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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #2121773
A girl goes to a ball, and meets a prince there. Your typical Cinderella... Or is it?
As the clock struck twelve, she dashed down the steps, her dress already turning into a mess. The moon watched her carefully, as if inspecting her. She wanted a good ending. Running away, she thought of what could happen tomorrow night. The prince was after her, and he wanted to know who she was. She didn’t know who he was either, his identity sealed, but he didn’t know her plans. She didn't want to do it, but she didn’t have a choice. The girl hopped into the carriage and away she went, taking her guilt with her.

* * *

The next night was already here, but she didn’t want to go. She knew what would happen, the heavy atmosphere weighing her down, and she couldn't even lift a finger to stop it from happening. She carried the sinful blade strapped underneath her red velvet dress to the ballroom. The prince saw her, and smiled. His face, she thought, was enchanting. He took her shaking hand and they waltzed around with such grace, some couples pausing to witness the marvel. She forgot her dreadful mission, and what sin she was supposed to commit. The haunting voices soon started to murmur to her, and then it struck her. It was too late, the witch was controlling her actions, as she had planned, and she snatched the blade. She swiftly swung her arm, and hit him directly in the abdomen. He was shocked, as he fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. He saw what she did, and yet she was the one who was crying. She knew this was going to happen. The witch told her that for a certain man’s life, she would give her the best night of her life. She didn’t know she meant this. How could she have tricked her? Her tears wouldn’t stop, as she continued to swing her arm. The prince was on the urge of death and yet, he smiled.

“After all I have done, you still smile?” She cried, sobbing.
The prince had been examining her and her movements, for each night that they met. Her shaky hands, sweaty appearance, and frightened eyes all made sense now, and he suddenly realized it. She had to do something that she didn't want to do. She was being controlled.
The girl fell to red stained knees, still holding the crimson blade.
As his breathing became shallower, the prince removed his feathery mask.
She recognised his face, as the man she loved before this mess occurred. He was the one she saw everyday for the past 2 years, the one who she passed on her way to the store each day, the one who understood her more than anyone else could ever imagine, without having to say a single word.
With his last breath, he smiled once more, and closed his cloudy eyes.
She threw her head back and screeched, as people flocked to the doors, panicking. She looked at the moon through her blurred vision, and knew what she had to do. She placed the blade against her cold temple, and with that, the clock struck twelve.
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