Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Comedy · #1794291
once upon a time, there was an evil step-sister
|I blame Nella—or at least I would if I dared open my mouth. She tricked me. That’s all there is to it. And now she’s off living my happily ever after while I’m stuck with a yard full of toads. But I don’t complain—at least not out loud. |
It could be worse. Just look at Mother.
But that’s starting at the end of the story. So, back track to about a week ago. Well, maybe we should start out with Mother’s second husband—Nella’s father. Mother insisted that it was true love, but when we moved in, we discovered that the bastard had just married her for free babysitting. Perfect little Nella—he always loved that motherless brat more than anything else. She even stole my birthday—or to be more correct, she’s five hours and forty-seven minutes younger than me.
When he died, we laid down the law—gave her some chores to get her lily-white hands dirty. Nothing I hadn’t been doing for years while her loving daddy was alive. I never mistreated her and I’m tired of all the nasty insinuations.
About a week ago, the gardener reported that the well in the back garden had gone dry. Nella and I went out to look, and somehow she fell in. I was nowhere near her back side when it happened—it wasn’t my fault.
I ran to tell Mother and we called down after her but no response. Mother was concerned—and was about to send me down after her, when with a flash and a sparkle, Nella appeared again in this gorgeous gown like she was some sort of fairy princess with jewels and gold falling from her lips every time she spoke.
She told us this outlandish tale about this magical land and an old woman who’d liked her so much that she’d been awarded a fairy gift. Imagine, Nella with a fairy gift.
Just then the prince rode by, saw this source of disposable income, and carried Nella off to marry her.
Mother and I were staring after her—I wasn’t even thinking about the well—when I felt Mother’s hands giving me a boost into the well.
It was a long way down.
The first thing I spotted was an apple tree. I must have hit my head really hard, because I could have sworn that the tree talked—something about “pick me or I’ll break” but I was seriously weirded out, so I didn’t pay much attention. I did pick one apple because I was hungry and the branch broke and there were apples all over the ground. But I had my apple, and went on.
Next I came to this oven, and it was talking too. “Pull out the loaves or they will burn.” Again, I was nervous at this evidence of talking furniture, and besides I didn’t have an oven mitt. But I did open the oven, and a draft got in and the loaves were burnt to a crisp.
Finally, I came to this little cottage. It was evidently the home of several generations of pigs because it stank. I couldn’t even get near enough to the mop because the smell was so bad. So I wrapped myself up and tried to sleep my way back home.
But before I’d even shut my eyes, this old lady showed up, yelling about how I left a trail of disaster behind me.
I tried to explain how it wasn’t my fault, but old ladies are notoriously hard of hearing. She waved her stick, and suddenly I was back up at the well, and there was Mother leaning in, and I only pushed her a little bit, but she deserved it because she pushed me first.
I didn’t get a glittery dress. No, Nella had taken the last of those. But at least I only got toads when I speak.
Mother’s mouth is cut up dreadfully from the thorns that she spews when she talks.
word count: 665