Spooky Reads #1: My Friends in the Attic (Part 3 of 3)

Part 3

Elsa hurriedly went down the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mom!” She called out, her voice cracked.

“Elsa?” Her mom shouted back. “Elsa, where are you?”

Elsa stepped into the kitchen and saw her mom talking to a person in a police uniform.

“Elsa!” Her mom gave her the tightest hug. “Where have you been? Why are you covered in soot? What happened to you?”

Elsa glanced at her reflection on the shiny refrigerator. She looked thin and raggedy.

“When I came back from the sale, you were gone! We’ve been looking for you for days!” Elsa’s mom continued, her eyes red, her hair in disarray.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Elsa said. She began to sob, knowing that she was that close to being lost forever.

“No, Elsa. I’m sorry. I should’ve been spending more time with you. I forgot how important you are…more important than anything in the world.” She kissed Elsa’s forehead over and over again. “I have no excuses left. If there’s something that you want us to do together, just tell me.”

“Maybe we could walk outside and grab some food? I’m kind of hungry,” Elsa asked.

“Get cleaned and be ready in five! We’re going out,” her mom said, squeezing Elsa’s hand.

“Mom?” Elsa glanced back. “Did you know we have an attic?”

“No, I didn’t. Do you want to go and explore it later?”

“I want to clean it out,” Elsa said.

Spooky Reads #2: My Friends in the Attic (Part 2 of 3)

Part 2

One evening, Elsa’s mom called her for dinner. She had somehow whipped up buttermilk chicken and mashed potatoes. Elsa looked strangely at the woman in front of her. Was this a surprise? Tomorrow was Elsa’s birthday, but she had very low expectations. Her mom had forgotten her last two birthdays.

“What’s the occasion?” Elsa asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she washed her hands.

“I’m on the verge of a very important sale. I’m so happy because this sale means we’ll be able to afford a family trip to visit your dad! I’m sure you’d like that,” her mom gushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Really? Yes, I’d love that,” Elsa said as she sat down. She meant it. It didn’t matter that her mom forgot her birthday. It was more important that they get to spend time with her dad. During dinner, they planned the trip, with her mom telling her all the places they could visit. Elsa couldn’t believe her questions were getting answered and she wasn’t being shushed.

“Let’s walk to the park tomorrow morning,” her mom said as she began clearing the dishes. “Maybe we’ll find a four-leaf clover to give me some luck.”

Elsa nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Maybe her mom didn’t forget after all. She fell asleep with a big smile on her face as she pictured their perfect morning together.

The next day, Elsa woke up extra early. As she came down from her room, she saw her mom grabbing her car keys.

“Elsa, I’m going out. The important client I was talking about wants to meet up with me as soon as possible,” she said hurriedly. “Just lock up and I’ll be back soon.”

“But what about…” Elsa’s voice trailed. She heard the door slam and knew that her mom was gone. She chewed on her lip, fighting the urge to get upset. She hurriedly ran upstairs, knowing exactly where she wanted to go.

“Do you have any photo albums with me in it?” Elsa asked the minute she stepped in the attic.

Lank (the tall one) nodded and emerged with a worn shoe box.

In it, Elsa saw her baby pictures and the warm smiles of her parents. Her dad raising her up in the air; her mom tying a balloon to her wrist as they strolled through a park; Elsa blowing sparkly candles on a cake. She blinked a couple of times.

“Your cheeks are wet,” Mafia (the bossy one) went up her ear to wipe a tear a way. “Don’t we make you happy? Be happy,” it commanded her.

“It’s not you,” Elsa bit back a sob. The sprites pushed a pillow beside her and she lied down, curled up in a ball. Exhausted from crying, she soon fell asleep. She woke up to a gentle nudge.

Elsa blinked a couple of times before realizing that the room was filled with colorful balloons and banners.

“What is this?” Elsa called for the furry sprites.

