Fiction Vortex - July 2013

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  Samantha bought the misfortunate girl a whiskey to calm her nerves, and then walked with her out of the thick of London. The girl hiccupped and wobbled, but managed a smile as they wandered through the quiet houses outside the city.

  “What is your name?” Samantha asked, catching the girl before she doddered off onto the grass.

  “Eleanor. Ella.”

  “Do you remember where you live, Ella?”

  Ella nodded vigorously and continued to jabber with her Cockney tongue. Samantha had to spend the rest of the walk fending off questions about whether she was a witch, a ghost of a relative, a mermaid. Ella had had a lot of whiskey.

  The smile fell from Ella’s face when she arrived at the pebbled walkway of her magnificent house. It shone from the windows of all three stories, making the white pillars and grand steps of the house glow warmly.

  “Off you go, dearie,” Samantha nudged.

  Ella tried to protest. “Take me wit’ you.”

  “No, this is your home. Go.”

  As Ella trudged up the garden path and climbed the stairs, her feet grew heavy. Samantha flitted behind a hedge-sculpture of a hedgehog. Ella banged the great doorknocker and was met by a servant who yanked her into the house, crying, “About time you turn up!”

  Samantha discarded her coat to stretch her iridescent wings and fly up to one of the windows and peer inside. Ella was sitting on the floor, sniveling as two misshapen girls leered over her. One was very bony and tall, the other squat and round. Samantha tapped the window’s glass with her wand to suddenly and clearly hear what the commotion inside was.

  “The nerve you’ve got, you prat.”

  “You prat.”

  “Wandering about and leaving all your chores. Some nerve!”

  “Some nerve!”

  “You ought to go a week without supper.”

  “Two weeks!”

  “Oh, that’s delightfully horrid.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ella covered her crying face with her hands.

  Another woman entered the room, much older, holding aloft a huge lavender envelope. She took one look at the scene before her and demanded, “What’s this?”

  The tall stepsister said, “Sooterella has been gone all day.”

  “All day,” the squat sister said.

  “Never mind it!” the mother said. “You two should get to bed right away for beauty sleep. In a week, there’s going to be a ball.”

  “A ball?” the tall one said.

  “A silly ball?” the squat one said.

  “Silly? The whole kingdom is invited! This ball is to be hosted by the prince!” The sisters squealed. “He’s looking to find his bride!” More squealing. “And one of you darlings will be it! Imagine it, just think of it!”

  The two stepsisters linked arms and danced about the well-furnished drawing room, nearly kneeing Ella in the process. The stepmother, dripping with jewels and wrinkles, seemed to notice Ella on the floor for the first time. “I shall respond back to the palace at once, writing that my two daughters shall be attending.” Ella whimpered and looked to the floor. “Where have you been all day, Eleanor?” she asked in a deadly soft voice.

  The two sisters stopped dancing and watched as their mother advanced on Ella. The tall one spoke up, “Cinderella won’t say.”

  “Won’t say? Then she doesn’t eat. And she deserves a whipping.”

  A painting crashed to the floor at the mother’s feet. Everyone gasped. Another painting fell, and another, and then a large vase crashed into pieces, making the sisters scream. “What’s happening?” the mother yelled.

  Another painting flew straight at the squat sister’s head. She lunged for the floor and wailed, “Poltergeists!” Ella, the only petite one, crawled under a sofa while flying paintings and ricocheting mantle pieces chased the family out of the room. They ran screaming down the halls, locking themselves into rooms.

  Samantha appeared in the drawing room, picking up the discarded lavender envelope and inspecting it. “You can come out now, Ella.”

  Ella choked and popped her head out from under the sofa. “You!”

  “Yes, me. Your step-sisters are awful, you’re right.”

  “Indeed,” Ella sighed and pulled herself out from under the sofa. She wiped her eyes and stared at Samantha. “Your wings. Are you me fairy godmum?”

  “Not without the paperwork.”

  “‘Scuse me?”

  “Nothing.” Samantha flapped the envelope at Ella, thinking furiously. “You’re going to this ball.”

  Ella laughed bitterly. “In what? Dish towels and spider webs?”

  Samantha fingered her wand, and smiled like the Cheshire cat.