The Stepsisters

Chapter 1

(Please leave comments and vote, I would love to hear what you think! Thanks for reading!)

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young maiden named Cinderella who had an evil stepmother and two ugly stepsisters who treated her terribly. One day, Cinderella's fairy godmother helped Cinderella go to the ball where she met the prince and they lived happily ever after.

That's the story that everyone seems to know. A story turned into movies, plays, musicals, and event weird high-school remake versions. A story where Cinderella gets to live happily ever after, and a story where I am the villain.

The sun emerges through the double-panned glass of the old fashioned windows that stood in our small cottage. I squint at the painful rays and attempt to hold up my tightened palm to shade my vision. I roll out of bed and crawl towards the mirror as my conscious slowly returns from a night of dreaming. My fingers grasp an old wooden hairbrush as I struggle to correct this mess that stares back at me. My crimson mane covers my entire head, flowing in multiple different directions. An abundance of freckles is plastered over my nose and under my eyes, just adding to the flaws that cover my face. My hand reaches for a silver box and I carefully reveal the interior. A small figurine of a ballerina stands in the center, fastened onto a screw. I firmly twist the knob at the side and smile as the beautiful music floods the minuscule bedroom.

The quiet tune is disrupted by a squeak that echoes from my door. My sister slips through the crack, wearing a simple green dress that falls to the floor and holding a silky blue ribbon between her fingers. "Help me with my hair?"

I nod and she approaches the mirror and sits on the rough, wooden boards. "Why aren't you ready yet? People are going to be here any minute." She asks, as I run my fingers through her short chestnut hair, gathering two pieces and conjoining them behind her head with the ribbon.

"I'll be ready soon enough, where's mother?" I walk towards my wardrobe, painted with a backdrop of a warm pink, spotted with little yellow ducks and purple kittens. I remember when my father had surprised me with it on my seventh birthday. He told me that he painted it just for me because he knew how much I loved animals. I pull out my nicest piece of clothing, a simple purple dress that is almost identical to my sisters besides the colour.

"Probably cooking, we should really help her though. She shouldn't have to do so much work on her special day." She says as she checks her reflection in the mirror one more time before leaving my room to go find our mother. My hand shadows over the delicate music box, and I gently place the lid back down until the music disappears.

A fresh aroma resembling a French bakery travels through the entire kitchen, leading to my stressed mother who is frantically cooking three dishes at once. She turns around and smiles at my sister, Drizella, and me. She seems to forget of the burning bread in the oven and begins to tear up. "Oh, my beautiful girls. Drizella your dress looks wonderful, and Anastasia your hair looks very beautiful I must say." I smile and tug at my frizzy red curls. "Mother, you should go get your dress on. We will take care of the cooking."

She shakes her head and returns to the overwhelmed stove. "Nonsense, you girls relax and maybe set up some of the flowers on the table. I can manage, you know I love to cook."

"Mother, everyone will be arriving soon. You don't want them to see you in your nightgown on the day of your wedding." Drizella insists.

Mother agrees and runs upstairs with a smile on her face, like a child on her first day of school. We finish setting up the table, cooking the food, and filling the appetizer plates with multiple little snacks. Drizella places plates on any available surface around our little cottage as I begin to welcome the early guests.

"Hello, Anastasia. You look lovely." Rupert, my new almost-stepfather, says, as he stands uncomfortably at the door entrance. I curtsy and welcome him in and behind follows a beautiful girl who is about my age. She wears an expensive, silk blue dress, much more delicate than mine. Her golden hair is tied into a perfect bun at the top of her head, and her face is pale but beautiful. Her icy blue eyes travel from my face to the bottom of the dress.

"You must be Cinderella! It's so nice to meet you. I'm Anastasia and Drizella is somewhere around here." I say while admiring her dress.

"Nice dress." Is all she seems to offer, and she pushes past me to follow closely behind her father.