Cinderella’s stepmom’s bones are tired.

Her body and skin getting old, a leather bag turned upside down.

Her blue piercing eagle eyes not what they used to be. So now she is forced to wear glasses that make her pointy nose look even pointier, like she is always searching for something with it. She is not.

She used to love slouching on her favorite blue silky couch, propping her feet up, drinking her warm jasmine tea, and enjoying doing nothing. Alas, now even this small pleasure of hers is gone, the stress taking over her aging brain.

You see, the thought of her two daughters Gertrude and Zeena is constantly on her already tired mind. As much as this pains her to admit to herself, she will never say it in public, they are not as pretty as Cinderella, her kind stepdaughter loved by everyone because her heart is as big and calm as the lake in front of her grotesquely furnished bedroom. Day and night, night and day she is concerned they will never get married. Hence, will stay at home with her for the rest of their miserably lonely lives.

Oh no! She cannot accept that. She will not accept that. Their constant nagging about this and that, how the toast isn’t crunchy enough for example, or how it has too much butter on it, or the curtains that are not closed all the way when they are already in bed and can’t bother to get up because why should they? There are servants for that. How is she supposed to live like this for the rest of her days?

Cinderella’s stepmom has gotten used to how people perceive her: as the unkind, shriveling middle-aged woman she has become, despite her effort of being the exact opposite.

If only they could take a break, though, and realize the type of pressure she carries; a backpack full of not precious stones strapped onto her aching shoulders, that she can never take off. Like Karna’s armor, only his is Divine. Adorning his chest. Made of gold and matching his earrings.  People need to stop judging her and once and for all mind their own business. Don’t they have anything better to do?

Moral of the story?

Be kind. You never know what goes on in someone else’s life. For real. 

Part of writing workshop day 3 .

The title was “Cinderella” and i had a lot of fun writing it in the 15 minutes we were given. This is usually not my style so i let my imagination take over, as i usually do. 

Thanks so much for reading. I’d love your comments.