You know the story.
They said she was beautiful and sad, scorned and misunderstood by her stepsisters. Yet, a Prince fell in love with her, when she dressed up, and later sent messengers to the four corners of his kingdom to find the woman with the tiny foot that would fit into the glass slipper.
But Cinderella never wanted to marry. She squatted in the ashes of the fireplace and thought about wild woods where she could run free with the beasts and sing with the birds.
No, Cinderella was no romantic, swoony girl.
She was a little, wild thing, squirmish about the company she kept: she preferred mice and squirrels to most humans. And no wonder it was so, for her father had been fooled into a most unhappy second marriage.
That evening, at the ball in the royal palace, she had just wanted a bit of fun, to find out what all the fuss was about, but then it was fatal, for the Prince's will was set and he had no peace till he found her.
She did marry the Prince, yes. She grabbed the chance to get out, but there was no happy living ever after, for she was a little, wild thing. Her spirit belonged to the wild elements.
The Prince -- as stony as a bulwark -- was not to be rejected.
One early morning, tired of her secluded and empty life, Cinderella left the castle in disguise, walking far beyond the limits of the kingdom, down to the dark woods at the boundary of the known world.
By the time she got there, her clothes were ragged and her hair was a knotted tangle. Her eyes, though, burnt bright like embers.
After some searching, the Prince got over it, for she had started to unnerve him. He remarried and had two sons, so his vanity was satisfied.
In the woods, Cinderella rode the golden serpent of the deep, deep river and in her ecstasy, she touched the vaults of the sky.
The gods both blessed and punished her, for she turned into an old hag seeing into the future, present and past, and she also received the gift of immortality.
Where can you find her, you do ask.
I say: in the dark heart of every woman thirsting for freedom.
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