Slim (the thin one) waved a matchstick and all the sprites came together to sing a slightly off-key birthday song. They each took turns to climb Elsa’s shoulders to give her a peck on the cheek. They lifted pictures of birthday cakes, ice cream and brownies from the magazines. They were even able to find a piñata to smash. Soon, the attic was littered with candy and colorful confetti. Elsa clapped her hands and laughed as the sprites competed in their game.

Pretty soon, the sun was coming down. But Elsa didn’t want the day to end. She didn’t want this to be just another day that passed by. “Can I tell you something, Furball?” The furry sprite nodded. “I don’t want to go down anymore. I want to stay here.”

All the sprites gathered around her, nodding in consent. “Stay,” Biggie (the biggest one) said. “We’ll have fun all day long.”

“You’ll never get bored,” Smarty (the one who brought all the books) said.

“Ahhh,” Elsa yawned loudly. “Maybe I’ll sleep here tonight.” The sprites pushed the pillow back and watched as Elsa fell asleep once more.

Elsa woke up, but things felt different. She glanced around, and while it looked like she was in the attic, there was nothing in it, except for a frame that with a photo of two girls. Both girls looked alike, with one slightly taller than the other. They looked like a younger version of her mom.

“Elsa,” one of the girls in the frame spoke.

Elsa tripped on her footing as she scampered back, away from the picture.

“Don’t be scared,” the smaller girl said. “It’s me, your lola.”

Lola Isabel?” Elsa asked.

“I’m your Lola Dea, your Lola Isabel’s younger sister,” the girl said. “You have to get out of this attic. Now.”

“But why? I like it here. The sprites love me and they take care of me. It’s not like my parents care that much about me. They’re always too busy.”

“That’s what I thought. I was the second child and I felt that my parents always gave more attention to your Lola Isabel. I felt that she was always better than I was. And so, I began hiding in this attic. I didn’t notice that the more I stayed, the more I faded. One day, I simply disappeared. I could see my parents searching for me in this very attic and they couldn’t see me. It was like I became invisible.”

Elsa’s whole body began shaking. “Could the sprites do that?” Elsa whispered.

“They told me that they were the protectors of the things people have forgotten. But the more you stay here, the more you become forgotten in the real world. You become like dust,” the girl warned. “Tell them you’re coming back. But go and do it quickly.”

Elsa woke up with a startle and she was back in the real attic. She tried to calm her heart as she thought of an excuse to go back down.

“You’re awake!” Bossy said. “She’s awake,” he announced to the other sprites. The group gathered around her. “What do you want to do?”

“I just want to go down for a while,” Elsa said as she forced a smile.

“Why?” Biggie asked. “Don’t you want to stay with us?”

“I just want to…get all of my photos so that I could store it here with you and we can look at them together,” Elsa said, as she held her breath for their answer.

“Ooohhh, photos!” Lanky said. “I want more photos!”

“Be back soon,” Biggie said as it moved away from the attic door.

 

Spooky Reads #1: My Friends in the Attic (Part 1 of 3)

PART I

It was a summer day perfect for doing nothing at all. For once, thick clouds hid the punishing rays of the sun and the air was quite cool. Any other kid would have been thrilled at the prospect of sleeping in or maybe watching copious amounts of Youtube. But Elsa wasn’t like any other kid. She woke up at exactly 6 am every day and was never very interested in watching any sort of tube. She sighed loudly and reluctantly got out bed.

“Mom?” Elsa called out as she headed to the kitchen.

“Cereal and milk are on the table,” Mom said, barely looking up from her computer. As usual, she was doing three things at once —drinking coffee, typing on her laptop, and chatting on the phone.

“I guess we’re not walking around the block today,” Elsa said, even though she already knew the answer.

Mom didn’t even blink to acknowledge her statement.

Zombie mode. She knew that when her mom was like this, she’d be rooted to her “office” for hours on end. Elsa ate in silence as she tried to remember the last time they went out. It was months ago, with her dad a week away from ending his vacation and going back to work in Dubai. He reserved a room for them at a resort and they spent a whole day at the beach with no phones and no computers to compete with. But now, Dad was back to his work and Mom was as busy as ever.

