I see you admiring the clock. A beauty, isn’t it? Come here my child and let me tell you a story about that clock.
The ancient tower, hewn from cold, hard stone, was built for war, not celebration, yet a celebration it was, for the prince was coming of age. An open invitation was given to all, with a hidden message that the King wanted to cement the bond with his subjects by choosing a wife for his son from the people of the land, not from distant shores. The common folk, used to their one room huts and simple hovels, had a hard time navigating the structure built on a vertical scale with its tight spiral staircases leading from floor to floor, so in the end only the young, the fit and the adventurous made it to the prince’s ball.
Ah, but you know this story, don’t you? About how poor mistreated Cindy discovered the means to attend, despite her stepmother leaving her with an impossible task to perform? About the magic and the promise? You’ve no doubt heard about the fine silk in a world that knew only rough wool, leather and linen, right? And you’ve surely heard about the feet that had to traipse through the mud and dung to reach the castle being clad in the purest, clearest glass imaginable.
That last bit is the rub, isn’t it? Imagine climbing to the great hall, up those steep, narrow, spinning steps, wearing glass slippers! At first she stopped, not knowing what to do. In a flash her story, the story of her mother’s death at her birth and the murder of her father by her greedy step-mother, ran through her head and the lower hall, as she let out a small sob. In a flash her story of living in harsh servitude as her step-mother and step-sisters squandered the fortune her father had amassed echoed around the chamber, though no words were spoken. Her hopes were dashed, as always, despite the magic. But then she heard the music and knew what she must do. Cindy, of course, took off those glass slippers and quietly carried them as she tip-toed up those cold stone stairs. All of the hard work she was forced to perform had left her athletic and agile, though many more years of it would break her, as it did so many of the common laborers. She reached the impromptu ball-room on the top level without even breathing hard and slipped back into the slippers and into the room and began to dance. You can imagine the lovely Cindy, silk and glass glowing radiantly in the torchlight, spinning and dancing through the night, all eyes on her, in particular the eyes of the young prince.
Continue reading here: The Clock Had Different Ideas #writephoto