Cinderella [Angela Carter Style] Part 2

The trees in Frankenwald seemed to be higher since the war had ended, and all of Bavaria smiled and cheered in victory; but the maiden would clean at night and hear the celebrations that were echoed across the woods. How she would wish that the day would come in which she could once again be free to walk the great woods, during day light to the city. The day in which she could speak to someone, anyone, and not be terrified of what could happen. The maiden would dream about all the possibilities the World held for her during her chores, but she knew that dreams were for children that have no hope.

The maiden had grown since the war. She changed from the young girl who would clean and scrape to a young woman, who was fearless yet cautious. Her body was still wholesome; but now long, dark and dazzling hair fell to the small of her back, luscious red lips replaced the mouth where once a tongue would stick out to people who angered her and curves replaced the previously flat figure. She was an adult. She was the picture of her mother and all the other women she would dream of being like; but even more desirable, a seductress in her innocence and purity. A feline look that would make a man’s heart melt. One look that would make a man's loins burn with desire.

A few weeks after the commemorations had died down in the city of Steinwiesen, Frankenwald Woods didn’t whoosh the sound of uncontrollable happiness to the maiden’s ears. Yet something bothered her in the wind, a smell maybe. Not quite knowing what to think of such a sensation, the maiden carried on her chores. Still, the girl never shrugged off that feeling, and one night, when the moon was sitting high in the dark sky, the maiden ventured for a walk. Of course she was not alone. Accompanying her were some of her trusted rodents, and a knife her mother used to have with her at all times, even when entertaining guests. Her most prized possession, the only thing that protected her from all evil. The girl was certain that her step-father and sibling would be sleeping deeply, and so she discovered that she was correct, as the wind did seem to be whispering something. Her name? Who knows! What the wind whispers only those with gifts can decipher.

Already far into the woods, the girl began to feel a chill. It was cold very quickly, and the rodents quickly disappeared at the change of temperature. The trees seemed taller than ever before, they were closing in on her. A gush of wind passed by her, leaving her body in a tremble. Smoke started to veer in from every direction. She was surrounded. Trapped. Yet the girl stood her ground, holding the knife, pointing it straight ahead of her. She was petrified, but showed no signs of it. ‘Brave… foolishly brave!’ the smoke seemed to hiss at her. This truth that she had heard about her so many times before, from her mother, her step-father…  and now the wind and smoke. She let her guard down at the statement, and in the midst of all her desperation, the moon disappeared. A great black cloud had covered it. Would it rain? It seems not. Still, whatever happened next was of unnatural proportions. Weird cannot define what the girl witnessed, but her sight would not lie. Accurate, full certainty, her eyes would not lie to her; for her dignity was in constant threat and she knew that she could never risk it.

In a sharp whistle, under the darkness of the sky, a shadow came to life, from the smoke and the wind, something solid and palpable sat in front of the maiden. There was a dark aura about the creature that dismayingly sat there. It was a woman, of fair skin with long, blond hair caressing her ankles, and eyes the colour of the bright blue sky. Her body was repulsive in its own perfection, with her glorious breasts so delicately placed on her chest, and her curves softly meeting each other at points. Her nudity was not pleasurable to look at, but uncomfortable. When she turned her head and her eyes met with the maiden’s, you could notice the darkness of her face, the shadows had taken over her, and her complexion was tainted by something concerning, frightful and maybe even sad.
In less than a second her body flew across the thirty metres separating their bodies, and now her face was less than three inches away from the girl’s. Slowly the creature came closer, put her hand on the maiden’s ear, sending shivers down her spine; shivers of an inexplicable excitement - and in a cold and resonating voice she hissed: ‘something bad and dangerous brings with it something good and wonderful, do not be scared, but be prepared! Your future is…’ Interrupted? What was it? What did the maiden’s future hold? Once the moon was visible again, the girl was in her knees without realising and the creature gone, the knife next to her and a sound nearing.

Cinderella [Angela Carter Style] Part 1

Brief introduction before the story. This is something I wrote in the same style as Carter. Her adaptations of fairy-tales are quite fascinating to me, so this is the way I would have written Cinderella, had I been Carter [I guess!] This is part 1. Enjoy. :)

This is not the story of the beautiful maiden that cleans the house until a Prince sweeps her off her feet and saves her from such slavery. You are not in a place where happy endings come to you with nothing asked for in return. This is the harsh truth of the fairytale world we all idolise and only wish to be a part of. Being fair and belle comes at a price, and payment is high where we are. The house of desire was hidden deep in the Woods, secluded and solitary. A place where once upon a time sat the embodiment of felony, but in its place now rested quietly a being of overwhelming beauty and purity.
Every evening at dusk, the maiden is woken by rodents and amphibians that mean her no harm, but frighten her none the less. While it comforts her to find some company in her situation, she remains fearful of the lack of human contact. Still, there is a hidden blessing in her day-light sleep.

When she was younger, her house was light and inviting, with crowds and parties held frequently. As a child she never saw the dark side of what was happening in all the rooms. Her mother took very good care of everything, but being a Maître D’ in a house of pleasure and sin had its issues in society. Soon, she was obligated to retire from such a position and marry, in order to pursue a more respectful path in life. The maiden’s step-father was nothing close to courteous, neither were his two sons. There was an obvious difference between these three men and those that the girl was used to seeing around the house. The men she longed to be coveted by, were kind gentlemen, that one day would look to her for the shallow momentary affection. One day she would be in control of those men, just like her mother, and all the women before her. She too would be immoral. Beautiful. Desirable.

When her mother died, the child’s step father passed a decree: ‘When day light strikes and you find yourself awake as I walk these corridors, there is nothing you won’t do when I snap my fingers.’ Being brought up deep in the forest by women meant that she was aware of promises as such. She understood the mechanics of the male mind when it came to a possible femme fatale. She knew that she was safe as long as she walked at night and slept during day; safe in the one place where safety shouldn’t be sought. Expected to be like the Maître D’, the only hope and protection she had was her virginity, her untouched body and intact peach.

During her almost somnambulist like state, the maiden insured that her step-family was constantly under vigilance by her animal companions, so as to secure herself that once they awoke, she would be asleep. She’d prepare three meals that would simmer and slowly cook during the day, and at meal times her faithful yet frightful friends would set the table and put the food on the table. Never noticeable that they were the ones doing such deeds, the girl’s Master was never suspicious. She never did any of this because she had to, but respect for the dead is a big thing around here, and her mother was always so clean and tidy so she did the same. Everything had its own, rightful place and the little girl knew where everything was. She wouldn’t let it be out of place, just like her mother.

Some days he or one of his sons would knock incessantly on her door, and threaten to climb the stairs to the top of her tower, her humble abode, her safety net. Sometimes, even in her own little cellar, she would fake her sleep, for she knew He was in the room. He was the only person that possessed the Master Key to the House, so as he pleased he would walk in and out of her sleeping arrangements, always disappointed that his nudity and plans for the maiden were in vain, as she slept so peacefully and was protected by the wonders of a dreaming mind and her shut eye lids. Her Step-father wouldn’t dare interrupt the workings of a mind in slumber.
Yet the day came when the threat became less, as one of the Master’s sons went to war to fight and defend the German honour, and she would only have to be concerned about being hurt by two of three monsters. This eased her. During this time the maiden carried on cleaning, cooking, and sleeping.