Elsa cleared the table and washed her bowl just to have something to do. Now what? Elsa counted the wooden boards she stepped on as she went up the second floor of what she jokingly calls their new-old house, a house that her grandmother recently passed on to Elsa’s mom.

She checked the shelves and scanned through Lola Isabel’s worn-out volumes of Reader’s Digest magazines. I need light. Elsa searched the ceiling for a light bulb. But instead, she saw a chain hanging from the ceiling. I’ve never seen that before, Elsa thought to herself. She quickly ran to her room and got an umbrella. She hooked the umbrella to the chain and pulled on it. Stairs slowly came down to the ground.

An attic! Elsa’s heartbeat quickened as she began to climb the staircase. Faint light was shining through a small window, but it wasn’t enough for Elsa to see what was inside the room. She groped around for a light switch and found one. Warm yellow light filled the room and Elsa was amazed at what she saw—dusty albums, hard-bound books, framed photographs, wooden trunks—she couldn’t believe her luck! A treasure trove of things to explore! She picked up a book and dusted its cover. It was an encyclopedia dating back to the 1970’s. Elsa poured over its contents, laughing at some outdated information and carefully looking at each picture being described. She was so absorbed that she failed to notice a ball of dust rolling across her feet. Soon, the ball was on her shoulder.

“Hi!” A tiny voice came from nowhere. She looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. She spotted the black ball of dust on her shoulder and was about to sweep it off when she heard it squeak.

“Who are you? What are you?” Elsa said, her voice filled with wonder.

“We’re dust sprites and we live in this attic,” the ball spoke.

Then, another gray ball emerged from between her feet. “We are the guardians of the things people have forgotten. Can we help you look for anything?”

Elsa grew silent for a while, thinking of the situation she was in. The sprites looked harmless enough, and quite cute with their big round eyes and furry bodies. Between the prospect of dying from boredom downstairs to talking to these eager balls of dust, she thought the latter was the obvious choice.

“Hmmm…,” Elsa tapped her chin. “Do you have something actually owned by Lola Isabel? I was just a toddler when she passed away.”

“Oh, we have a lot of those,” a particularly furry sprite rolled away and came back with an album.

Elsa flipped over the pages and saw beautiful black and white photos of a woman who looked like a more dressed up version of her mom. She was glamorous, with her beaded gowns and her hair pinned up. Elsa got so absorbed with looking at pictures that she almost forgot the time.

Elsa!” She heard the distant voice of her mom. “Oh, gotta run!” Elsa said a quick goodbye to her new friends.

“Come back soon!” The dust sprites gathered at the attic’s opening to say their goodbyes.

Going to the attic quickly became Elsa’s favorite pastime whenever her mom was working, which was practically all the time. She was always careful to pull the stairs back up whenever she climbed. She didn’t want her mom to find her special place and ban her from it. She’d spend hours playing with her cute friends, soon giving them equally cute nicknames. She’d try on the old gowns that had been stored away and do a fashion show with the sprites. She’d open trunks and read through beautifully penned love letters. The sprites always tried their best to find what she wanted.

One particularly long stay, Elsa’s stomach grumbled. “Oops, I’ll just go down and grab some food.”

“No need,” Shorty (the stumpy one) said. “Let us show you some of our magic.” It took an old magazine and opened it to a page with a spread of food—cubed cheese on a wooden tray, blueberry bagels, sugared donuts and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. “Point to what you like.”

Elsa pointed to a cube of cheese and somehow, the sprite was able to lift actual cheese from the page.

“Cheddar!” Elsa exclaimed as she popped the cheese in her mouth. “Can you get me a doughnut?” The sprite called for some help to lift the doughnut from the page, and just like the cheese, a fluffy doughnut appeared.

“I could get used to this,” Elsa said, eating to her stomach’s content.

“Anything for you,” the sprites smiled, throwing approving looks at each other.

