Old Story Compilation

Shatter - the only one of these that I relatively like and may consider revamping

(A/N: This was written around the same time as Experiment 14, soo... Yeah. XD But I think that it's a bit better. It's a rewrite of the Cinderella story - from Anastasia's perspective.)

The carriage grinds to a halt. I force myself to step outside as gracefully as possible, but instead I stumble and fall to my knees on the dirty brick drive.
I scramble to my feet before Mother notices, brushing pebbles and dirt off of my expensive dress.
Drizella gives me a sympathetic smile, and we join arms to walk into the house. She may not know about the Secret – and I plan to keep it that way – but she is still quite shy. She isn’t exceptionally beautiful, but she is – almost – pretty. Most certainly more flattering than I am.
I try to avert my gaze from Mother as we head inside. She’s already engaged to a new, richer man to replace our father. I don’t exactly plan on welcoming him with open arms, but I do feel sorry for the poor man, whoever he is.
Mother knocks the large brass knocker. It has many intricate carvings of birds, deer, and other wildlife.
Unsurprisingly, our knocker was a gargoyle. I’m glad to be out of that wretched place.
A maidservant comes to the door. I curtly hand her my things. She glances at me, surprised, then scampers off to put them – and Mother’s and Drizella’s things – away. I wish I could apologize. I hate being like this – haughty and rude. However, surely incurring the wrath of Mother would only be the worse for the lot of us.
We step inside. Mother, as usual, refuses to close the door herself. I can’t stop myself before I reach for the knob and close it myself. Mother gives me that unique glare that says ‘I’ll deal with you later.’
I let my eyes slide shut for just a split-second longer than a blink. I hate this. I’d run away from home if I weren’t so incapable. I wish I could do more for myself, but Mother won’t give any support whatsoever to my pursuit of knowledge and of practicality. “Work is for the pathetic.”
Sometimes I would point out how pathetic I was. She would glare me down, but not argue.
A tall, slightly tan man with an honest-looking face and wise, bird-like eyes starts walking towards us. His long legs set a pace that seemed impossible to match – especially as a girl. However, the young lady behind him seems to have no problem catching up.
“Welcome, dearest. Are these your lovely daughters?”
Mother smiles. When she tries, she is the most charming, beautiful lady in all of the land. Except for, perhaps, this rosy-faced youth. “Yes, they are. Anastasia, Drizzela, please introduce yourselves. This is my fiancé.”
I curtsy. I think I did well – it was my best yet – but the disgusted look on Mother’s face says otherwise. I try my best to hold back tears. Even if she is a murderer, she is still my mother. I want to be loved – or at least appreciated – just once. Could I not have that one, small thing?
I suppose not. I shook it out of my head. I would survive this.
Her fiancé doesn’t seem to notice my lack of grace. “Welcome, girls. I’d like for you to meet my daughter, Ella.”
Ella curtsies. She has a perfect curtsy – one that bespeaks grace and eloquence. Was there any single flaw about her?
“Welcome. I’m Ella.” She smiles. She has nearly perfect pearly white teeth. Her features are all perfectly sized and dainty. She is the most beautiful woman I had ever seen – she outmatches my mother by far.
“Ella, could you show Anastasia and Drizella to their rooms?”
She smiles up at her father with loving adoration. Why does she have to do this? Does she see how distant our mother was from us and just want to rub it in? “Certainly.”
We follow her through halls. The house isn’t far from being a palace. The wood is shined and clean, as spotless as if it were brand new. The walls have beautiful prints and colors, and the many open windows let in lots of natural light.
As she leads us upstairs, she tries to converse. “How was your travel?”
I want to laugh and sigh at the same time. Was travel ever any different? I think not. Always just bumps and rattles as you jolt over rocks and sticks, added to the mix of horrible stenches from the horses ahead. If you are traveling in summer, it is stifling hot. If you are traveling in winter, you are freezing, with ice nipping at your toes and fingertips. That was the only variation I gathered.
“Hot, smelly, and miserable. We just want to get to our rooms and rest, so please shut up.” I’m surprised to hear Drizella speak; she’s normally so shy!
Ella doesn’t respond, but I almost think I hear a sad sigh. I find myself wondering if she is ever lonely. I sure am.
I chide myself. I am not lonely. I have Drizella, Mother, and two new relatives.
Someone had already brought my bags up to my room from the carriage. I almost thank Ella for her hospitality, but she hurries away before I can say anything.
I sigh and collapse onto the bed. It doesn’t matter anyway.
I don’t even change – I just fall asleep right then and there.
Sleep is such a beautiful thing.