From ashes to Ashes

To escape the truth, the story of Cinderella has been shaped, and distorted. It has been made to fit a narrative for those who seek to preserve the dreams, of the innocent. To maintain the illusion, that a triumphant God, defends virtue, and justice. Truth remains, however, that for some, hope only serves as a dystopian testimonial that creeps through your mind at night cloaked in righteousness to betray you. A portentous reminder that though you are sinless... you are abandoned to the cherubim of the Serpent.

Isabella, 17, brushed her dark hair out of her face, and nervously pulled it up so she could focus. her hands shook violently, as a storm of nerves rushed through her limbs, but her blue eyes narrowed sharply. The branches cried out, under her feet, each time causing her to pause in terror of discovery. The man, had been hunting in the area for a couple hours. His bright shiny gun glistening in the rising sun. It was early October, and the air expelled from the lungs of the hunters clung in the air like transparent specters. She ducked just behind him in the shadows, fighting off shivers in the cold.

She only had to be patient, a little longer. She watched him closely as he took a break in the early morning hours just as the sun came up. He lowered himself near a tree, and smeared creamy butter on freshly baked bread, cutting his thumb in the process. Isabella's stomach protested in hunger as she willed herself to stay focused while he enjoyed his breakfast bite by bite. She kept herself quiet enough in her errand, that the hunter didnt even notice when his blood marked utensil disappeared.

The sun now had been up for a while, and both he, and his illusive stalker were growing weary of the hunt. Suddenly, he caught a deer in the scope of his pretty gun. Time stood still, even the creatures of the woods seemed to fall silent and watch. Isabella could feel blood rushing to her limbs, as her heartbeat quickened. She made eye contact with the animal and the bang echoed through the hills. The barrel released its assassin, and the body of the deer fell lifeless on the ground before them.

Celebrating with a thrust of his fist into the air, the man ran to acquire his prey but as quickly as the bang took the life of the dear, the man stopped. He turned to face her direction, and in her uncles eyes, she saw fear. His hands began to reach at nothing, and a small cry sounded pitifully from his throat. Soon his whole body started to steam, like the air from his lungs had earlier. His knees hit the ground, and blood streamed like a river through the hole the bullet carved through his chest. As he fell, the dear behind him rose to her feet gracefully. She looked knowingly at Isabella. Nodding her head as a notion of thanks, the majestic creature turned, and walked away with the life of the huntsman.

He was dead, and now Isabella had to work quickly to gather the shoe, and the knife, and conceal the scene. She began by sealing the blood rite that took the life of her uncle. She placed herbs on his body designed to conceal her act, and bound his hand to the bloody knife ending the loop of death. She could feel the dark magic, pulsing in her fingertips as she quickly surrounded him with accelerant, and ignited the corpse into flames. "Ashes to ashes" she chanted as her eyes reflected the pyre.

* * *

November 3rd.

The air was brisk, and though it was only 5pm, the sky was entombed in darkness, with just a sliver of light on the horizon. The country aroma was warm, as fires were being lit in response to the chill. Leaves swirled across the dimly lit path in a chorus of whispers, just ahead of a team of horses pulling a small box that contained the remaining of a family of five above ground.

Their bodies almost bled into the darkness that surrounded them in the carriage where they sat motionless, and silent in their black mourning attire. It was as if the earth had swallowed their father, and the shadows had decreed to swallowed them. Charlotte, the now widowed woman, stared out the window, heeding each drop of the horses hooves taking her closer yet to a life alone. She felt that perhaps she was in a different kind of hearse, surrounded by her 2 natural daughters Anna, and Dorcas and her step daughter of 3 years.

Celine, 15 sat quietly, sending wishes in the darkness that she would see her father walking to meet them, and ending the nightmare. She had all but convinced herself that she had seen him holding a candle in the field out her window. The soft light of the flame illuminated his face, and she could just make out a glint in his eye, before her dreams couldn't keep up with the horses carrying her, and she was again confronted with reality when the phantom faded. A tear formed in the corner of her eye, and she hurried to stick her head out the window, hoping to see him. Her checks burned in the air, as the horse turned a corner, and began to ascend up a small hill to their new house leaving the old life, and her father behind them.

The trees hugged the path closely up the hill. Celine kept her head out the window, and watched her past as it grew more, and more distant at the corner. She turned to look at the house just as it came into full view, and shivered violently. It was a 2 story, ominous structure, saturated in melancholy. Perhaps it was the misty darkness that clung to the night that framed it. Perhaps it was the absence of wind, while the old porch swing compelled to sway, sang into the gloom an eerie chorus of rust and neglect. whatever it was, it only got stronger the closer they got until it stood over her as specter, drunk on abysmal truth.