 

ZsaZsa Goes to Benguet!

 

“We are going home to Benguet!” Mama announced over breakfast one morning.

“Benguet?!” I whined. “Do we have to?” From Papa’s stories of his trips there, Benguet was this faraway province on top of a mountain. I just knew the long trip was going to be boooring!

“Yes, we have to. We are going to visit our family, and our tribe–the Igorots of Bay-yo,” Mama said with a smile.

“Mama!” I wailed as I crossed my hands over my chest and growled. I didn’t like to be called an Igorot. My classmates teased me when I first introduced myself as an Igorot, and from then on, I stopped mentioning it to anyone.

“I’m sorry, ZsaZsa, but I don’t understand you,” she said patiently. “We come from a long line of native Filipinos. Before the Spaniards came, we were already here, growing our crops, developing our crafts, and caring for our families! You should be proud to belong to such a unique group.”

I sighed. Mama looked long and hard at me, as if saying that I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

I had lived in Manila all seven years of my life. I knew the noisy horns of our jeeps, the colorful billboards along our paved roads, and the people dressed in their uniforms going to work and school. But I knew nothing of Benguet, except that it was high up in the mountains and that we belonged to a tribe.

Finally, it was the day of our trip. Papa woke me up early. “It’s a long trip, honey. Pack your jacket because its going to be cold.”

“Why are we called Igorot anyway?” I asked, still cranky that I had been woken up.

“Well, our name literally means that we are from the mountains,” Mama explained.

“Ok, now I know what an Igorot is. We don’t have to actually go there,” I said, hoping to still change their minds.

“We can’t just tell you what an Igorot is. You have to see it for your own eyes. You have to experience what it is like to be from the mountains.” Mama raised an eyebrow at me.

The rocking of the car lulled me to sleep. When I woke up, we were by the road on the mountainside.

“Just in time!” Papa said. “Look at the zigzag roads we are passing through!”

Even I couldn’t help but stare at the roads we were passing. Beside us was the mountain, and we were going around it. The view of the pines trees and the clouds touching the mountain took my breath away. I opened my window slightly and felt the cold wind hit my face.

Mama pointed to me the sides of the mountains with what seemed to be carved flooring. “See those? That is how we planted. Even if it is very hard to plant on mountains, the Igorots were able to figure out how to do it. We call our rice fields kapayyew.”

“Wow!” I couldn’t help but smile. “It looks wonderful, Mama. Can we see it up close?” She nodded eagerly.

Finally, we had arrived! Everyone was dressed in colorful woven fabric.

“I’m glad you’re here!” An elderly woman approached us.

“Yes, it’s time for ZsaZsa to know her roots,” Mama said.

“Let’s get you dressed so that we can teach you how to dance the Bendian!”

Mama dressed me in the same striped cloth and wrapped a thin woven belt around my head. It was fun hopping and raising my hands together with the children of the tribe. Then we shared a meal of Pinikpikan and Innasin. I was excited to try everything. The elders told me stories of my parents and they were very nice in answering all my questions. I even took many pictures with them. When the day ended, Mama sat beside me.

“Did you have a good time today?” She asked as I smiled sleepily.

“I had the best day! Thank you for bringing me to Benguet. I can’t wait to show my classmates pictures of our tribe!” I said as I kissed her goodnight.

 

Jenny’s Parade

I wrote this for a friend of mine who had a sister with Down syndrome. She told me that one of her sister’s dreams was to walk in the May flower parade of their province, but she was never invited. This is her alternate story, with a happier ending.

Jenny’s Parade

Anicia woke up early, showered and dressed. She ran down the stairs for breakfast and woofed down her pancakes and bacon.

“Nervous?” Anicia’s mom asked, looking at her daughter with raised eyebrows.

“I know she’s getting in,” Anicia said with more confidence than she felt.

