Title:A magical story of transformation

Synopsis:

Cinderella is forced to rethink her happily-ever-after, confronting her own power and what it could mean for her future. 

We lived somewhat happily ever after for about a year. And then, the Prince proposed again, but not what you’re thinking. This development is new to me yet I’m convinced I can turn things around.

It might sound petty, but if I don’t find these glass shoes right away, to put it crudely: I’m screwed. I arrive at the dump in “disguise,” but with my delicate features, I’m not fooling anyone. The golden sign over the entry archway hangs like a fantastical monument to trash heaps: “Magical Kingdom City Recyclery and Hazardous Waste.” The workers, mostly field mice, bow graciously as I pass; no questions asked, which I very much appreciate.  Just the princess bride taking a tour of the kingdom landfill. Nothing to wonder about here. 

I brought my bloodhound, Bruno, who sniffs everything with curiosity and knows me best. 

“Mum” he says, (he’s English), “I can help you find the shoes quickly, if that is, indeed, what you want,” his furry brow furrowed.

“It most definitely is,” I exude confidence. “I need to beat my prince to the punch.” 

The prince, my husband, the one who went crazy over the glass slipper in the first place, is looking for me. He doesn’t like the shoes anymore; can’t stand the sight of them. He thinks they’re “beside the point.” How could that possibly be true? They are the entire reason I am here.

When I couldn’t find them in the castle, He told me he was having them stored, “For safekeeping” in a footlocker and secretly threw the box into the palace dumpster. Faithful Bruno told me and brought me to the garbage shed, but we were too late. I am sure if I can find them here, I’ll make Charming remember, and I’ll make the Duke remember, too. If anything, they’re my insurance policy. The king won’t forget.

After all, it was Charming who took my hand, told me he loved me, “could not live without me.” Promises were made. And now the Grand Duke is more important to him than anyone else in the royal universe, including me. I told him, with a bitterness I regret, he better ask his fairy godmother for help because no way will the king approve of this… whatever this is. 

“But you see,” He said, “ I don’t have a fairy godmother, or a mother. Just my title and my inheritance.”

“Poor you,” I retorted, “Just all the gold in the entire kingdom. How sad.” 

I’m told I have a dry, sarcastic wit. I used to be a daydreamer, singing with the bluebirds, fantasizing about better days. That was my whole charisma, once upon a time, or so I thought. 

Now I spend the better part of my days alone, talking to the cat, ever watchful, ever listening for Mr. Charming’s footstep on the stairs. He passes by our room and another door opens and closes. 

“Ah, and yet I’m not magic,” he responded with something like admiration in his beautiful, masculine voice. “Not like you.” He smacked his gloves in his palm with a gesture of decision. “You are the only mother I can possibly imagine for my child. I want a girl. And I want her to have your gifts.”

The Duke stepped to his side and it was then, as a couple, they asked me to be their surrogate, which is an arrangement, they explained, where I provide an heir. A child. 

“You would be involved,” Charming kindly assured me. “Very,” nodded the Duke. 

I covered my face and turned away in a state of confusion. I felt something stir in me, though I couldn’t have said what it meant. 

My first instinct was to flee to the woods. Toss on my old, ragged dress and run barefoot through the trees. I ran as fast as I could. And then I walked. I walked and walked, though the birds hovered too closely about me, the hares tripped me up, the bees shrouded me in a humming cloud. They would never sting me. But they did finally turn me around. I can’t run anymore.

So here I am, and here he comes. He arrived alone, no Grand Duke, no footmen, horses nor mice. He simply walked into the trash heap with me and joined my search. His liquid blue eyes are confused yet apologetic. Together we sift through the rubble, uncovering box after royal box. He pries one open and with eagerness I peer inside to find only a lock of hair, a rotten apple, a dried rosebud, a dagger. Dear mother of God, this one contains a still-beating heart. 

At last Bruno goes on point. When we finally dig out the footlocker, it is severely damaged. Charming shakes it like a Christmas present. Inside, the shoes are shattered. I slump to the ground and he kneels down to me.

“Do you know,” he asks, searching my eyes and reaching out to tuck a wayward curl back inside my hood. “Do you have any idea how strong, how powerful you are?”

“Curse your royal benevolence,” a tear cascades down my right cheek and a monarch butterfly flutters in to drink the water. A vision of a child flashes before my mind’s eye. A wild thing running with the deer, swimming the river with the Cutthroat, now commanding the sea. I watch the years change her into a beautiful, strong, very wealthy queen.

I stand and the flies encircle me in a ribbon of black, the crows shriek from above, the worker mice bow at my feet.

Once upon a time, there was a conversation that needed to happen. That’s where this story ends and a new one begins.