Cinderella's Project

         “Cinderella! Cinderella!”
         Cinderella, with a small sigh, entered the room where all the shouting was coming from. “Yes, stepmother?”
         “Why haven’t you finished cleaning my daughter’s rooms?”
         “I haven’t had time-“
         “Excuses!”
         “But I-“
         “Silence!” Cinderella dropped her head. The stepmother continued. “You have much work to do today. You will start with their rooms.”
         “Yes, stepmother.”

*****

         “Take care of the mending,” ordered one of the sisters.
         “But I just mended this dress yesterday!”
         “So it tore again. Shows what a lousy job you did.”
         “But-“
         “Why do you always have to argue? Just do it!”
         “Yes, stepsister.”

*****

         It went on like this for some time. All that Cinderella asked was that she be allowed a little bit of free time in the afternoons and that she could keep some of the fabric scraps from sewing their dresses. She never was given the free time but they said she could have the scraps.
         “A curious request,” said the stepmother. “What do you plan to use them for?”
         “Just – a project,” Cinderella replied quietly.
         The stepmother smirked. “Very well. But it won’t make a very pretty dress, I’ll tell you that much right now.”
         Not too long after that, the famous letter from the king arrived.
         “Why can’t I go?” Cinderella demanded. “The letter says any eligible maid may go to the ball. In fact, it says they must come.”
         The stepmother glanced over the letter. She handed it to her older daughter. “She is right. I suppose she may come, if she gets her work done.”
         Cinderella’s eyes glittered with a light from within. “Thank you, Stepmother. Oh thank you!”
         In spite of her stepfamily’s efforts to keep her too busy with work, Cinderella completed all of it with a few hours to spare.
         “Well,” huffed one of the sisters. “You think you’re going to make a big impression in those rags? I should think not!”
         “Yes,” the other joined in. “Don’t you have anything nicer to wear than those rags?”
         Cinderella’s eyes snapped. “What do you expect me to wear?”
         “Perhaps you can dig around in that bag of fabric scraps upstairs that you’ve been collecting and make something,” the first snickered.

*****
         Cinderella spent her free time that evening working on her big project in the quiet confines of the attic. Before it was finished though, she heard the wheels of a coach on the cobbles below. Drawing aside the curtain just a tad, she saw that it had stopped in front of their chateau. She took one last glance at her project and heaved a great sigh. Then she turned and went downstairs. The family was gathered in front of the mirror in the great room, primping, putting on the last minute jewels and feathers.
         “The carriage is here.”
         They turned around, looked at her in her rags. The sisters shared a smile.
         “Oh, of course,” said her stepmother. “Why, Cinderella, you’re not ready child!”
         “I’m not going,” Cinderella dropped her eyes.
         “Not going? But I thought you wanted to go to the ball!”
         “I did but-“ she glanced to look back up at her stepmother. “I was not able to finish in time.”
         “Well, you can hardly blame that on us.”
         “No,” said Cinderella, quietly. “No, it’s my own fault I didn’t get started on this sooner.”
         The family whisked their way out the door, their skirts swishing on the marble floor. Cinderella watched as they were helped into the carriage, and driven in the direction of the castle. Then she closed the door.
         But Cinderella shed no tears. The look of quiet submissiveness that she often wore was replaced by a look of strength and determination.
         “There’s still time,” she said to herself and ran up to the attic. She left the door open this time as there was no one to intrude while she was busy. She grabbed the basket of scraps and the tools she needed and set to work.

*****
         Hours later the carriage returned. Cinderella hurried downstairs and was waiting for them when they returned in the grand entry room when they came in.
         “He danced with me,” one of the sisters exclaimed.
         “And with me, and he was so handsome!” the other cried.
         But the stepmother uttered not a word. She stood with her mouth agape, staring at Cinderella.
         “Cinderella,” she whispered. “What are you doing, child?”
         The sisters heard a high pitched hum and looked up. There, in the middle of the room was a giant silver machine. It was a round globe, made of all sorts of bent pieces of metal. At the side, a small furnace glowed hotly, and there stood Cinderella, dropping one scrap of fabric after the other into it, feeding the flame that gave the machine life.
         “Who needs a fairy godmother?” she said, and punched a red button. The top of the machine opened and the barrel of a blaster extended. Before they had time to run- zap! the stepfamily was at once turned into mice! They ran in circles, squeaking in little mouse voices to run away, but Cinderella was too fast for them. All her years of mousing finally paid off and she had them all in a cage in a matter of seconds.
         She set them on the mantle in the great room, right in front of the big mirror.          “So you can admire yourselves,” she said. She turned around to look at the house that was now hers, seeing it as if for the first time, the gleaming floors, the fine furniture and the drapes. She would take it all down of course, make it into a laboratory for her scientific work. She already had the mice that she needed. A wide grin split her face.
         “Who needs a fairy godmother?" she shouted. "Who needs a prince? It’s mine, it’s all mine!”