Today was the tryouts for children who wanted to participate in the annual flower parade. Her younger sister, Jenny, loved the parade ever since the first time she watched it. Jenny had always pointed to the fairies with wings, while looking at her sister with her beautiful, upward slanting eyes, as if telling Anicia that she wanted to be one of them. But at three years old, Jenny still couldn’t walk on her own, and walking without help was basically the only requirement for her to join. And so, Anicia vowed to practice walking with her sister every day for one whole year before going to tryouts.

Anicia smiled as her dad helped Jenny down the stairs. Jenny was wearing a crown of flowers on her hair, a big smile etched across her face. Both she and Jennifer had a cheerful disposition, long, brown hair and caramel-colored eyes. But, their similarities ended there.

Anicia could still remember the first time she met her baby sister some four years ago. It took a while for her mom and her sister to come back from the hospital and she asked her dad what was taking them so long.

“Your sister has to undergo a lot of tests,” her dad said. “I’ll explain better when you see her face to face.

When it was time for her new sister to be brought home, Anicia jumped up and down, shouting, “Lemme see! Lemme see!”

Her mom moved very slowly, and sat down on the couch, showing Anicia the baby in her arms. “Anicia, meet Jennifer.”

Anicia looked at the baby’s face. Jenny had warm eyes that slanted upwards, a cute button nose, and tiny ears. Mom and Dad explained to Anicia that there was one more special thing about her sister—Jennifer had an extra chromosome.

“What is a kro-muh-soam and why does she get an extra one?” Anicia asked her father.

“Well, chromosomes are things that shape the way you look. Half of the forty-six chromosomes in you came from me, while the other half came from your mother. That’s why you look a bit like both of us.”

“Oh, so you mean my sister has forty six plus one chromosomes then,” Anicia said, holding her index finger up.

“Yes she has,” Dad replied while nodding his head. “She has Down syndrome and that is why she may not look exactly like you.”

“She does look like me too!” Anicia argued as she looked at her beautiful sleeping sister.

But as they both grew up, Anicia soon found out that her father was right. Anicia also noticed that while she and everything around them moved very fast, her sister’s world was different. It took a while for Jenny to start speaking. Mom was always doing something for Jenny, even as her sister grew up. She helped her eat, get dressed, and clean herself. Dad was the same. He was always carrying Jenny whenever they had to go out and it was just barely a year ago that she started standing up, still with her father’s hand to give support.

Anicia always wondered to herself, “What can I do for Jennifer?” And the summer when she saw how happy her sister was while watching the parade gave her the answer she needed!

“I’m going to help Jenny enter the flower parade!” Anicia declared to her parents one afternoon.

“That’s nice, dear,” Mom said, as she looked at Dad for approval.

“You need to practice because Jen is still finding her balance,” Dad reminded Anicia.

“And you need lots of patience,” Mom added.

Anicia nodded, excited to work on training her sister. But everything was easier said than done. Sometimes, Jenny just wanted to sit in the garden and watch the bugs on their lawn. And then there were times she would hide her slippers from Anicia. At first, Anicia complained to her mom.

“She won’t listen to me,” Anicia said. “I give up!”

“She will, but maybe it will be better if you just enjoy what she likes doing first before trying to make her do your thing,” Mom suggested.

And so, Anicia tried slowing down. When Jenny wanted to pick flowers, Anicia would pick with her. When she wanted to rest and just look at the clouds, Anicia rested with her. Pretty soon, Anicia found herself laughing with Jenny, and enjoying even the quiet times with her sister. Sometimes, Jenny would try to stand up on her own, and Anicia would clap for her whenever she was successful. In her mind, Anicia decided that whether or not Jenny would make it, they would give the tryouts a shot.

Finally, it was the big day! With her whole family in tow, Anicia gave Jenny two thumbs up as her mom went to the booth to register their names. Anicia’s heart almost jumped out of her chest when she heard her sister’s name being called to walk to the front. Her father carefully brought Jenny down. She sat on the floor at first and looked at Anicia.

