Thursday, March 10, 2011

March 10, 2011

Oh, dear! It does take a terribly long time to fix broken things, don't you agree?

But I'm afraid I left a bit of a cliff hanger. Allow me to put your mind at ease.

The door in the main hall closed with a BANG to rattle the chandeliers. A mad, cackling laughter could be heard from down below. As Cinderella stroked her sister's smoth brown locks, she wondered what could possibly have mad that wicked old witch so happy.
Vivian came up the stairs and into Lily's room with her face wet. It would have looked like she was crying if her face had been red and blotchy, but Cinderella knew something was amiss.
"Oh girls!" Vivian said. "Oh girls, what terrible news!" She started cackling again. Cinderella realized now that the cackling was Vivian's attempt at false tears.
Only then did Cinderella freeze as she combed Lily's hair. She had a bad sense of foreboding in her step-mother's false tears.
"What is it mother?" Lily asked lazily.
"Oh girls!" Vivian said again. "Your father is dead! He was murdered by those he was working with!"
Cinderella knew she was lying. "No!" she said angrily. She wouldn't believe anything Vivian said. Vivian lied. She always lied.
Besides, Cinderella's father was going to to some trade arrangements with Antonio in Italy. Antonio was like an uncle to Cinderella. He would never murder her father.
"They've buried him in an Italy churchyard, I'm afraid," Vivian continued to cackle. "Now we're all alone!"
She ran from the room cackling some more.
"Well? What do you think you are doing? Did I tell you to stop?" Lily demanded.
Cinderella threw the brush at Lily's head before running to her room.

Oh, dear. It seems I must be going again! It appears that a poor young girl is being forced to stay with seven little dwarves because of all the warmongering.... oh my....

Friday, March 20, 2009

March 20, 2009

Ah, the troubles you mortals have, it's almost funny.

Where was I? oh, of course, Cinderella's TRUE tale, the one that has become so destroyed that it's almost beyond recognizing. In fact, if it weren't for her name, I wouldn't recognize it. Well, enough of my ramblings, allow me to continue.

Cinderella was not stupid, but she was blind. Not actually blind, figuratively blind. She didn't see how truly cruel and bloodthirsty her stepmother was. Even Cinderella's own half-sister (as I said, she did not have two 'wicked stepsisters') had sided with Vivian and joined her in plotting against her own father. Cinderella was kind and smart. She did all she was told and did it well, but whenever the chance arose, she would bite back at those who used her, but she was careful. She would only rise against her stepmother or half-sister when she was sure the movement could not be traced back to her, such as hiding a small piece of cheese in her half-sister's room, attracting many mice to invade her bedroom, or sweeping a spider under the dinner table by accident just before her stepmother sat down. These pranks were troublesome, but Cinderella could have done worse- should have done worse- to the evil that resided in that house. She should hae murdered them in their bed, as they would have done to her if it weren't for Cupcake.

Cupcake was Cinderella's guard dog. Cupcake hadn't been bred to be a guard dog, but there was once a time when a young boy from the village who had been coming to steal from Cinderella's father's pantry and Cupcake hadn't allowed his to get much farther than the stables. Then they had known that their sweet little Cupcake would never allow them to be hurt. Oddly enough, and I confess, I did play a part in this, Cupcake never much liked Vivian or Lily, Cinderella's half-sister, and refused to protect them they way he did Cinderella or her father.

But I will speak more of Cupcake later, let us get on with the story.

It was on a stormy night that the mesenger came. Cinderella had been tending to Lily, who was apparently feeling faint and could not call her personal maid to brush her hair and required Cinderella to do it, when the bell ran through the house to announce someone's arrival. Cinderella heard the door down the stairs open and people talk for a moment before the the door slammed with a great and terrible BANG.

Oh, I apollogize, I must cut this short again, it appears what I thought I fixed was only made more broken.

March 20, 2009

All roses have thorns, and while most don't realize it, these thorns are just as beautiful as the bloom at the top. The careful curve of the thorns that lay hidden beaneath the colorful canopies above seem almost sculpted when closely observed. Pain has a subtle beauty that only takes a good eye and heart to notice, such is the case of my most well-known escapade, Cinderella.

Forget what you think you know about my goddaughter. All you have been told is a lie. Her father did not die in a far away land, leaving her with her step mother, Vivian. She didn't even have two stepsisters. I confess I know where the idea comes from, but as the whole point of this- what is it called now?- 'blog' is to tell the truth of these tales, I will not waste your intellegence with the details of the conection.

Cinderella's father was murdered. Brutally.
Vivian is vicious, please remember this. She wasn't 'wicked' or 'unkind', she was vicious. She bewitched Cinderella's father using her silky feminine charms and somehow convinced him to marry her, then hired an assassin to murder him. When the report came to Cinderella, she was told that he had been found with his hand cut off and a dagger in his throat. No one ever found the hand, but I know where the hand went. Vivian had her assassin bring her the hand back as proof of his death.

Oh- forgive me, I must leave now. It appears I am needed else where. But please, stay with me. The truth must be heard.

March 20, 2009

We've been kept quiet for too long. You all think you know the stories, you all think you know the truth, but face it- you know NOTHING about us. We've finally gathered to tell you our stories.

I am the Fairy Godmother. I am the teller of tales, and I will tell you the stories you all think you know so well. As a fairy, I am the link between all stories. I was there when Briar Rose was christened, I was there when Cinderella lay sobbing in the basement, and I was there when the nightingale spoke to the obnoxious prince. Some of my part in these tales you may not even know, but allow me to enlighten you now.