The Princes Ball

The Princes Ball

The Prince announced the ball would end at midnight. That was when she ran. He would have gone after her, through the crowded ballroom, up the grand staircase, along the fancy corridor. But he didn’t. This was her story, the timing was all wrong.

He let her have a head start. He was after all a sporting Prince.

As one by one the courtiers danced he counted them off with impatient fingers then he was off. Through the crowded ballroom, up the grand staircase, along the fancy corridor.

He watched her leave in a pumpkin coach. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not on the guest list.” She replied with some sadness,

“I don’t care, tell me who you are?”

“Is it important?”
He considered her question then nodded, “Yes, it is.”

“What about the story?”

“The story doesn’t matter.”
She bit her lip and brushed a blonde curl out of her face, “My name is Cinderella.”

Nodding he watched her leave then turned to walk inside. A glimmer caught his eye. A lone shoe lay on the step. Picking it up he examined the glass slipper and smiled.

Reaching a nearby guard he murmured, “Find the owner of this shoe and arrest her, nobody gets into the Princes ball uninvited.”