None of the girls got out right away, the perpetual silence during their trip seemed to make their tongues lazy so the glances from one to another did all the speaking language couldn't. The wind outside the trees that surrounded them continued to rattle the branches, when the sound was interrupted by the coachman dismounting his perch atop the buggy. Clumsily his feet hit the ground, and he walked to the passenger door. All of the girls gave a panic stricken look to another before the door swung open.

"ladies..." he said helping each one out of the coach.

Celine approached the house, and stared at the cracking wood, and bowing stairs for what seemed like an infinite amount of time. Startled, she heard her step mom address the coachman, who was busy gathering their luggage.

"Thank you for your service this evening" She said dimly.

He nodded and left them alone in the darkness.

The candles were quickly lit. Anna and Dorcas entered the house first, creaking the ancient floor as they moved, followed by Charlotte, and lastly by Celine. All of them remained quiet, and the gaze of each drifted up the stairs in front of them. At the top there was a landing, and a hallway balcony, with tattered railing that ran along it. The train of girls followed closely to the other up the stairs, and down the hallway. There were 3 bedrooms in the home, Anna and Dorcas entered the second, while Charlotte entered the first, and Celine made her way to the last room at the end of hall.

She stood still for a moment as the door closed. The house spoke in creaks and moans around her. Celine cast her eyes about the room, cringing at the spiders in the corners, and slowly succumbing to her grief as it imposed itself upon her like an uninvited, but familiar guest. Her mother had died in childbirth, and though she didn't have memories of her, she had formed an intense love for her. She felt close to her through her cases of wonderful books, her fathers stories, and a beautiful orate wedding dress with crystal shoes. Her fathers estate went to the next male relative, and with it went the books that belonged to her mother causing Celine to now feel the loss of both parents simultaneously. Knowing the impending seizure of their possessions, Celine was careful to conceal the dress and crystal shoes packed delicately in a hope chest now at the foot of her new bed.

Her eyes began to overflow with tears unburdened by decorum. She sat next to her small candle, brought her knees to her chest and sobbed. For the first time since her father went missing, she was alone. She was consumed by memories of watching for him near the widow night after night convinced that he would appear but never did. It was not when they found his horse return without him, or when they found his charred campsite that she believed he was gone, nor was it when they lowered the mostly empty box into the ground. It was now... right now, she believed he was gone.

* * *

Isabella suffocated the fire, knowing the magic was gone, she reverently removed the knife out of the hand of the mostly ashen skeleton, and buried it carefully. This had to look like an accident. To ensure it, she took special care to create what looks like a camp, so that it would appear that his sleeping material caught fire. The smell of burning flesh prickled her conscience, but the anger in her swallowed it whole. She didn't feel guilty, her family got nothing. She shivered, and began to set the scene.

The royals, and their compatriots had a very unfortunate saying; The heir, and the spare. This was a very dark way of illuminating the cascade of inheritance obtained by royal children. The first boy, comes into all lands, titles and estates owned by his father. Most often these royal families have childREN, not just one child so the girls are basically given to their husbands who receive a dowry in exchange, but the second son... he gets forgotten, well, at least until some tragedy befalls his older brother. Isabellas dad was the unfortunate second son. She, and her family grew up in the shadow of her uncle David and his family. Isabella, and her cousin Celine were 2 years apart Isabella being the oldest, but it didn't take long to see, that years were not all that separated them.

Celine went to privet school, Isabella went to the poorly funded public school with dirt floors. Celine had a pony, Isabella cleaned its bed for a shilling. Celine had pretty toys that she shared with Isabella, who in turn went home to dolls that she made herself out of flour sacs and straw. Celine had beautiful blond hair, and striking features, and Isabella felt drab, with mouse brown hair, and a crooked nose.

Her uncle David did help the family, but what seemed like generosity to the outside, was received as provocation to Isabella, considering his enormous wealth. When her father James passed away of a heart attack, Isabella's mother sunk even deeper into poverty. At the age of 13, Isabella was sent to work as a maid for a wealthy Mistress in town. It was 10 miles away from her home with her mother, so 6 days a week Isabella stayed at the home of the madam she worked for. Making a bed near the fireplace behind the kitchen, she tried to make herself as small as possible to stay in the good graces of her mistress. On the 7th day she would walk home with money for her mother, visit for a couple hours, and begin her walk back.

