Short Writings

A New Ending

A New Ending (Cinderella)

        "Ella, you must please forgive me."

        Even though I love the man before me, I couldn't bring myself to come to terms with it. Sure, I knew his biggest secret in the world, but I couldn't go back to that evil house. Sitting on the left side of our bed, I look over at him, his blue eyes holding guilt and too many other emotions to decipher.

        Sighing, I say, "It's alright, Char. We all love who we love. Who am I to judge you?"

        He grins at me, a small blush growing on his cheeks. "This is why I first loved you. I knew you would be such a great companion to have."

        A twinge of pain strikes my heart and I force a thin smile, "Thank you, well, I think, thank you?"

        "I'm so sorry, I really didn't know what else to do in this situation." He runs his large hands through his dark curly hair, and then letting them lay on the beige and gold bedspread. "My father doesn't even know that I'm..." He doesn't say the word. He doesn't say that instead of being fancied by women in low cut evening dresses, he's fascinated by the curves and playful smirks of gentlemen.

        "I understand. It's not very common for some of your status to be...pederasty." I continue to avoid saying the word he wanted me to say. He wanted me to break the ice instead of it being him. If he said it aloud, he knew that it'd be official and he couldn't turn back.

        "This is my plan, Ella." He slips from the bed and over to the tall, looming wardrobe where all of his finest suits hang. "I'll take everything, and then we will sneak off in the night. No one will suspect anything if we're silent enough."

        "The guards? You know that they are always on patrol since the break in involving my step sisters." I stand up, joining him at his closet. He pulls out his worn out sword and fencing gear: his only ordinary appearing clothes since it was ripped and stained with old blood wounds.

        "That's right," he mutters in contemplation. He waves his hand excitedly when a new idea arises. "How about this: we tell the King that we're going on holiday, and then we run. It'll be a quick escape from there."

        "Sounds splendid," I grin at him.

        The next few hours fly by as we pack away our belongings. I don't waste my time with all of the countless ball gowns the Prince has spoiled me with over the one year we have been married. Instead, I go to the hidden townspeople dresses and attire I usually kept in a drawer under a thick wool blanket. I often snuck out of the castle to go into the town to meet the locals and see my small group of friends.

        "You ready, Ella?" Char wipes a bead of sweat off of his forehead, his white dress shirt unbuttoned slightly, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even if he didn't love me the way every thought he did, I'm glad he was my dearest friend.

        "Yes," I tell him, holding up one of three luggage cases. I had my clothes in one, another filled with money -Char insisted that it was the least he could do to help me rebuild back my life- and the last filled with scrap materials I used to make gowns and shoes.

        Char drags his bags to the bedroom door and opens it, calling for one of the many guards and servants to aide us. He explains to the man of our holiday and how he needs him to hail a carriage for us. The man gingerly jogs to the grand staircase, to the carriage keepers most likely.

        "Let me get that for you, Sire." A new guard tells Char, lifting three of his bags into his arms. The man jogs to the staircase where the first man disappeared down.