-mother, Lady Tremaine. She has two daughters, Anastasia and Drizella. You will do well to get along with them." Her father replied as he hung his hat on the hook next to the door.

"... Very well father." Aschenputtel said obediently.

-

This wife brought two daughters into the house with her. They were beautiful, with fair faces, but evil and dark hearts. Times soon grew terribly dreadful for the unfortunate stepchild.

One day, after Aschenputtel had finished watering the garden, she went for lunch with her step-sisters upon her father's request.

"Why should that stupid goose sit in the parlor with us?" they said. "If she wants to eat bread, then she will have to earn it. Out with this kitchen maid!"

Aschenputtel merely ignored them and continued on with her meal. The sisters were angry because they had been ignored so they took her by her head and dragged her out of her seat.

They took her beautiful clothes away from her, dressed her in an old gray smock, and gave her wooden shoes. "Just look at the proud princess! How decked out she is!" They shouted and laughed as they led her into the kitchen.

Aschenputtel bit her tongue to hold back her tears. Bear with it. 'Stay strong' the young girl thought back to her mother's final words. She gritted her teeth as they made her perform exhausting work from morning until evening, get up before daybreak, transport water, prepare the fires, cook, and wash. Besides this, the sisters did everything imaginable to hurt her. They made fun of her, scattered peas and lentils into the ashes for her, so that she had to sit and pick them out again.

The sisters took over her bedroom. Leaving her no place to sleep or keep her belongings. Forced to sleep by the hearth in the ashes.

She would always wake up with her drab smock covered in the cinders, covered in the black of ashes. Because she was always in this sorry state, they began calling her Cinderella.