Once upon a midnight dreary,
A tale unfolds, not as you query.
The real account, much darker, gory,
Far from the phony, soft and sappy story.
Conceived in years long past and yore,
To appease children and nothing more.
Yet in the night, as shadows fall,
Ugly Sisters embarked to the Palace Ball.
While Cinderella, in a dismal plight,
In a slimy cellar, hidden from sight,
With rats that hungered for a feast,
Nibbling at her feet, a torment increased.
She cried, ‘Help!’ in the dead of night,
The Magic Fairy, in radiant light,
Appeared and asked, ‘Are you all right?’
Cindy retorted, ‘Can’t you see,
I feel as rotten as can be!’
‘Get me to the Ball,’ she cried aloud,
‘I want a dress, a coach, so proud!
Earrings, a diamond brooch to gleam,
Silver slippers, a fairy-touched dream.’
The Fairy’s wand, a mighty flick,
Transported Cindy, quick and slick,
To the Palace Ball, she danced with grace,
Ugly Sisters witnessed, their envy to face.
She held the Prince with a fervent squeeze,
Pressed against his chest with such ease.
The Prince, entranced, turned to pulp,
Gasped and gulped, caught in love’s pulse.
At midnight’s stroke, she cried, ‘Alas!
I must run to save my glass.’
The Prince grabbed her dress, a desperate plea,
Torn asunder, she fled in misery.
In her underwear, one slipper lost,
On the stair, a tale accosted.
The Prince seized the slipper with a dart,
Pressed to his heart, love’s gentle art.
‘The girl this slipper fits,’ he cried,
‘Shall be my bride,’ joy implied.
Searching houses all around,
To find the maiden, he was bound.
Carelessly, the slipper placed on a crate,
The plot thickened, Cindy’s fate.
Ugly Sister, with a wicked scheme,
Flushed it down the loo, an act extreme.
Replacing it with her own left shoe,
The plot deepened, Cindy’s woe grew.
The Prince, determined, charged through town,
Knocking on doors, tension spun around.
Long and wide, the shoe, a fit peculiar,
Thousands tried, all endeavors singular.
Ugly Sister’s turn, she claimed success,
‘Yes, it fits! Now, Prince, confess!’
But the Prince, aghast, cried, ‘Let me out!’
A vow he made, in fear and doubt.
‘Off with her head!’ his decree,
One big whack, a gruesome decree.
Sister Number Two tried the shoe,
The Prince’s sword, swift and true.
Her head, it bounced and rolled around,
In the kitchen, Cindy heard the sound.
‘What’s the racket?’ Cindy inquired,
‘Mind your own business,’ the Prince fired.
Her heart torn, she thought with dread,
A Prince who beheads, how could she wed?
‘Who’s this dirty slut?’ the Prince did shout,
‘Off with her nut! Off with her nut!’
In a blaze of light, the Fairy appeared,
With a swoosh and swish, hope neared.
‘Cindy,’ she cried, ‘make a wish,
Anything you desire, with no swish.’
Cindy, wary, made her plea,
‘A decent man, can you grant that for me?’
In an instant, Cinderella’s fate,
Married to a man so great.
A jam maker with love and laughter,
Happy ever after, in their life hereafter.
:: 01.09.2024 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 