Getting Rid of Cinderella

Written for:

Fantasy Flash Fiction Festival  (E) Submit your flash fiction or micro-fiction piece. Special Edition. #1515994 by Tricnomistal working hard...

[Word Count: 995]

I hated Cinderella. We all did. It wasn't that she had a detestable personality. Truly, she was a sweet young thing. But, her obsession with cleaning drove all of us out of our jobs.

Every morning, afternoon and evening, she would spend her time scouring the stone floors. “Here's a spot!” she'd exclaim and run over to scrub the floor vigorously, even though, try as any of us might, we just couldn't see the dirt she saw. But, Missus liked it. She liked saving money, too. She figured that with Cinderella hard at work, she could do without most of us.

A few weeks later, the Missus called an emergency meeting in her bedroom. Some emergency meeting. She dismissed all of us, except the cook (since Cinderella couldn't cook). “I don't need you now,” she'd announced grandly, flipping her hand as if shooing us away. “All I need is Cinderella.”

Now, look. It wasn't that we wanted to deprive Cinderella of her cleanliness exercises. But cleaning just wasn't her place as one of the members of the nobility! Everyone believed Missus to be some evil step-mother who ill-treated her charge. That wasn't true, at least a large part of it wasn't. Missus allowed her to learn how to sew, dance and play the piano side-by-side with her own daughters. In fact, on some rare occasions, Missus would even teach her how to read. But one day, all of a sudden, Cinderella developed this strange infatuation with cleaning. No matter how much Missus tried to stop her (after all, her image as a step-parent was at stake here!), Cinderella just wouldn't listen. So, eventually, Missus just let her be.

Well, that sealed the fate for the rest of us.

Do you know how difficult it is for unskilled labour to find jobs? Can you even begin to fathom the intense competition amongst maids to find employment? There were only so many nobility households, you know, and it was an employer's market. All of us had many mouths to feed. Mind you, the Missus had kicked us out without even a tiny bit of retrenchment benefit. So, whatever were we going to do?

Then, one of the chambermaids, Ida, hit upon this idea while the three of us were moping outside the mansion's back-door.

“Say,” she whispered, beckoning us to crowd around her, “I heard that the Prince is giving a ball this weekend to select a bride.”

“We can't go! We're not them! We'd be booted out even before we stepped through the gates!” I immediately shot down the idea.

“Yeah, and even if we got through, I doubt that any of us would interest the Prince. Look at us! Let's face it, we're no beauties!” my best friend, Kathe, chimed in.

“Oh, you silly girls! It's not any of us that I'm referring to. It's Cinderella!” That piqued our interest. “You know Missus. She's always so thrifty. Cinderella definitely won't be going to the ball this weekend. Heck, even Juliet (the younger daughter) has a slim chance of going.”

“We can't sponsor her! We don't have enough money to buy Cinderella a gown!” Kathe bemoaned.

“Well, in the forest, there lives a fairy godmother. She's been out of practice for a while, but I'm sure she'll be able to help us out!” Ida smirked, as if very pleased with herself.

“Hold on, hold on!” I held out a hand. “What has Cinderella going to the ball got to do with us getting our jobs back?”

“Don't you see?” Even the usually slow Kathe threw me an “Are you an imbecile” look. “With Cinderella's beauty, the Prince is bound to fall in love with her. And when that happens, Cinderella will be married off, and we will all get our jobs back without her around to fanatically clean everything!”

So! That was the plan! I was suddenly enlightened.

We all trooped down to the Fairy Godmother's cottage begging her to help us out. “I am out of touch with magic,” she protested. “My magic can only last till midnight.”

“Oh, midnight's okay,” we hastened to assure her, confident that by eleven, the Prince would have already proposed to Cinderella.

That night, Cinderella wore a beautiful gown with the most number of diamonds I've ever seen in my life studding it. We watched her spend a fantastic evening at the ball through the Fairy Godmother's looking-glass. Eleven o'clock came and went. No proposal. Eleven thirty. No proposal. Eleven forty-five. Still no proposal! My nails were bitten to the quick from sheer anticipation. Just as I was about to give up, Ida squealed, “He's going to propose! Look! He's getting down on his knees!” A wave of relief washed over me. Maybe we still had a chance!

But, before the Prince could ask her for her hand in marriage, the clock struck twelve!

Our eyes welled up with tears as she stumbled down the steps and fled into the enveloping darkness. Now, it was a definite lost cause. I turned to stifle my sobs. Good-bye, job, good - Just then! Kathe pointed at the looking-glass, “Look! Cinderella's lost her glass slipper!"

Ida recovered swiftly to plan our next move. "Given how smitten he was with her, he's bound to look for her with that glass slipper tomorrow. If he does, let's lead him to her!”

True enough, the next day, the Prince went out searching for her. Ida, the boldest of us all, whispered in the guards' ears and informed them of Cinderella's whereabouts.

When Cinderella's foot slid into the glass slipper, we knew our battle was won. We were going to get our jobs back!

Well, that was what we thought...

Until Cinderella decided to move the entire family into the Palace, rendering the cook unemployed, too.

Oh God, come to think of it, I was wrong. I still hate her! I hate Cinderella so much! If I get my hands on her...