During her time working for the Mistress, a new religion came into town. Before long, women all over were being targeted and labeled as witches. Most of them weren't, they were entrepreneurs, black smiths, working a trade, which was a new age mentality, and fearful men began to lash out in the name of a vengeful new God. Most women banded together because among victims, there were no enemies, but the witches hid among them, denying all accusations. Mistress Ardom was one of them. Married to a wealthy head of a royal house, she would go to social events with ladies in town, keeping him in the dark, she would discuss the new Puritan religion without a hitch. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, she learned everything she could, then, She would then come home to the old Gods. Late at night, she would scry and conjure to stay ahead of the hunters casting questions into the void. Isabella watched from the hallways in the dark, when she summoned the voices of entities, and learned from the deep, masking her forked tongue under the Sigil of the cross.

horror captivated Isabella night after night, as the house moaned with magic, but slowly, fear loosened its grip. Mistress Ardom, was well loved, had money. She had a silent husband who slept through her rituals thanks to an elixir she would dose him with at dinner to conceal her dealings with the pit. Her life was dripping with lavished influence. This was appetizing to Isabella who craved power. Power to shackle her enemies. Power to bring herself up from the ashes. So she learned. She stopped going home on the 7th day, for every moment she wasn't serving, she was diving deeper into the occult under the tutelage of Mistress Ardom. Soon, Isabella had magic coursing through her veins, till it was bursting forth like a waterfall of Nigromancy, Hydromancy, Pyromancy, Chiromancy, and Scapulimancy, fueling her rage. She became a master in divination, and fortune telling, a sorcerer in the art of bones and a proficient Puritan. Versed in the bible under the white cloak of innocence, she masqueraded as the niece of the mistress to many prominent gatherings. There she communed with respectable members of parliament, and church heads of powers, further hiding in the shadows of their God.

After a year of tutelage, Mistress Ardom was discovered. Her husbands suspicious colleagues conspired against her. She was sent to trial and burned less than 2 months later. Filled with fear of being discovered, Isabella stole a bag of shillings and fled home. Upon arrival, she ran in to share with her mother her earnings, but she discovered it was an empty shell, containing the corpse of her grief stricken mother, and full of flies and the incense of decay. She waited for her prodigal daughter to return until she was nothing but mold. Isabella collapsed with rage. All of the sadness had gone, and what was left was frenzied madness that rebelliously burst through the gates of her composure. Revenge obliterated the floors of her sanity, and flooded capacity to cope.

The sun was setting. She sat on the dirt floor of her house, looking at her mothers rotted face, and a darkness swelled within her. Rage swirled and she decided to take what she deserved. She planted the seeds of revenge. That night, Isabella went to her cousins house for a visit, and left with a pretty sparkly shoe.

Returning in the evening of early October, after killing the huntsman, Isabella heard the tolling of the 7pm bell. The sun had been set for a couple hours, and she passed the house of her cousin Celine.

"Isabella!" Celine shouted from the wooden gate at the perimeter of the yard.

Celine and her family were standing in the yard playing games, lighting pumpkins.

"Hello" Isabella replied, subconsciously brushing away the soot and cinder from her dress. "What are you all doing this evening?"

Celine replied that they were waiting for the return of her father from hunting, and that she was welcome to join the festivities of the night. Isabella graciously accepted. With a soft smile she assimilated herself among her enemies, and at an unknown time in the evening, before the parting of company she carefully replaced the shoe of the deceased mother, and left the family in looming reality, of a departed father.

* * *

2 Years had passed since Celine had lost her father. She, her Step-Mother, and siblings had restored the ominous house, and filled it with joy and laughter. The gloom of loss became an archaic memory, and the walls began to fill with new memories. Their money was little, but they began to flourish in other ways. They made friends, bought chickens, and began a small garden. Charlotte remained a notable lady of repute due to her late husbands station, and though it didn't put anymore food on the table, it did put them in line to receive insides from the royal court. Specific information, such as a party thrown for the Prince in his coming of age to marry. All families with eligible young women got an advanced invitation prior to the announcement of the gala.

Obviously, this filled the whole house with glee. While Anna, and Dorcas ran from closet to closet, throwing one article of clothing out after another, Celine walked quietly to the cedar chest at the foot of her bed. The window was open expelling warmth and light into the room, and the birds next to it were singing gleefully as the sun shone directly in through the trees, casting rays of light on the sparkly, and ornate dress folded therein next to a glistening pair of shoes.

