This snippet is from the book I intend to put out by September. It’s called, ‘Another Cinderella’. It’s one of the last overtly Christian stories I wrote, back before I gave up on the impossibility of getting an agent or a Christian publisher.
In this tale Cinderella’s stepsister is gradually transformed into the new slave at home, beginning a few weeks after Cinderella left to marry the prince.
Atlantia is angry and is stubbornly determined NOT to become another Cinderella.
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‘To Atlantia’s uttermost surprise the little woman took her umbrella and rapped Atlantia smartly on the head with it.
“Well, it’s about time!” the funny woman spoke, with a voice that croaked and splintered. “Let me in! You’re lucky enough to have me, so step aside!”
The strange woman formed her free hand and her umbrella hand into a sort of wedge and barged her way right by her, seeing as how Atlantia’s mouth was still open in shock. Then she stood in the kitchen and turned triumphantly around and stared at her.
“Who are you?” gasped Atlantia, rubbing the top of her head. Then she got annoyed. “And what do you want?”
“It’s you that wants me, brat, although you haven’t figured that out yet.”
“I most certainly don’t want you, so go away,” said Atlantia.
“Humph. Just wait until tomorrow, and see if you want me then,” said the impossible woman.
“I will never want you,” stated Atlantia.
“Humph,” the woman said again. She glared at Atlantia, who glared right back. Atlantia was about to send her away, but she saw the woman’s fist tighten on her umbrella weapon.
“Who are you?” she asked the frizzy woman again.
“My name is Zipporah.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m here to help you, of course.”
“Help me!” exclaimed Atlantia, rubbing the top of her head again. “I’d never allow myself to be helped by a person like you!”
“Fine then. I’ll go, and you’ll soon miss me! But just remember; only a select few get sent helpers. Cinderella had a helper, if you must know. A godmother.”
“You’re my godmother?” asked Atlantia unbelievingly.
“You’re too much of a brat to rate a godmother,” sneered the unpleasant woman. “I’m an imp. Your imp! And I don’t come unless I feel like it!” And forming her hands into a wedge again she pushed by Atlantia once more and on out the door.’