“C’mon Jenny, you can do it!” Anicia smiled at her sister. Jenny looked at the faces of her mom and dad and then very slowly, pushed herself from the ground. She walked a bit wobbly at first, but made it to the front without even looking back.

“Yes!” Anicia hollered. “That’s my sister!”

Anicia and Jenny walked hand in hand that summer on Jenny’s first flower parade. Both wore matching fairy dresses with sparkly wings. They waved at everyone they passed and ended the day with a scoop of ice cream each. It was the sisters’ best summer yet.

Did You Know?

Babies with Down Syndrome have Hypotonia (or low muscle tone) which is why it takes them a little longer to walk, talk and eat the same as others. But, with hard work and support from family members, they get there!

The Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon (and Brought Down a Crown of Stars): Tales from Mother Chouette

Hibbou was too excited to go to bed. She had one too many sweet treats and she was hopping about the nest more than usual.

“Come and sit here, Hibbou.” Mother Chouette called her owlet. “I will read you a story of a famous cow who was just as jumpy as you are.”

Once upon a full moon, a very pregnant cow laid upon the hay and moo-ed loudly for she knew it was about time for her to give birth. She laid on her side as the baby inside her kicked and bounced. And then all of a sudden, it didn’t move at all. Just as she was getting ready to stand up (for she thought the baby had changed its mind), out jumped the calf. Thus was born Skipper, the jumping calf.

Skipper learned early on that jumping was his special gift. While his peers usually pranced and hopped every time they saw something different, Skipper always jumped the highest. He jumped over anthills, fences, and soon enough, over ladders as well. Instead of munching on grass, Skipper would jump to grab the juiciest leaves on the tallest trees.

One night before bedtime, Momma Cow told Skipper that he was born during a full moon.

“What’s a full moon?” Skipper asked his mom.

“It’s a moon just like that one,” Momma Cow pointed to the shiny white platter in the night sky.

Skipper couldn’t contain his excitement. “Someday, I’m jumping over the moon!”

Momma Cow chuckled at her son’s words. “That’s too high, even for you.”

But Skipper would not hear of this. He practiced every day and jumped over taller and taller objects. As he grew into a young calf, he began jumping over the roof of his master’s house. Soon, he could jump over a mountain with ease.

Finally, he once again saw the full moon and knew he was ready to give it his best try. He closed his eyes, bent his knees and soared through the skies!

When Skipper opened his eyes, he was already above the moon.

“Yahoo, I did it!” Skipper hollered. “Wait till I tell my friends about this!”

When he had landed on the ground, he felt something heavy on his head. He quickly headed to the nearest pond to see if there was something stuck to his horns. When he looked at his reflection, he saw a crown of glittering stars on his head.

“Now my friends will believe that I reached the moon,” Skipper admired the reflection of his shiny crown. But just as he was about to sleep (for the business of jumping can get quite tiring), he heard whimpering in his ears.

“Who’s making all that noise? I’m trying to sleep here!” Skipper shouted to no one in particular.

“It is us,” his crown spoke. “We are the stars entangled in your horns. Please jump over the moon again so that we can go back to our home.”

“Oh no,” Skipper said as he shook his head. “You’re my prize for being the highest jumper in the world!” Skipper puffed his chest with pride. “Now quiet down so that I may get some sleep.”

The next day, Skipper showed his mom his crown of stars and how he got it. Then, he went to all the animals in the farm to show his trophy. When everyone in the village knew, he jumped to the other villages to show his crown of stars. Finally, everybody was quite sick and tired of hearing the story of how he had jumped over the moon and came back with stars on his horn. But still, Skipper would not stop, always jumping from one place to the next to tell anyone willing to listen of his amazing achievement.

One day, when he was telling a group of young calves the story, one had the guts to cut him off.

“Are you sure those are stars on your head?” The spotted calf said with raised eyebrows. “It just looks like a bunch of grayish rocks to me.”

Skipper was shocked. He jumped to the nearest pond to view his reflection. True enough, the stars were almost out of light!

