Cinderella as told by Jack Driscoll
There was a dame named Cinderella and she lived with the worst family imaginable. They had thoughts of climbing up the social ladder. They couldn’t do that with a beautiful woman showing them up every time. They also couldn’t do that when they were working. Work was ugly and time-consuming, and none of stepsisters wanted that. It was better to force another person to do all the work, that way they could live in ease. And so they did live in ease, off the back of the beautiful woman they didn’t want showing them up.
The dame’s name was Cinderalla. She was a hard worker. She never complained to her stepsisters because she knew she’d get in trouble if she did. Her life was already hell; she didn’t want to make it worse, but every day she dreamed of getting out of there. She dreamed of something better, a life of beauty that was denied to her.
Now this sort of thing doesn’t happen always, but it does happen in fairy tales, which makes them all the more fiction than your average story-Cinderella found a way out. It wasn’t through hard work. That part’s not fiction. It was through a fairy godmother.
This fairy godmother granted her a wish, allowed her to taste the life that had been so long denied to her, allowed her to raise above the hell imposed on her by her stepsisters and shine for the rest of the world. And she did shine. She shone right in front of the prince of that land, and he fell for her right on the spot. But there’s something else that’s not fiction about this story, and it’s that things like this, freedom from the real world, come with a price. If she didn’t leave before midnight she’d change back to the way she was: poor, oppressed and unhappy.
But can you really blame her for losing track of time? For once in her life she was beautiful. For once in her life she was free. For once in her life she could touch the things that had been denied to her, and for the first time she experienced love. It was a new thing, a wonderful thing, a strange thing and a terrifying thing, but it was what she wanted most of all, what she felt all over and deepest in her heart. She had known perfunctory love, the kind felt towards family. But she had not known romantic love, and she had never known being loved by someone else.
So she lost track of time. She danced with the prince all night, to the envy of all the women around her. It was with great reluctance that she ran out of the castle that night when she heard the bell strike, and by the time she made it to the foot of the stairs she was too late: she’d been reverted. She’d gone back to who she was. But she left one memento from her time as a crowning beauty, and that was one glass slipper.
In the time they had spent together, Cinderella had become dear to the Prince. There was something about her that struck him as fascinating. She was so unlike other women. She wasn’t just pretty. She was honest. She made no big deal about trying to impress him. She just was. And that was so, so rare in the court, rare like a precious gem. So of course, he went looking for her. Went looking for the woman who left the glass slipper-with the promise that if he found her, he’d marry her.
Naturally, all the women went wild at this opportunity to move up in society. It was a big leap, like crossing the chasms of the Grand Canyon. The stepsisters were all over this, which meant Cinderella was repressed even more. Not that she cared; her life was made more miserable by her own embarrassment at what had happened, her own anger and frustration at her stupidity and her lot in life, and the memories of the Prince. The emotions tied up with those memories. She couldn’t let them go. She’d try push them aside, focus on her work, but they’d come whirling back again like paper caught in a cyclone. And that’s how she felt: like she was inside a cyclone, going in furious circles. It was hard to work under such conditions. When she heard news of the search, the cyclone only intensified.
Imagine how she felt when the Prince showed up at her house! As you can imagine, the shoe didn’t fit on any of the stepsister’s feet, no matter how much they tried to convince him otherwise. The poor Prince was disappointed. He’d been around the whole town and could find no one whose shoes fit in the slippers. He was starting to think Cinderella was an illusion. Of course she was. No woman in this place could be so beautiful and honest. He was in love with a woman who wasn’t real.
But by chance, he saw her, doing the tasks the women of the house had imposed on her: cleaning. He saw her and knew her and wanted her forever. The whole slipper deal was just icing on the cake. It fit like a glove. Or the perfect shoe.
As for the rest? Well: they lived happily ever after.
The dame’s name was Cinderalla. She was a hard worker. She never complained to her stepsisters because she knew she’d get in trouble if she did. Her life was already hell; she didn’t want to make it worse, but every day she dreamed of getting out of there. She dreamed of something better, a life of beauty that was denied to her.
Now this sort of thing doesn’t happen always, but it does happen in fairy tales, which makes them all the more fiction than your average story-Cinderella found a way out. It wasn’t through hard work. That part’s not fiction. It was through a fairy godmother.
This fairy godmother granted her a wish, allowed her to taste the life that had been so long denied to her, allowed her to raise above the hell imposed on her by her stepsisters and shine for the rest of the world. And she did shine. She shone right in front of the prince of that land, and he fell for her right on the spot. But there’s something else that’s not fiction about this story, and it’s that things like this, freedom from the real world, come with a price. If she didn’t leave before midnight she’d change back to the way she was: poor, oppressed and unhappy.
But can you really blame her for losing track of time? For once in her life she was beautiful. For once in her life she was free. For once in her life she could touch the things that had been denied to her, and for the first time she experienced love. It was a new thing, a wonderful thing, a strange thing and a terrifying thing, but it was what she wanted most of all, what she felt all over and deepest in her heart. She had known perfunctory love, the kind felt towards family. But she had not known romantic love, and she had never known being loved by someone else.
So she lost track of time. She danced with the prince all night, to the envy of all the women around her. It was with great reluctance that she ran out of the castle that night when she heard the bell strike, and by the time she made it to the foot of the stairs she was too late: she’d been reverted. She’d gone back to who she was. But she left one memento from her time as a crowning beauty, and that was one glass slipper.
In the time they had spent together, Cinderella had become dear to the Prince. There was something about her that struck him as fascinating. She was so unlike other women. She wasn’t just pretty. She was honest. She made no big deal about trying to impress him. She just was. And that was so, so rare in the court, rare like a precious gem. So of course, he went looking for her. Went looking for the woman who left the glass slipper-with the promise that if he found her, he’d marry her.
Naturally, all the women went wild at this opportunity to move up in society. It was a big leap, like crossing the chasms of the Grand Canyon. The stepsisters were all over this, which meant Cinderella was repressed even more. Not that she cared; her life was made more miserable by her own embarrassment at what had happened, her own anger and frustration at her stupidity and her lot in life, and the memories of the Prince. The emotions tied up with those memories. She couldn’t let them go. She’d try push them aside, focus on her work, but they’d come whirling back again like paper caught in a cyclone. And that’s how she felt: like she was inside a cyclone, going in furious circles. It was hard to work under such conditions. When she heard news of the search, the cyclone only intensified.
Imagine how she felt when the Prince showed up at her house! As you can imagine, the shoe didn’t fit on any of the stepsister’s feet, no matter how much they tried to convince him otherwise. The poor Prince was disappointed. He’d been around the whole town and could find no one whose shoes fit in the slippers. He was starting to think Cinderella was an illusion. Of course she was. No woman in this place could be so beautiful and honest. He was in love with a woman who wasn’t real.
But by chance, he saw her, doing the tasks the women of the house had imposed on her: cleaning. He saw her and knew her and wanted her forever. The whole slipper deal was just icing on the cake. It fit like a glove. Or the perfect shoe.
As for the rest? Well: they lived happily ever after.