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.