She carefully lifted the beautiful, baby blue dress out of the cedar chest. The beads, and crystals cast patterns of light that danced on the walls around her. The dress felt heavy, and looked brand new, as if the chest at the foot of her bed had been a doorway to the past. She held it up to her body in the mirror, she imagined her mother and smiled. Gently, she laid it out on her bed and leaned over to gather the shoes. She felt a commemorative tear grace her cheek, as she recalled the last memory of pulling out the shoes. Her father was standing by the fire place smoking a pipe, and watched her celebrate her 13th birthday attempting to put her foot in hoping it would fit.

* * *

Isabella, had been waiting for her revenge to pay off, and now, 2 years later, she remained with the rotted corpse of her mother, and nothing left but rage, and blood. Celine was prospering, not suffering, and Isabella was sinking ever deeper, and deeper into madness. Her aura grew more shadowed, as she sat by the fire casting bones in the dirt to inquire of the chasm. The grimoire next to her detailing the sacrifice necessary for the kind of magic she sought. The bloody knife, and shoe, were enough to kill the huntsman, but this time she needed more... it needed to be a spectacle.. There, in the hole of her violent antagonism, she heard a voice call from the inferno. The utterance from the pit tantalized the darkness within her, and in response, she thrust her left hand into the blaze before her pleading, with he who is on the left hand of God. She smelled the flesh beginning to peel off her bones, and tremered with excitement, while offering her sacrifice. She then placed what remained of her cadaverous palm to the surface of her cheek. With a gale of fury she dug her bones into the skin, and began to rip vengefully at the neat flesh until it was severed, mangled, and burnt. Blood streamed down her neck, and into her gown as she chanted for the serpent to hear "ashes to ashes, ashes to ashes" and the shoe, which had been touched with dark magic before, vibrated with power once again.

* * *

The night of the Gala had finally arrived. Anna and Dorcas were absolutely giddy with excitement and running from end to end of the home exchanging hair trinkets and makeup until everyone was ready but Celine. She hurried to finish up her chores with a skip in her step that included feeding the chickens in the coup. As she stood in the dark she caught a glimpse of the scarecrow standing in the garden. She approached it slowly, and unbelievable horror gripped her to see her mothers wedding dress, blood soaked, ripped and stained draped about its figure surrounded by a circle of dead chickens and bones.

The night had taken a turn for the worse as fear, bickering and blame spread through the house like venom. It was as if the specter of contention had made its way through the doors of their once happy home and was resolved to contaminate the joy they had all worked to achieve. Before they knew it Charlotte, Anna and Dorcas were on their way to the Gala, and Celine was crying at the foot of a disgraced lawn statue. Suddenly, in the gulf of her despair, she heard a rustling in the tree line.

"Is... is someone there?" she said shakily.

"Yes." Came an answer in a chorus of voices.

"Sh... show yourselves." Celine said bravely.

"I can help you." said the voice(s) dragging as if some had been left behind.

A form began to emerge from the trees at the edge of the lawn. It moved as though it didn't have feet, floating like a ghost dressed in black.

"Who are you" asked Celine a little scared searching the edge of the trees for others.

"I am at your service" Said the phantom.

To her terror, Celine became undeniably aware that the voices were coming from this single apparition. She tried to get closer but was discouraged against another inch. She could make out one side of the form was covered by hair and a rather large hood while the other looked disfigured, with its hand limp at its side.

"How?" cried Celine, her voice cracking with sadness.

"Go to your room Celine, you will see that your dress is back where it belongs." The form advised.

Either in fear or hope, Celine ran to her room, and there it was, sure enough, perfect. She turned to face the dark doorway panting and confused where the figure entered.

"What is this?" Celine managed to get out.

"This is exactly what you wished for" said the figure. "You wished to go to the Gala and meet the prince, did you not?"

"I did... she began but how?" Celine inquired trepidatiously.

The phantom circled the room, and collected the shoes from the cedar chest. Careful to remain in the shadows, it stood near the window, held out the shoes and said;

"The how is not important" the form continued with its harmony of voices "You will endear the Prince, you will dance and the night will be enchanting, but you must be home by midnight."

"Why midnight?" Celine asked.

"The magic only lasts the day. After midnight, it will end." Said the specter.

Celine lowered her head, overwhelmed and managed to ask "How do I get there?"

"leave that to me" said the apparition as it glided to the door and down the stairs.

Celine pulled her hair into a bun with trinkets from the trunk and looked in the mirror at her reflection after she had clothed herself in the beautiful gown. The candles in the room caused the gems to sparkle and dance about the room like fairies in the darkness. She put on the shoes, and followed the shadow down the stairs, and out the front door where she was met with a carriage and a team of horses.

