In Her Rags

Once upon a time

QUICK CLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR AN OF MY WRITING TO BE REPOSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE. I DO NOT TOLERATE COMMENTING STORIES AS PROMOTION. IF YOU WANT ME TO READ YOUR STORY: DM ME. Sorry about this everyone but it was necessary.

Ok, so I know this has been done a billion times before but I find this in an old, ripped notebook I had when I was fourteen years old and I have just grown so attached to this. It turns out this is all I had managed to write back then so I've decided to continue with this story. I am really sorry if the writing isn't as good, however my writing has improved considerably in these 2-3 years. :)

Tring - Trring!

"Just one more minute, please!" Cinderella sleepily begged but it was in vain, as it was shortly followed by another loud ring.

Sighing, Cinderella drowsily got out of bed as she unfastened her golden braid and set out her clothing, the usual old rags she was accustomed to wear.

Tring-Trring!

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" She yelled towards the bell, pinning her hair up, accidentally managing to prick herself.

"Oh darn that bell!"

Cinderella was quite the sight to see, if you ever had a chance to see her, as she often busied herself with her work. Her hair fell down like a curtain of spinned gold; her eyes were the brightest of blue so that you could see the entire universe by looking through them. Despite being donned in rags, she had the grace and poise of a queen and somehow never failed to smile at the world in all its ugliness.

She scurried down the many steps from her sorry garret to the kitchen, where according to her stepmother, she rightfully belonged. She set the tin kettle to boil on the hearth of fire and sat down nearby for warmth. During this time, the bell impatiently sounded once more, demanding Cinderella's utmost attention.

"Even that bell rules over me" Cinderella said a little sadly as she stood up to attend her stepmother's needs.

She arranged the tray beautifully as she always did, with the finest china, decorated with a sprig of lavender she had gathered in the gardens. Well, not quite the finest china. The finest china that the manor beheld was a set of white French china patterned with blue roses. Her mother sipped her morning tea (for her elevenses) out of the china so before her father married again to Lady Tremaine; Cinderella secretly took the set and hid it away amongst other treasures she possessed, few as they may be.

She quickly poured the tea in one of the cups and hurried to her stepmother's chamber. With a spare hand, she briskly knocked on the door.

"Enter" drawled a voice so chilling and despicable you simply had to do its bidding. Nervously Cinderella trembled in with the tray.

"You're tea, m'lady" She anxiously announced, tottering into the room.

"Oh finally! I see you have decided up after all" Lady Tremaine patronised, as her thin, cracked lips twitched into a sadistic smirk. "I was beginning to think that you lost your way and was in need of a map".

To this, Cinderella said nothing. After all she was far too used to Lady Tremaine's pointless insults and complaints which she honestly did not care for.

"Well then, what about my tea?" Lady Tremaine demanded impatiently.

"Oh, yes" Cinderella stammered, passing the tray to her.

"How...lovely" Lady Tremaine remarked sarcastically, merely glancing at the silver tray. "Now I want you to attend to Drizella and Anastasia. You must do what they wish, when they wish. Without a single complaint" She barked out the order.