(derailed fairy tale)

 Cinderella awoke in the cellar, her hands raw from endless scrubbing. She didn’t question the task—it was all she knew. She didn’t dream about a better life, she could hardly  remember her previous carefree days, before her father passed away leaving her alone in this dark cellar.

One day, a light amber figure appeared: her Fairy Godmother. Where was she all this time? All these endless lonely days when she fought for survival among the people who were supposed to become her family.

“I’ve come to grant you freedom”, Fairy Godmother with an excited expression.

“Freedom?” Cinderella’s voice cracked.

“You’ll attend the ball.”

Cinderella’s rags dissolved, replaced by a suffocating gown. The shoes were made from glass, as comfortable as her life nowadays.

At the palace, the prince stood among the crowd, his back straight, his face blank. His gaze met hers, and in that instant, she understood: there was no escape from such a destiny.

No fairy tale ending. Only more of the same. She would marry the prince, become the queen, but nothing would change. The palace would be another cellar, gilded and vast, but a prison all the same…

As the clock struck midnight, she realized, with sudden clarity, that there had never been a Fairy Godmother. There had never been magic, no transformation, no escape.

There was only the endless waiting.