"How... who? Celine started and was answered by the shadow figure, standing near the back of the coach.

"The pumpkins on the doorstep made a sufficient coach, and the field mice made fine horses and coachman." the figure sang darkly. "just remember, "the magic ends at midnight"

Celine stared at the fantastic workmanship of the white carriage and white horses. She stared into the black eyes of the coachman and saw no life, only the magic that made them. She hesitated, and the figure impatiently declared:

"The stage is set Celine, your future is up to you now, go or don't its up to you"

Celine arrived at the Gala, and stood at the closed entrance nervously. The footman turned the knobs on the great doors and just like that, she was whisked through the gateway to another world. A world with golden chandeliers, grand staircases, and silk napkins. The people in this world seemed to sparkle. They were flawless, all full of otherworldly smiles, and regal correctness. They seemed to glide as they danced in uniformity, while the music carried them on the wings of enchantment.

Suddenly, there he was, the prince. She picked him out almost immediately. The hall, at whose entrance she stood shaking was great and golden and ornate. In between her and the most beautiful man she had ever seen there was a sea of dancers, conversations and giggling girls but he.... he saw her. His determined walk to her was sure and steady. Celine fidgeted in her unfamiliarity, she almost turned to leave, but he was standing in front of her. He gave her a nervous smile and her insecurity fluttered away. She felt a flood of warmth and returned his smile.

As predicted, she and the Prince Silas, danced into the night. The drinks at dinner reflected off her heart and the light of the hundreds of beautiful candles on the walls, in the great hall. The music was mystical and played music fit for the heavens as her dreams unfolded before her. As the evening began to wind down, girls began make their defeated exit as it had become clear that the prince had made his choice. Silas walked Celine past the open door, and to the steps leading to her buggy. The party had filtered out to the street lit by strings of candles and lanterns strung across the assembly of waiting coachman. He took her hand and asked to steal a kiss. Her heart fluttered and she leaned in to accept when the bell began to toll loudly. She jumped and was filled with fear.

"No!" she exclaimed loudly.

"No?" he asked confused with a little concerned giggle.

"No, I mean yes, but I cant I have to go!" she exclaimed as she ran down the stairs, and as she did she lost her mothers shoe. The Prince, enamored by her shy departure, reached down to pick up her shoe, and as he did he began to make a strange coughing noise. He stood up holding the shoe, and with his other hand began to claw at his throat. The shoe fell to the ground and the Prince fell to his knees now attempting to cry out past the gurgling in his throat.

The clock continued to chime as people began to notice the struggling royal and watched in horror but no one dared move. Celine looked behind her, and to her terror the crowd had gathered to watch as the prince began to turn blue, and contort wretchedly. His bones broke loudly and his cries were hideous and deafening as his body changed and died before them. In a crude memorial of the display over which her dress was hung, Straw and wood began to burst forth from the neck of the prince. His skin shredded under the pressure, and his arms erected outward as from below, his body shot up from the ground and set upright in the center of the courtyard a scarecrow surrounded by lifeless silent bodies and Celine stood before them in the blood soaked dress.

The silence only lasted as long as it took for someone to connect that the horrific display only began once the prince touched the shoe.

"Witchcraft! Demons work!" cried a voice in the crowd.

"He... the prince was with HER all night!" said another frightened patron.

Some people began to run fear struck and terrorized by the events that unfolded, and in the darkness, emerged the the cry to burn the witch! Suddenly, Celine found herself bound in cords that ripped and cut her as though she were bound in glass. Though her night had started out as a dream, it was quickly swelling into a ghoulish nightmare. She began to struggle confused, and hurt she called for her mother and sisters but they couldn't hear her. They were among the crowd begging for her life, but on deaf ears. The nights festivities turned violent and bloody as the crowd carrying Celine to her doom passed the bloody display of the dead prince on the doorsteps of his parents home. Charlotte, Anna and Dorcas, too scared to continue, simply stood back from the horde of people, held each other and covered their ears when they heard her scream as the flames licked her ankles and traveled up to bath her in agony.

Isabella, having completed her heinous objective witnessed Celines soul get delivered to the father of lies, and danced from the hills beyond town:

"Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, corrupted by power and drunk with lust. The fires are hungry, and dripping with ire, you'll join us in hell from your funeral pyre"

The story of Cinderella has been corrupted as from riches she began, and to cinder she became.