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The Most Beautiful, and Most Clever
Cinderella was the daughter of a rich man, which gave her quite good standing in society. She learned all the polite and nice things that a girl of her position would learn, like which fork to use when eating different foods, and how to fake a laugh when a social situation calls for it. She was a perfect lady, when one looked only at her outward appearance. But inside she was secretly a very rotten and selfish girl. She wanted a flawless life, riches, and pretty things. So when her mother died, she wasn’t heartbroken, as she did not care for her as a loving daughter should, and simply continued plotting her perfect life.
Her father, like all men with money during this time, became lonely, and eventually married again. The woman he married was very plain, without a hint of interesting personality, and she had two daughters. These daughters took after their mother, in that they were perfectly average ladies. There was no spark of ambition in them. One day Cinderella had an idea, a perfect idea. She went out into the city, no one in her family willing to question her. As she walked, dozens of boys tried to get her attention, but she paid them no mind. They were nothing, no social standing, no worth.
Eventually, she found what she was looking for, a dark tent in the corner of the never-ending market in the beating heart of the city. She walked inside, with the arrogance of someone who was sure of every step she took. The inside of the tent seemed almost bigger than the outside, and there were shelves upon shelves of what looked like useless trinkets. She ignored them completely and approached the bent-backed crone towards the back.
The crone looked up, and croaked, “What is it that you desire, fine lady?”
Cinderella, impatiently, said, “I desire everything, I want the world at my fingertips.”
The crone cackled with delight, as she pulled out a small bag, “Take these, and plant them in your garden. With them, you will have all that you desire.” Cinderella took the bag, and without a glace back, left the tent, and the market. As she arrived back at her home, she immediately went behind the house, to the stretch of green grass and colorful flowers. She knelt down in the dirt with disgust, and opened the bag, flinching as she saw what was inside. As she lifted the first (presumably human) eyeball from the bag, she set it inside a small hole in the dirt she had created with a small shovel. After planting the remaining 3 eyes, she went back inside, and went to sleep.
The next day, she checked on them, with no changes. This repeated for a week, no change whatsoever. Feeling cheated, she tried to go back to the crone’s tent, but found that it was gone, along with every strange thing inside. Furious that she had been deceived, she went back to the buried eyes, and furiously tried to dig them back out with her hands, shovel forgotten. Her fingernail caught on a rock in the soil, breaking, and she cried out. She pulled her hand away from the soil immediately, and saw the blood staining her finger, as well as the ground beneath. Tears welling in the corner of her eyes, from anger or pain, she did not know, she went back inside to clean the blood and dirt from her hands.
As she calmed down, her blood cooling in her veins, she went back outside to finish the job with the forgotten shovel. She nearly dropped it in surprise, as a twisted, blackened tree stood where there had been nothing before, right over where her blood had fallen. Still unhappy, she walked to the base of the now towering tree, nearly three times her height, and put her hand against the trunk. How was this supposed to give her what she wanted? In her anger and frustration, she shouted out, “I wish people would simply give me anything I could want for! Why can nothing be as simple as I want it to be?” Suddenly, the wind started to pick up, and the branches started creaking, creating a discord of screeching wood. Then, as quickly as it came, the wind died down, and the tree fell silent.
She walked back into her house, and was greeted by her father, who smiled at her lovingly. She despised it. She didn’t need his love, didn’t want it. He couldn’t give her what she truly seeked, power, and admiration from all. Suddenly, as if hearing the very thoughts in her head, he turned and immediately walked out of the room. Strange.
As the sun began to lower along the horizon, she had dinner with her family, a usually dreadful task, with all of them trying to converse with her, believing her to be their friend. But tonight, there was nothing. Complete silence. They all still came, and still ate, but there was not a word of conversation directed towards her. It was like paradise, and she began to wonder if that wretched tree did its job after all. Now that she knew it worked, she began putting her plans into motion. She had heard about a prince, some highborn boy, who lived in a nearby city, and who had finally allowed his father to see him wed. But with one condition, that he would have three large dances, and that he would pick his bride from whosoever caught his heart. The king, happy to give his son all that he asks for, agreed.
Cinderella may have been incredibly intelligent, but she was also prideful. She did not think she had to use her powers to seduce one boy. Afterall, she was perfectly beautiful, and perfectly elegant. So she went to the party, dressed in the most dazzling dress she owned, and began to attempt to gain his attention. But for some reason, the prince never even looked at her, dancing with all, from the peasants to the giggling ladies, but never her. She was enraged, but knew she could still succeed. Clearly, this dress was not enough, she needed to look more amazing, look like a queen. So that night, after the first dance was over, she went back to the gnarled tree in shame.
“I wish for a dress that outshines all others, a true work of art.” And as the wind picked up, she beheld a silver dress, like the shine of the stars captured into fabric, hanging from one of the twisted branches. As she grabbed it greedily, and went back inside, she began to talk to herself. “Now he cannot miss me, and I will be the only thing he can look at.” And the next day, she went. But the same as the last day, the prince danced with many, of high and low standing, and the same as the last day, spared her not a glance. She stormed out of the dance once more, going back to the tree, and demanding an even more astounding dress, one that no one could look at and ignore. And as the tree gifted her another dress, deep colored gemstones shining across it, she went back inside once more.
Tonight, the final dance, she knew it would be the one. She walked in, all eyes on her, confident in her excellence. She walked directly up to the prince, staring him in the eyes. But he seemed to glance past her, eyes unfocused, and simply walked by. Shaking with fury, embarrassed beyond belief, she ran home, to the wishing tree. She asked to know why, why did he act as though she simply wasn’t there. And the tree, not gifted with speech, simply showed her, as that wind picked up once more, and she was pulled towards the tree, trapping her against it.
The creeping branches moved closer to her face, until they crawled into her eyes, ripping them out, as payment. As she heard a cackle, seeing nothing but darkness, she screamed, in anger, frustration, and in terrible, horrible pain and understanding. For the tree had given her what she asked, had told her why she went unnoticed, why she now kneeled here, seeing nothing. She was filled with shame and painful regret. The prince, whom she tried to seduce with her appearance alone, was blind. She lived the rest of her life without sight, and with none seeing her beauty, past her empty sockets. All they saw was her rotten, worm riddled soul.