Prompts; sniffle : font : northern : powdered : pick a card
She hid a sniffle as she hid in the corner. It was dark here and there was no one to see her. Her mother and sisters had gone on, saying she couldn’t go, she was too young. They weren’t here to see her cry. Her mother couldn’t sigh at her, her sisters couldn’t try to make her laugh. She could cry if she wanted, if only to show others how wrong they were. And they were so wrong.
Oh, but she was hungry. She wiped the tears off her face and made herself sit up straight. She had gone without food for so long in an effort to fit into the dress. She had silently hunted her sister’s clothes while she slept at night in the dark, and last night she had found the perfect one to wear to the palace. Midnight blue, all shimmering wonder and whispered promise. It was hidden in her wardrobe, ready for her to put on now that the others had gone on. She would wear it, and be marvellous, and the prince would fall in love with her. Not with anyone else, or with them, but with her.
The font on the invitation, sitting on the mantelpiece, was perfect, so fancy and dainty. His Royal Highness requests the pleasure. Pleasure. She wriggled her toes in anticipation. All she had wanted was to feel pleasure as was her right. Instead, she was made to work, to clean up after herself, to earn money for things. Father had always had people to do these things, but now her Stepmother and sisters wanted her to learn. To cook, to sew, to mind her money. Money! As if she would ever have to think about such things! She was going to marry a wealthy man, and stay at home, and never have to think of such things. Work was for others, and all this was just nonsense.
She’d prepared for tonight. She’d hidden the invitation her stepmother had said she was too young to use. She had the dress ready to go. All she had to do was to powder her face and to dress her hair. These couldn’t be too difficult, the maid did it when she was here, and the maid was stupid. Poor people were. She would arrive at the palace and the prince would be swept away and everything would be wonderful. Just wonderful. She stared into the middle distance at this magical promise, at this delight. She would show her stepmother and sisters, she would be the belle of the ball. She’d show them. She’d show them all.
Hints of Cinderella here, though it takes a curious turn in the last paragraph. I want to hate this character throughout most of this narrative, and by the last paragraph I finally get an explicit reason to do so. She is self-absorbed, self-pitying, out of touch … yet somehow I still pity her for these deficiencies. I hope I’ve not misread our little bell?
You’re spot on. I saw her very much as an untested spoiled child. She’s very unaware of how foolish she is partly because she is so young, and it is this ignorance of the real world that has led her Stepmother and stepsisters to think there is some hope for her. I’d say she’d have some rude awakenings before she grows to real maturity, however.