She raced through the dirty cobbled streets, slipping in the muck and rotten fruit that lined the cracks in the stone. The marketplace was bustling with wailing children, scolding mothers whose bosoms heaved with every breath, and the occasional rag-picker who groped the aforementioned busts. They all grunted and grumbled in annoyance as she shoved them aside with her strong arms, arms that were toned from lifting heavy pails of water for scrubbing the floors.
Her breath hitched as she approached the town square, and she stopped confusedly for a moment. If one were to gaze at the square from an aerial view, they would see the very ground moving in a roiling sea of discoloured browns and blues. Wooden carts trundled past waddling women with baskets filled with vegetables, nearly killing the scampering toddlers in frocks as they played with each other in the mud. Men shouted names and curses as they heaved bags of goods back and forth, and the occasional yelp of pain was heard above the din, as an inept apprentice was promptly punished.. Comely maidens, with skin as creamy as the milk they sold, giggled shyly as young gentry ogled them eagerly, forgetting the dignity of their noble background. The chaos was punctuated with the sharp barks , clucks and quacks of sundry animals in the square and on the butcher's aisle.
No! her mind screamed at her, as she wavered on the verge of turning back. This is your last chance; he has already left with her! You have time, do it! Her face hardened, and with her chin set in tenacious determination, she raised her elbows and propelled herself through the crowd. Gasps and groans soon echoed. In no time at all, she had defeated the thick wall of people, and raced away, as filthy insults were thrown at her retreating back.
She stopped suddenly at the edge of the woods. This is it. Lips trembling in anticipation, she now walked forward more cautiously, the glass slipper clutched tightly in her hand. It had miraculously survived the onslaught of milling human crowds. She felt its smooth, pearly surface slide against her sweaty palm, and the feeling of impeding excitement grew, fluttering wildly in her stomach like a caged bird waiting to be freed.
She had already thought of how the meeting would go. Of how he would drop the other's hand in surprise, as the beautiful stranger approached him, teal eyes glowing with her love for him. Of how he would stare at the glittering slipper and let his jaw drop. Of how tenderly her ankle would be held by him, as he gently pushed her dainty foot inside, fingers lingering over the shapely heel. The slipper would fit like a glove, as though she'd been wearing it since her birth. Her lips parted as she imagined him gathering her in his arms, kissing her deeply and then whisking her away to heaven, while the other screamed in dismay.
Something glinted in the bright sunlight filtering through the trees, and she squinted, unable to see for the moment. Then, spotting a rose-gold shell in the distance, she let out a whoop and ran towards it. Her heart beat crazily; Grandmama was right, she would win this time, she would be able to escape, the rightful owner would now be where she belonged...
She paused suddenly, and blinked in confusion. Was she in the right place? Was this a dream she was experiencing- although how can it be, I'm sweating! My feet are burning! Her grip on the shoe grew tighter and tighter, as she watched the following scene unfold before her.
He stood before the other, holding her close by her shoulders. His dark head was bent near her ear, and the other's face blushed in shades of carmine and pink. The courtiers and ladies-in-waiting bustled about, gathering rolls of gold cloth in their arms, beckoning to servants to pick various articles from the ground. An huge bower, intertwined with bell heather and primroses, was slowly being dismantled.
The spectator quickly shook herself out of her trance, and took another step forward. That was when she saw what the other was wearing. A long, cream-coloured skirt swirled around her ankles, while her magnificent cleavage was adequately displayed with the help of a tight-fitting white bodice. The ringlets of mustard, diligently brushed by tired maids with cold fingers, flashed beneath the frothy veil that hid glittering, greedy eyes; eyes that beheld the Prince in unabashed glee. The entire picture was completed by a man in a black robe and a crucifix at his neck, closing the leather-bound book in his hand with a soft snap.
She watched with growing horror, as the Prince kissed the other's mouth and whispered, 'My lovely forest-bride,' before taking her hand and helping her into the carriage. Before the bride slipped into the waiting vehicle, her skirt was slightly lifted and her ankle displayed, and the spectator glimpsed a trickle of red, red liquid seep into the white cloth, before it was hastily whisked out of sight. She looked up to witness gleaming spiteful eyes retreat slowly into the shadowy recesses of the carriage, but not before the wide, red mouth smirked at her.
The Prince straightened up, and glanced around imperiously, before his gaze came to rest on the sweating, trembling intruder. His eyes widened, and he began walking towards her, raising an arm. She began to shake - it was a dream - there he was , a mere foot away, ready to acknowledge that she was really the one who had captured his heart during the ball...
The sting of a slap brought her staggering to reality. The Prince was looking down at her, his eyes blazing in anger. He pinched her arm and she howled in pain. 'Dirty cow!' he roared, pushing her down to the ground. 'How dare you interrupt a royal wedding ceremony? Be gone, wretch, or face my wrath!' With that, he whirled around, quickly got into the carriage and rode away, the vehicle biding her a sadistic farewell as it shone pinkly in the fading sunlight.
She was deaf, dumb and blind. She was a hollow shell, legs splayed beneath her torn dress. The world turned into a cold tomb of silent greys. Her eyes were opaque with disbelief and unimaginable sorrow, as she simply sat there, without regard to who or where she was. She clenched her hands tightly, and a sharp pain in her right hand brought the world back in a rush of shapes and colours.
The entire wedding party was gone. She looked down to see crimson ooze down her wrist; the glass slipper had cracked in her hand.
She closed her eyes and gripped the slipper harder and harder, welcoming the waves of pain as they roared and broke over her. She could go back, but she wouldn't. It simply was not possible. Going back would entail scrubbing, washing and brushing. It would mean running after her step-mother and sister, attending once more to all their needs, and bearing the pricks of their insults again. It would mean crying over her father's portrait every morning, and hating her Grandmama for what she'd promised and what she'd failed to provide. But most of all...it would mean going back to the avatar of the poor, orphaned servant girl.
She slowly opened her eyes and smiled. No, she was a princess. A certain quiet dignity descended upon her slender form as she stood up. Her back straightened with regal pride, and she raised her head, as though addressing her people. I am a princess. I am the Queen. And nothing will ever change me. She smiled again, as she raised the stiletto heel of the glass slipper. I will ensure that.
*
The wood-cutter staggered through the bushes, screaming in fear. He tumbled onto the road and ran for his life. Reaching the inn, he yanked open the door.
The crowd inside immediately froze, watching the man heave and retch, trying to catch his breath. Finally, the bartender, abandoning his dirty washing cloth, strode forward and pulled the wood-cutter to his feet. 'What the hell's the matter with you, man? You look like you've seen a ghost!'
The man stared back at him with crazed eyes. 'It may as well be, John! She was just lying there, a damned flower wreath 'round her pretty hair, 'n all the animals sniffin' about her 'n all. Her hair was soaked, man, soaked with the blood from the wrists crossed beneath her head! That wasn't even the worst bit! Her lips - God almighty! I can still see it, clear as day! - were smiling, like she was enjoying it, although I dunno how she bloody well could, with that great damned shard of glass, all the way through her heart!'