“Why aren’t you shining?” The frustrated Skipper asked the stars.

“We are sad and lonely for this is not our home,” the stars said. “We will lose all our light if you don’t bring us back to the night sky,” they sobbed inconsolably.

Skipper finally felt sad for them. He didn’t want the stars to die because of him. But he had wasted a lot of time, going from village to village to spread his tale. He was no longer a young calf, but an old bull. Could he still jump over the moon a second time?

Skipper practiced again and again until the full moon was upon the farm at last. Then, gathering all his strength, he jumped the best he could.

Farm animals from all over the world say that they saw the shape of a cow jumping over the moon that night. But, none saw one coming back to the ground. Others believe that the great jumper became one of the stars in the vast sky.

The end.

Hibbou hopped to the window and looked for a group of stars shaped like a bull. “There he is, mama!”

Mother Chouette nodded and smiled.  

CinderSpectaRella Part 4 of 4

The next day, the prince disguised himself as the herald and personally went about the town to ask who owned the glasses. “The prince will invite whoever owns these glasses to a dinner at the castle!” He announced.

When the prince arrived in Cinderella’s home, the stepmother hurriedly brought out her daughters to fit the spectacles.

“This is mine!” Elvira pushed the glasses to her puffy face and almost broke it. She tried walking with the glasses, but immediately got dizzy and conked her head on the nearest tree.

“I’m sorry,” the prince shook his head. “This cannot be yours.”

“It’s mine!” Charlotte yanked the glasses from her sister. She wore it, and smiled as the glasses fit her long and tapered face. But she couldn’t see anything. When she extended her hand to the prince, she ended up slapping him on the face.

“I think not,” the prince turned around to leave. But just as he was about to mount his horse, Cinderella peeked from behind the door.

“May I try it?” She asked, squinting her eyes as she walked towards the prince.

“Oh no, she cannot be the one you are looking for. She didn’t even leave the house last night! And even if she did, she wouldn’t have seen the prince. Rumor has it that the prince was dancing with only one person the whole night!

But the prince insisted, and when she put the glasses on, everything was clear again.

“You’re not the herald, you’re the prince!” Cinderella exclaimed, staring into the eyes of the handsome man she danced with the night before.

The prince smiled. He knew he had found his princess at last.

And Cinderella lived with perfect vision for the rest of her life.

The End

CinderSpectaRella Part 1 of 4

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful young maiden named Cinderella in a house beside a farm. Cinderella was a loving and obedient child, but she was left to live with her cruel stepmother and vain stepsisters.

Every day, Cinderella spent her time doing all the household chores, and everything else her family was too lazy to do.

“Cinderella, fetch me my furry, white hat!” Elvira, the older of the stepsisters shouted.

Cinderella squinted about her stepsister’s messy room and saw something fluffy on the chair. She quickly grabbed it and plopped it on Elvira’s head.

“Aiii!” Screeched Elvira. “I said hat, not cat! Get out of my room, you’re as blind as a bat!”

Cinderella kept on apologizing, but Elvira kicked her out of the room anyway.

Then, Cinderella heard Charlotte holler from her room. “Cinderella, grab my pink beehive wig with the curly top!”

Cinderella blinked a couple of times as her eyes swept Charlotte’s room for anything pink. She thought she spied a pink curly-topped lump sitting on a chest and handed it to Charlotte.

Charlotte’s eyes popped when she received a pink, squirming piglet. “I said wig, not pig! Can’t you do anything right?!”

“Mother!” Elvira and Charlotte screamed at the same time.

“What is it, my dears?” Cinderella’s stepmom hurried to her children.

“Cinderella gets everything wrong,” Elvira complained as she pried the cat from her head.

“Cinderella messes up my orders on purpose,” Charlotte added, shooing the piglet from her room.

“Cinderella, explain yourself!” The stepmother raised her voice and crossed her hands over her chest.

But just as Cinderella was about to speak, the doorbell rang.

Cinderella ran down the stairs to get the door.

…to be continued