Twisted Christmas Fairy Tale - #fridayflash

Hey, it's nearly Christmas. A time for tales. This story is vamping up the old Cinderella tale.

‘Cindy, please don’t go,’ the step-sisters begged.

‘I’m 18 years old! I’ll do what I want!’ Cindy snarled.

Philomena and Persephone looked on in alarm as they saw what Cindy had chosen to wear to the Prince of Darkness Christmas party – black, black and more black.

‘Er, Cindy, don’t you think you could lighten up with a touch of red? Here, take my Hermes scarf I've never let you borrow before. It’d go so well with that knockout dress, even if…er…you trail it out of your pocket,’ Philomena said hastily when she saw the murderous look Cindy sent her way.

Philomena was stunned at how white Cindy’s face was. Cindy had used her palest pancake make-up to top off her Gothic princess look. She could be a very young and elegant Helena Bonham Carter.

‘Cindy, do you realise how dangerous this rave will be? There’ll probably be all kinds of party drugs...’

‘Oh whsst Meanie! What are you worried about? You girls hate me. You’ve spent years humiliating me, making me do all the chores, making me stay home while you went out and had all the fun. Now it’s my turn to party. God, I’ve waited long enough. Nothing’s going to stop me now.’


Cindy leaned close to Philomena's Hollywood-style mirror and applied the last touches to her black eye make-up. She finished with a slash of black lipstick.


Philomena and Persephone stepped back in horror. Cindy had turned herself into a freak show. What had happened to her long blond hair, her tanned skin, her vintage dresses? Here was a stranger in a silk and net flowing dress with handkerchief hem, black onyx beads, black vamp stockings, black stilletos, black net elbow-length gloves...


‘Would you like us to style your hair, Cindy?’ Persephone asked, ‘I could put it up on top of your head,’ she said hopefully.


‘Don’t be ridiculous, Phoney. I’m a gothic princess. My hair stays down.’


‘Can I help you with your shoes then?’ Persephone begged.


‘Never ever touch my shoes,' Cindy growled, 'even if you're feeling a tad guilty about the way you treated me as your valet. Don’t bother. I’m well able to dress myself, something you've never learned to do. Look at you!’

Persephone ignored the slight. Without Cindy's help she knew she looked a fright. But Cindy was out for herself tonight and she deserved it after all the years of drudgery, Persephone had to admit.


‘What’ll we tell mum when she gets home?’ she asked.


‘Nothing. She’s always wanted me dead so there should be no problem there. It’s because of her I’ve got to wear these black gloves to cover my callouses. I’d hate the Prince to think I’m some lackey.’


‘Cindy! You’ve got to be home before midnight!’


‘Or what? I'll turn into a pumpkin? Don’t be ridiculous. The party will only just be getting pumped by then.’


‘But mum…’


‘If you think I’m worried about your mum, forget it. My mum’s the only one I answer to.’


‘But your mum’s…’


‘Dead. Yes, I’d noticed. Still, you’d be surprised how helpful she can be.’


With that, Cindy stomped out of the door, steel stilettos stamping an angry staccato on the tiles.

On the subway Cindy ignored the black looks the other commuters sent her way. She never cared what people thought of her.

While she hung from the strap she stroked her cross and said a little prayer to her mum. She’d just visited her grave that afternoon to tell her what she’d planned to do. The little white dove that settled on the grave had a message for her. She’d picked up the note with shaking hands and read:

 ‘Come to the Prince of Darkness party! Best-dressed prize! A private session with the Prince!’

She’d wept with bitter joy over her mum’s grave. When she was done crying her hazel eyes felt hard and dry. This was it. This was her time…

When Cindy arrived at the party the bouncers let her go right in, such was her proud bearing. They thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in her black, floaty dress. Her black jewels caught the light as did her black hair which fell to her waist in a river of silk. The bouncers escorted her inside, reluctant as they were to leave her side.

 

The party was pumping when Cindy made her entrance through the large black doors into the cave-like room flanked by the two enormous guards. Everyone was astonished at her beauty. The Prince himself, who’d been checking out the dancers from the atrium, flew down the stairs and instantly took her by the hand and danced with no one but her for the whole evening. No one else dared invite her to dance. They feared the Prince.

Cindy was so bold as to ask, ‘Why, Prince, are you spending the night dancing with me and me alone? There are many girls who are dying to dance. I can see it in their eyes.’


‘Exactly, my princess. Their eyes are already dead, while yours are alive with light.’


‘But not for much longer, my Prince. The light is just for you. I came for your kiss of death.’


‘Is that what you want, my princess? To be with me forever after?’ he leaned closer, kissing her delicious white neck with its throbbing pulse.


‘That is what I want my Prince. My earthly life finished long ago. This mortal life has nothing for me.’

In the Prince’s darkened rooms, Cindy received her last mortal wish.

It all went to her plan. The Prince knelt before her, removing her stiletto with its razor-sharp steel-spiked heel.

‘Yes, come, my Prince. Kiss me quickly.’

He took her into his strong embrace and began to kiss her with a long and lingering passion, before suddenly yet gently piercing her neck with her stiletto heel.

So much easier than biting through skin, he thought.

He bent over her to taste the divine life source.

'Ah, at last. My Princess has come!'

THE END

©DeniseCovey2010