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Ringo-Ichigo's random stories
I'll just be writing short stories up here about whatever I feel like. They could be fanfiction, mysteries, ghost stories, dreams, or anything. Think of this as a little smidgen of what goes on in my head.
Cindy, a.k.a. Cinderella Part 5: Water Please
"Well, what are you staring at?" my stepsister Jemma snaps.

I tear my gaze away from the fine paper in her hands. "Nothing!" I answer with a smile. In my mind, I recite the words that I know are inside the invitation. And those words are extended to me.

I excuse myself and go out to the courtyard. There is the carriage and the poor foaming horses. My stepmother has worn them to the point of death again. I stroke their large noses gently and then move to their necks. I undo the buckles and straps of their bridles and harnesses. I removed the tack and they willingly follow me to the well. I draw some water and use the rag on my hair to wipe their sweat away.

"Poor thing. She wore you out, didn't she? Well, I know just what to do for you, right, Flicka?" I murmur to the large black mare. She snorts and pushes me with her nose.

"Hey! Careful!"

She nickers in response and I laugh. "All right, I'll hurry up!"

I begin to wipe her sister Phantom down. "Can't wait to have some of those oats, can you?" I coo and Phantom's ear flicks toward me.

I finish and give them each a kiss before I lead them to the stables. I give them their promised oats and go outside. I take the bucket of dirty water and throw it onto the herb garden.

"Excuse me, miss, but could I have a drink?" a masculine voice asks.

I jump. How had he come up without my hearing him? I turn to answer and there is the prince.

"Your highness!" I gasp like a fool. I feel my cheeks heating. "Of course!" I run to the well and begin to draw the water.

"You talk to your horses often?" the prince asks me as I hand him the dipper.

I nearly die of mortification. "Y-y-yes," I stammer. "I have no one else to talk to."

"They're very good horses," he comments as he hands back the empty dipper. "Thank you for the drink. But I"m afraid I must be on my way."

"You're welcome, your highness," I answer with a curtsy. As I stand, our eyes meet. All thoughts flee and I stare, hypnotized. He seems to consider saying something but breaks the contact. He mounts and leaves.

As soon as he disappears, my knees buckle and I sink to the ground. I could not believe it. I had met the prince.





 
 
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