Hullo. My name is Cinderella, but you can call me Ella. I want to tell you a bit about my story...
First of all, let's get the facts straight. One: I am NOT a blonde. I am a REDHEAD. Not a ginger, a REDHEAD. Two: Talking mice? Please! Everyone KNOWS mice don't talk. It was the evil robots. And Three: There was no fairy god mother. I have no idea where THAT came from. Faries aren't real. It was a man. A very mad man, in a very blue box.
"Cinderella! Get over here and clean the kitchen NOW!" Screamed my stepmother. I sighed.
"Just a minute, 'mother'!" I hated calling her that. My mother was a kind woman, helping everyone else so much, she never had time to take care of herself, and eventually died. This woman was NOT my mother. If I didn't call her "mother", though, I would get slapped. So I did.
I cleaned the kitchen, the washroom, and the living room (we didn't live in a mansion like the stories say). Then the twins came up. A girl and a boy, actually. Gretchen and Don. They would go out of their way to find ANYTHING wrong with me.
"Hey, Cinders and Ashes!" They said, in the most obnoxious voice they could pull off.
"What do you want?" I asked, tiredly.
"Oh, we just wanted to tell you, you missed a spot." Gretchen smirked, as she dumped the remnants of her lunch on the floor before me.
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Poem / Poetry
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