The Glass Shoe
After her father's death, Ella is mistreated by her stepfamily and becomes their servant. With magical help, she attends a royal ball where she enchants the prince. But will her kindness—the only thing the stepmother couldn't take from her—lead her home?
You are walking through the town square with your father on a spring afternoon.
A boy sits by the fountain, thin and hungry, his clothes threadbare.
Your father stops. He buys warm bread from a vendor without hesitation.
He tells the vendor that this boy needs it more than he does today.
You take the bread and offer it to him with a genuine smile.
He thanks you both quietly, gratefully.
Your father squeezes your shoulder. This is who you are.
Time passes. Your father meets a woman at a garden party.
He tells you she is lovely. She makes him laugh.
He asks you about marrying her, hoping this brings you happiness too.
You are happy for him. You wish him every joy.
A week later: the wedding. The woman and her two daughters smile sweetly.
But you notice something in the new stepmother's eyes—a flicker, something nasty, hidden beneath the kindness.
You try to ignore it. You welcome them into your home.
One morning, your stepmother wakes you with cruel news.
Your father is dead. A hunting accident. Gone.
That same day, her mask falls away completely.
She dresses you in ugly rags and gives fine clothes to her own daughters.
You are ordered to work as a servant in your own home.
Each evening, grief-stricken, you sit by the kitchen fire remembering him.
It is your only comfort. The only place you can cry.
Your stepsisters see you covered in cinders and ash, and they laugh.
They call you Cinderella. The name spreads through the household, then the town.
Then one day a messenger arrives on horseback in the town square.
Hear now: the prince hosts a grand ball tonight.
All fine ladies in the kingdom are invited to dance and be merry.
The prince seeks a lady worthy of his hand.
Your stepmother and stepsisters are thrilled by the news.
They begin planning elaborate gowns and schemes to catch the prince's eye.
Your stepmother's eyes find you with cruel certainty.
Cinderella, you are not a fine lady. You will stay home and tend this house.
Despite your heartbreak, you create two beautiful gowns for them.
You stitch each seam with precision and love.
When they depart in their finery, they do not thank you.
You stand alone as their coach disappears down the road.
Tears slip from your eyes. The evening stretches ahead—long, empty, and yours.
The kitchen is silent. The hearth glows before you.
The ball is happening somewhere in the palace, and you are not there.
The fairy godmother's hand glows with soft light. Around you, the kitchen begins to shimmer and change.